#reflect and put in the goddamn effort to be a better person

[babymorte]

the more i learn about attachments styles and the more i understand the person that started me down this rabbit hole the more i realise i made the right decision to cut them out of my life

[creatingblackcharacters]

Where is the line when it comes to calling out how people draw black characters? Im genuinely asking. Just did some digging in the elphaba tag. 28/35 of the top art did a great job of depicting her microbraids. Of those 7 that did a bad job, all but 2 of them put in effort to draw microbraids, its just that some of those artists arent very good. So… theyre practicing. Additionally, there were 2 pieces of art (in addition to that 35) that were clearly depicting the musical and book art (obvious fans for years, from before cynthia was cast and the movie). So… wheres the line? Do we call out just those 2 who didnt put in a real effort to draw her microbraids? Do we call out all 7 who didnt draw them well? Do we message them privately, even though we really dont know them at all besides this one piece we happened to come across? Do we send them an ask about it and hope they arent malicious? It stands to reason that they KNOW they should put in an effort, theyre in the *obvious* minority of artists in this fandom so… odds are they do not give a fuck about depicting Black hairstyles well. I dont want to make a fuss where its not beneficial, especially as a non black person, for the obvious reasons of how fandoms typically treat black fans. But, there IS an issue, however small a percentage… so wheres the line?

I must admit, this one gave me an off vibe 😅 To one of your concerns, Let me put it this way:

"I know that Nazi will never change his mind, so I'll let him keep speaking loudly in the room where I and everyone else is sitting. It won't make a difference if I say anything to him. If we ignore him, he'll go away."

Is that true?

Or will speaking up let that Nazi know that at least ONE person in the room hears their bullshit and doesn't accept it? Will speaking up let the people in the room that the Nazi was targeting realize that everyone else in the room isn't also a Nazi that condones the way they're being treated? Will it allow them to feel stronger in speaking up? Will it at least show that you are not a fellow Nazi, because your actions are what deliver- and silence and tolerance delivers nothing, in this case?

"Making a fuss where it's not beneficial"- I always say here that my entire purpose is not to change your minds, but to shatter the excuse of your ignorance. I could have always just ended it with "everyone's a goddamn racist for funsies on here and I hate all of you"- because in my experience when we talk about "where's the line" on here, it's almost non-existent for the majority, not the minority! It's incredibly tempting to damn you all!

Instead, I made an entire blog to give people a chance. If I, who actually undergoes the very bigotry I teach about, have the grace to do that for you, I do believe that everyone else can reach inside for the strength to apply and hold accountable. There's always a benefit to speaking up against racism and injustice, even if it's not "changing their mind".

Now, if you genuinely just don't want to do that, then don't- but recognize that that's not because nothing can be done! That said, you don't have to fight every battle, and every battle doesn't have to be a fight! For those who you genuinely think are just "new" or "learning" artists, when you point out the issue, you can offer guidance. "Hey, here's an idea on how to better capture this braid pattern in a way that more accurately reflects Black hair". It doesn't have to be a "callout" off rip. If they don't take it well, then that's on them. That's a reflection of their character, not yours. And as a nonblack person, that is a role in your allyship that is important, because I don't expect Black people to have to show grace and teach to those who do wrong by us.

So no, I can't give you some statistically defined line of "oh this is antiblackness". because it's not that simple and it never has been.

[misspermitted]

The funniest thing about the “accomplished woman” scene and the fallout therein is that Elizabeth shows, in her response, the exact opposite of the fault that Caroline accuses her of: that is, “Putting down other women to make herself seem better.”

Darcy means to compliment Elizabeth with the exchange, quite obviously I might add. Elizabeth, minutes before, was mocked for preferring reading to cards. Now, after Caroline lists a myriad of traits that a woman should have to be accomplished, all which she herself has, Darcy immediately dismisses these as not substantial. What is substantial and worthy of admiration in a woman: the improvement of her mind through reading. Which Lizzy was just mocked for, by Caroline. Literally anyone with a brain, even Mrs. Bennet, would’ve caught this as a compliment.

But at this point Elizabeth is in absolute denial to the point of being ridiculous (he’s staring at me because he hates me so much, he asked me to dance because he wants to mock me). So it’s likely she didn’t clock this as a compliment. But she certainly didn’t see it as a personal attack.

When Lizzy reflects on her and her sister’s education she says that it was focused on one’s drive to improve themselves. And that she had read almost every book she could get her hands on due to this drive. Darcy’s statement is a very good description of Lizzy and how she passes her time. She is self aware enough to know this.

But she calls Darcy out for being arrogant and having high standards anyway. Why? Because one shouldn’t put down women and compare them to others. It’s goddamn rude and elitist. One should be like Mr. Bingley: appreciating women for the effort they put into different things. No woman can be perfect, nor should she be.

In Darcy’s eyes it even more clearly shows how not a pick-me Elizabeth is. He compliments her, and she not only doesn’t accept it but has a go at him for putting down other women. She won’t be complimented like that! (Honestly I would’ve fallen for her to, damn.)

And then Lizzy leaves and Caroline says that she was putting down other women to make herself appeal to men, and Darcy essentially responds “Someone was definitely doing that.” And I think this is an important moment for Darcy: where he realises that Caroline is mean about other women and that’s not okay (he hasn’t actually gotten there about himself yet but hey).

So essentially Caroline calls herself out. Which I think is hilarious.

(This is also a really long meta of me saying that Elizabeth is not a pick-me that hates other woman who aren’t as smart as her, and I don’t like it when adaptions do that (*cough cough* pride prejudice and zombies). She has sisterly rivalry because siblings, but aside from her sisters the only women she mocks is Caroline (and only lightly) and Lady Catherine. Which is really not a lot considering she mocks literally every man she comes across (including Bingley).)

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Okay so when i saw all the impressions about Dog Of War on your post i was like hm sounds cool enough, i'll check it out.

I was NOT prepared to be THIS into it. Like goddamn. I was like "surely those who wrote that it rewired their brain chemistry were exaggerating" but uh nope. This was such a well written awesome story. I could see myself, sometimes down to the phrasing, in some of the ways the main character sees themselves. In the ways they think about who they are/were.

Also your description of plurality honestly made me (us? Idk.) question wether we're a system or not. Idk, still figuring that one out.

So I guess what we're trying to say is: Thank you for writing this awesome (and sometimes painfully relatable) story!

Oh we missed this ask coming in! Sorry if this is a super late reply but hey, better than never :P

We're very happy to hear how much you enjoyed it, and even happier that you elected to share such kind words with us. Writing Dog of War is what got us to realize and come to terms with our own plurality, and a lot of our personal issues and feelings are expressed through Princess. So whenever someone else tells us they felt seen or it led them to doing some self reflection it's immensely touching. Like a sort of secondhand confirmation that what we were and are experiencing is real.

We also just put a ton of work into it too, so the recognition of that effort and that it's more than 'just' a kink fic is really nice. Keeping the ego fed and motivation high is what helps us spend so much time and effort on it even a year later. We spend most of our work nights on it, and get over 1k words every night we write, you know!

Anyways, thank you so much for this message, and we hope you continue to enjoy Dog of War as we finish this final arc <3

[bornonthesavage]

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In Part 6

Part 4  Part 5  Part 7  AO3

“You. Fucking. Idiot.”

Eddie stared at his reflection, his hair disheveled from where he’d been pulling at it, and tried to burn those words into his skin with his eyes. Because really, what had he been thinking? Why had he invited Steve to his show? Well, he knew why. It was that goddamn smile and those stupid earnest eyes. The way he’d so casually and sincerely told him to call if he ever needed a ride. As if it were that easy. And maybe it was for Steve. But for Eddie? Who had worked so hard on not giving a shit what pretty rich boys thought of him? It was catastrophic.

Because either Steve was the best actor alive, which was highly doubtable, or he was just genuinely a great guy who liked to hang out with Eddie. Which, wasn’t that just a world ending notion? It was for Eddie. Because despite his best efforts (And yes, Gareth, he had put real effort in), this was starting to feel an awful, horribly lot like a crush. On a straight boy. Something he’d sworn he’d never do again. And with that came the terrible truth that he wanted Steve to like him.

So why had his traitorous mouth invited him to the show on Wednesday? It wasn’t Steve’s thing. And it was going to hurt when Steve looked around, listened to them play, and then walked away. Because why would he do anything else? Steve was from a different world, one that Eddie had never and would never fit into. But now, here Steve was, forcing his way into Eddie’s spaces. No, not forcing. Because Eddie had invited him. And fuck, he’d seemed so enthusiastic about wanting to come.

But you’ll be there, so that means I can make it my thing.

Jesus H. Christ. Who said things like that? Well, Steve Harrington, that’s who. Where the fuck had he even come from? If Eddie hadn’t been annoyingly aware of Steve for the last three and half years of high school, he might genuinely think his subconscious had dreamed him up as his own personal torture device. A straight boy who looked like a wet dream, smiled so sweetly, and actually wanted to spend time with Eddie? A veritable apple of Eden. Something that was right there, but still out of reach.

But it was fine. It was just a little crush. He could get over it. If Steve wanted to be friends, he could do that. He’d gotten over crushes before. Granted, they usually ended with him either getting his ass kicked or with the other person neve speaking to him again. But this time could be different. He could be different.

Eddie leaned in close to the mirror. “Get it together, you fucking loser! This is not a big deal. You and Steve Harrington can be platonic buddies. Just dudes being bros. Guys being pals. You will not think about how soft his lips are. Because he is straight, and we’re not doing this again! It doesn’t matter if he’s nice to you. We’re not so pathetic as to fall for every single pretty boy who isn’t mean. So get. A. Grip.”

He took another second to glare at himself before stepping away from the sink and opening the door. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he paused at the sight of all his friends staring at him, sprawled around Gareth’s living room

Jeff shook his head. “Dude, you do realize that door isn’t soundproof, right?”

Eddie glanced behind himself, heat flooding his face at the realization that all his friends had just heard that little meltdown. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, obviously. I don’t care.”

He walked to the sofa and dropped heavily on it, jostling Josie and Gareth. He’d become very good, over the years, at ignoring pointed looks and meaningful glances. Now, that skill was coming in handy, as he felt every eye in the room settle onto him.

“So,” Josie said, her voice faux casual in a way that only she could manage. “What exactly is going on with Harrington?”

Eddie chose that moment to become very interested in a stray sting on his jeans. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Grant snorted. “Seriously, dude? You couldn’t come up with a better lie than that? Or did you think none of us had noticed the sudden golden boy jock sitting with us every lunch period?”

And okay, look. Eddie knew he’d have to talk this out with the rest of the gang eventually. He’d been avoiding it, up until now, because the truth was that he didn’t know what to say. No matter what Steve said, Eddie had no idea why he had chosen their little band of misfits to join in with.

“Yeah, I mean, what about it?” he said with a shrug. “He lost the rest of his friends, so now he’s sitting with us.”

“Okay, but why?” Mic asked, holding up his hands. “Why us? Why you?”

“What, you don’t think my charm is enough to draw in the likes of Steve Harrington?���

It was a deflection, Eddie knew that. But only because he didn’t know. He didn’t know why him. Sure, Steve said that he like that Eddie was real. But Steve only knew that now. He hadn’t known it that first day, after they’d spoken together for the first time. Hell, Eddie hadn’t even been particularly nice to him.

“Not really, no,” Jeff said, looking around at the rest of the group for support.

Eddie leaned back on the sofa and pressed and hand over his heart. “Wow, Jeff. I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just break my poor little heart.”

Gareth, predictably, was the one to lose his patience with Eddie first. “Look, man, it’s just weird. Like, what if this is some big prank that the jocks cooked up to make y- us look stupid?”

Eddie wanted to pretend like he hadn’t heard that slip up. Because he got it. He did. And at first, he’d also thought it was some sort of joke. But now? He really didn’t think so. And maybe he was just a hopeless gay disaster, blinded by a handsome boy’s smile. But he also wanted to give himself credit. Both at the diner and in the car, he’d seen the way Steve looked at him. So open and vulnerable, a little bit afraid but also hopeful. And more than anything, he just seemed lonely.

“Look, I get what you’re saying. I do. And you know me, if I thought this was just a dumb jock prank I’d be the first to throw Steve out on his ass. But… I’ve hung out with him a couple times outside of school now, and I don’t think that’s the case. Steve is just… he’s lonely. He gave up the jock lifestyle, and with that all his friends. Have any of you taken the time to consider that maybe he saw our group, made up out outcasts and people who had no where else to go, and figured maybe he could find a place to fit in among us? That we’d be the people who wouldn’t judge him?”

And as he said it out loud, it was like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Because yeah. That actually made a lot of sense. What had Steve said? He’d given up the bullshit.

I want something real. Something that makes me feel anything more than dull acceptance of what I’ve always been told I should be. What I should want.

Eddie knew all about fighting against a society that told him he should want something he never would. About drawing a hard line in the sand and putting his foot down to say no. About fighting against the tide of fate that dragged him toward a future that had been predetermined by a father who cared more about his next score than his kid. So, if he could be something else, something better, why couldn’t Steve? He deserved that chance. Eddie would give it to him.

When he looked up and met the eyes of those around him, they seemed at least somewhat pacified. Which was good, because he didn’t want to fight them on this. He wasn’t going to turn Steve away. He’d already decided.

Grant was the first to break the silence. “But, Eddie. You should still be careful. None of us want you getting hurt.”

It was touching, really. When he’d first come out to Hellfire a year earlier, he hadn’t really known how it would go. Hell, it hadn’t even happened on purpose. But when Gareth, Josie, and Jeff had unexpectedly walked into the backroom of The Hideout and saw him lip locked with another guy… well, it had been pretty obvious. And he’d been terrified. Terrified that he was going to lose the chosen family he’d built up around himself. That he’d be rejected by the very people who he’d brought together.

But that hadn’t happened. They’d accepted him, embraced him. Told him that it didn’t matter who he loved, he would still be Eddie. And fuck, he loved them for that. But with that came an overprotectiveness that sometimes grated on his nerves. He spread his hands and gave them all a wide grin.

“Guys, calm down. You act like you all haven’t had little friend crushes on another person before. This is nothing. I’ll get over it, and then we can all move on with our lives. Besides, it’s not like I’m delusional. I know Steve’s straight.”

His friends didn’t seem totally convinced, but that was fine. He would show them. On Wednesday, when Steve came to the show, he’d show them that he and Steve could be friends. He was a big boy. So was Steve. Both figuratively and literally. Yeah, Steve was a very big boy. Hell, he could probably toss Eddie right over his shoulder and—No! Nope. Crap. Okay. This might be more difficult than he’d initially thought.

[allwormdiet]

Insinuation 2.2

Time for another day of learning and adventure at Winslow High

That does have to be weird, though, right? Like "I fought a big badass villain last night and survived, my whole world has been changed by this encounter, I stared death in the face, what do you mean I still have to go to class and act like nothing changed?" Massive whiplash, I'd imagine.

Mrs. Knott gives the impression of being... better, at least, than Gladly. She's putting the effort in if nothing else, even if she has to leave the better-performing students alone in order to handle the rest of them, but that feels more like a matter of understaffing than any personal failure on her part.

God it's still messed up that Taylor has such little respite from bullying. This poor girl.

...I think this is the first time I've ever seen anything about Taylor knowing basic computer programming. Wonder if that ever comes back around.

And yeah Taylor, of course you have a geeky reputation, you're a fucking geek. Even setting aside the stuff with the bullying, like c'mon.

I saw a shitpost about how the single reason that Earth Bet is a dystopia is that Reddit is the number one news source in the world and there's something really funny about that idea.

Okay real quick the screenshot would be too small for me to add alt text, but “This article is a stub. Be a hero and help us expand it.” is an objectively hilarious line

And here we get the most information on any given Undersider, and it's immediately clear that Rachel has had a hard fucking life, like hell. Living on the streets as a teenage parahuman must be rough as hell, it's like living on the streets as a normal teenager except people want to recruit or imprison you while wearing stupid costumes instead of just police uniforms

(I would follow a Bitch fansite though, for real)

That's not how gangs work but whatever

So the ABB has a dragon man with dragon tattoos who uses the Chinese word for dragon as his cape name while being from Japan, a suicide bomber who dresses like a ninja, and a bomb Tinker. I don't know enough about Bakuda to really say but Lung and Oni Lee's gimmicks feel... mm. Lazy isn't the right word. Let's just stick with "racist" and move on so it stops bugging me

This is cute actually. She did a good job and she wants to like, celebrate that... and the only problem is that there's nobody she can celebrate with. I just made myself sad thinking about that.

And now she's basically Googling herself, which is also somehow cute.

There's something really funny about the idea that like. Taylor gets in touch with the Undersiders through a fucking Missed Connections post on a superhero message board. Like it's almost certainly the safest and most reliable way to get that message out, but that doesn't make it less comical.

And it looks like that's where we're leaving things.

Current Thoughts

Hit some highs and lows with this chapter honestly. Learning a little bit more about Taylor (swear to god I've never heard the programming thing come up before) and getting more of a breakdown on the Undersiders is all well and good, plus developments from the events of the night before, but again the whole Deal of the ABB grates pretty harshly. Like you don't need goddamn Edward Said to tell you that's all crap, it's just crap, and I don't think it reflects well on the author for putting that crap out there instead of thinking about it for maybe another thirty minutes first.

I gotta run some errands, 2.3 after that, God willing I don't have to read about the ABB for a while longer

[short-for-melancholy]

So last night I made a couple of extremely arrogant and mean-spirited posts. I deleted them several hours ago, but to summarize, i was bitching about someone and saying that in terms of being a nice and genuine person, I was leagues ahead of them, and that it's easy as hell to leverage these things to get people to fall in love with you, and that if you can't do it it's a skill issue. If you saw it, you know, and if you didn't, go ahead and imagine it worse than you're doing right now, bc it was really and truly one of the most thoughtless and unnecessary things I've ever said. The person I was talking about is someone I consider to be, at the very least, a delightful and friendly acquaintance, maybe even a casual friend if I stop being so uptight with the definition. There really isn't any excuse for saying that sort of thing, even if I didn't know she reads my blog. I'm really sorry. It was shitty of me, and tbh the fact that I didn't get immediately ousted from all our shared spaces is more than I deserve. I'm gonna turn off replies on this cause I'm sure some of you are gonna try and defend me or make me feel like I haven't *actually* done anything wrong bc 'everyone thinks mean things about other people they just don't say them' or whatever, but even supposing that were true, I think being exposed to someone's terribly rude thoughts about you is plenty of cause to feel completely betrayed and I'm not about to fucking defend that, and I don't want you to either. I fucked up real bad and I'm sorry for it.

Anyway she asked me to reflect on it, so we're putting that under the cut since that'll likely get long.

Some of this will probably sound like excuses or defending myself, but please bear with me as it's difficult to sort my thoughts out without honesty. I'm not going to publicly perform reflection bc that's not going to amount of anything. I'm going to reflect in the way that comes most naturally to me.

I have never really claimed to be a good person. Nice, sure. Lots of people would call me lots of nice things, and my closest friend gets mad at me for daring to say anything negative about myself, but everything about me that's good is a result of years of effort in opposition to my nature. Yknow how people say things like "you can get over anxiety by thinking about how stupid it is to imagine that strangers on the bus are judging you. That would be ridiculous, they have better things to do"? It's never worked for me bc I very much judge strangers constantly. It doesn't seem ridiculous at all to assume others are doing the same. And I do this about friends, too. Everybody I like, especially if we're close, I have at least one or two gripes about. I'll probably never bring it up, because if I'm spending time with you I like you enough to overlook it, but it's a safe bet that if anyone I know were to say 'tell me one bad thing about me and I promise I won't get mad' I'd have it ready to go. This, I'm assured by well-meaning friends, is normal.

But like. Is it? The girl I've wronged tells me having such negative thoughts about others is deeply unkind. And as much as I'd like to say 'thought crimes aren't real', the fact is that it doesn't actually matter if it's normal or not. I don't exist to be a Normal Person who never tries to better herself. It's always been important to me that I try to be a better person than I am currently. And while basically everybody who's gone to therapy and heard 'you can stop suicidal thoughts by teaching yourself not to think them' will give up without trying and say it's impossible to change your thoughts, I actually fuckin managed it, so I have no fuckin excuse for sitting here so goddamn long saying 'oh well it's not my fault my brain has a lot of negative opinions'. I've really stagnated badly and tbh I'm glad to have this pointed out to me, bc this isn't the kind of person I want to be. This person kinda sucks. And maybe it's the kind of thing I have to fake for a while, bc you can't stop negative thoughts before they start, but you sure as hell can shut them down once they show up. And if you do that consistently for long enough, they'll stop bothering. This is far from the first thing I've changed about myself with this tactic. It's doable.

There are of course other things I could improve on, too. Emotional regulation is something I find impossible. I'm not sure what I can really do with that, since it's an executive function and I probably have an executive dysfunction disorder. But there are workarounds. If I can stop getting annoyed by the things that annoy me, I can avoid getting Way Too Upset and doing stupid things because of it. Probably something to be addressed alongside the shutting down negative thoughts thing.

Another thing is lack of empathy. I can't exactly make myself feel feelings I don't feel, so this one also needs a workaround. It's far too easy for me to look at someone else's problems and get annoyed because it's not something *i* care about in my own life, so why should anyone else? This really just needs a simple change of perspective. Everyone has different priorities. I don't need to relate to them or understand them, I just need to remember that's the case. This isn't even a new task like I've applied this specific outlook to so many different things already. Just need to patch a few of the holes that showed up, probably after becoming fully aroace. Eminently doable.

It is kind of really obvious in hindsight that I've just been resting on my laurels for a while. I keep having thoughts like 'I need to improve something about myself. What's wrong that I can fix?' And the answer kept coming up 'nah u good'. That's not right. There's always something. There will always be something. I need to do a better job keeping my eyes open for that shit. And god I *really* need to be careful in group settings. One on one I've mostly managed to transform myself into something decent but the second there's a Group I revert back to College Boy Behavior and that fucking sucks. I need to figure out how to maintain the me that I actually like when there's people around. Far too easy to get carried away. Fucking sucks that people usually like the version of me that I hate. It would probably be a little easier to make that change if I didn't think everyone was gonna be disappointed. Oh well.

I think that's all the important stuff. I need to get some sleep. I hope I can figure out how to turn off replies. If you've read this far, thanks, and I'm really sorry. 💙

[thedragonofcauldron]

Im going to complain about something. It's something a lot of people complain about, but...from the other side. Part of me has wanted to respond to other complaints, to share my story as a show of solidarity from the other side - but I don't want to seem like I'm trying to make their conversations about me. So I'm just venting here.

When I started my current job, they had me do a physical, where they took my height and weight.

Today, about six months later, I weighed myself at home, and came up 15 pounds lighter.

And I want you to stop for a second, and think about what your reaction to that loss of 15 pounds was. Because chances are, you thought I was celebrating - but no. I've been sick, anemic enough to get sent home from work, and so bloated by the iron supplements that were trying to get my blood functional again that I didn't feel hungry and would forget to eat, and because of that Ive lost 10 fucking percent of my body weight- possibly more, because who knows how much (literal) shit is still sitting in my lower intestine and boosting that number upwards! My cheeks have sunken in. My belt has moved to the tightest loop. It hurts to rest my wrists or elbows on a desk surface, because the pressure foes right to the bones.

What I am is not healthy or good, and I want those 15 pounds back.

I have always been underweight and pale and frail. Maybe something is actually, medically wrong with me, I don't know. I've never deliberately tried to keep my weight down - on the contrary, I'm a lazy shit who eats too much junk. But even as a kid, I'd get compliments, people asking "How are you so skinny?" Through no effort of my own, people were envious of me - and as I look at my bones showing through my skin, and think of a PE teacher telling me that my BMI literally not existing because they didn't have that low a score on the chart was "better than being on the other side :)"

I am angry.

What I am, and have always been, should not be envied or idolized, because it is not healthy. It's always made me uncomfortable, being praised for something I put less than no effort into attaining, but as I sit here, exhausted and missing those 15 pounds because they were 15 pounds between me and starvation, I am angry that society as a whole is so God damn scared and disgusted by the idea of "being fat" that my shitty ass, failure of a body is seen as better.

No random person, teacher, employer, coworker, or doctor has ever suggested that my weight had anything to do with any problems I faced. I've never had my discipline or character or lifestyle questioned because of my shape, and it is fucked. Up!! That other people get that treatment because their body doesn't throw literally every calorie they consume onto the incinerator immediately! I hate that there are people, friends who are envious of my incompetent metabolism because other people are so goddamn shitty to each other about the shape of their bodies! People see me, with my bony ass dangling over oblivion, and ask how they can join me, and I want to cry and scream! You do not want this!

I hate how much society hates fat, and fatness. Sure, yeah, too much of anything isn't good for you - but you can die from having too much water in your system. Or be poisoned by goddamn oxygen. Bodies make and store fat for good reasons. You should not feel bad for having it! Skinny is not inherently good, and fat is not inherently bad! The shape of your body should not be, and IS NOT a reflection of your virtues or vices or values or VALUE as a person! Be kinder to others, and to yourself most of all! If you are able bodied, treasure that, no matter what shape or number is associated with it.

I can't. I can't erase the years, the generations that have layered on this hate and fear and cruelty towards the very concept of "fatness", and I can't pretend I know what it's like to be on the other end of the scale, where you're mocked are looked down on for just existing in your own skin. But. I just. I just want to say that from where my pencilneck is situated on that scale, I can also see it - the scale is fucked up.

I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't like this, that you didn't have to deal with this shit. I wish I could make it better. I wish I could help.

But all I can do is this - to scream into the void that I see you. I hear you. And you're fucking right.

Be good to each other. We didn't get to build our own meatsuits.

[pinknipszz]

HIS PLANS FOR VALENTINE'S DAY

⤷ toji fushiguro, hiromi higuruma, takuma ino, and hajime kashimo

TOJI reserves a table at a nice restaurant. toji doesn’t have a lot of money. he’s barely able to put food on his own table, so going out to eat quality dinner is really fucking rare. he knows how important valentine’s day is though, so toji puts in double the effort at work to rake in enough cash for a table at the restaurant downtown. it’s not michelin star or anything like that, but the atmosphere is nice and the food is good, so toji gives them a call the second he gets his next salary. he nearly busts his balls when they ask for a deposit though. but whatever. toji bites his tongue and makes the reservation anyway. dating is hard in this economy.

he also buys you gel nail strips. toji loves making you feel pretty. he is a very confident man, so of course he wants you to feel confident too. the only problem is how goddamn expensive it can be to get your hair, nails, and makeup done. toji doesn’t have a lot of money for himself but it’s nearly valentine’s day for god’s sake, so he explores the mall for something good to give you. he finds that gel nail strips are a safe option; they’re cute, accessible, and easily applicable. they don’t ruin your fucking nail beds either, so he buys plenty in your favorite colors and designs. the uv lamp is a little pricey, but he loves you enough to buy one that matches your room aesthetic.

HIROMI takes you to a gallery opening. hiromi is a modest man, and so is his idea of a date. with valentine’s day approaching, he decides to purchase two entrance tickets for a new art gallery in the heart of the city. he only learns about it from a coworker who suggests that they go together, but what’s better than critiquing art with your girlfriend? although there’s not much to do besides supporting local artists and eating finger foods, there’s an elegant simplicity to it that really reflects hiromi’s character. he values quality time above all else, and he doesn’t need frou-frou things to demonstrate that for him. 

he also buys you matching jewelry. valentine’s day is one of the rare occasions where hiromi is willing to indulge in materialistic temptations. since this will be your first of many together, hiromi wants to seal it in stone to make it more memorable. so he decides to visit a jeweler for something pretty to give you. however, that quickly proves to be much harder than he thought. hiromi never realized how many types of jewelry there are. necklaces, earrings, bracelets, pendants, anklets. the list goes on and on. don’t even get him started on what kind of gem to get you. pearls, crystals, beads, stones. at the end of the day, hiromi settles for something simple: thin matching sterling silver necklaces.

INO takes you out on a picnic. ino is a very humble and optimistic guy. he believes that as long as something is done right, its value is immeasurable no matter what, which is why he decides to go with something more simple and intimate. like a picnic! he knows it’s a risky choice. a lot of things could go wrong, like bad weather or a nearby hit-and-run, but he doesn’t let that deter him. ino triple checks the weather app before purchasing decorations for the picnic, like scented candles, a nice blanket, flowers, and more. he even orders a cute cake from the local bakery. something nanami himself suggested. 

he also buys you matching sonny angels. ino isn’t rich rich, but he doesn’t mind taking extra shifts at work to buy you something special. he knows about the existence of sonny angels. although ino is not as enthusiastic about them as most people, he understands the appeal. they’re cute, silly, and a little scary, and he enjoys the thrill of a good blind box, so when ino discovers sonny angel hippers, these ugly little things that can attach to your phone, he’s absolutely hooked. ino ends up buying a bunch of blind boxes for you to open together on valentine’s day, wanting to make sure that you two get the cutest combination possible. 

KASHIMO takes you to a carnival. kashimo is very excitable and loves a lively atmosphere. he’s not the kind of person to stress over quality food, fancy clothes, or the like. he just wants to have a good time with you. and you really can’t go wrong with carnival dates. everything about the carnival feels very casual to the point where you can be the most authentic version of yourself without having to worry about how you look or how much it costs. that’s what valentine’s day means to kashimo. there’s something nostalgic about them too, and being able to extend that feeling to you makes it all the more special for him.

he also buys you vinyl records and cds. kashimo knows how much you love music. even if you don’t own a record player, he insists on visiting the local music shop for vinyls to decorate your walls with. he just can’t help himself. with valentine’s day coming up, kashimo spends every single night refreshing the merch websites of your favorite artists, pleading to whatever gods are up there that they restock. when they do, kashimo is one of the first fifty people to order a limited edition cd you can play in your car. when he gets his hands on a signed copy, he knows he hit the jackpot. it does big numbers to his wallet but he couldn’t care less.

(masterlist) | (a/n: not proofread rip)

[ttuesday]

Hello! How would the gang members react to their s/o asking to eat them out? 👀

Alrighty I’ll be real with u, I was so confused with this cause I didn’t know who was supposed to be eating out who ;-;

I did it so it’s the gang member eating out the SO but if I’ve gotten this completely wrong pls just let me know <3

Arthur

Arthur doesn't think he's worthy to date you nevermind go down on you. But if it's what you want then Arthur will try his absolute best. Of course he mumbles "Don't be expecting much" and "I ain't really great at this" and a few other things like that.

But that does NOT reflect his skill. Arthur may not be confident in his ability but he's just being modest. He gets into a good rhythm, pays attention to what you like the most and isn't afraid to use his hands too.

Every noise you make encourages him to keep going and Arthur won't stop until you're fully satisfied. Afterwards, Arthur's a little surprised at how well that went. Honestly he expected himself to fuck it up somehow.

Charles

Charles is a very giving person so it doesn't take long for him to go down on you when y'all get into a relationship. He takes his time, making sure to appreciate every part of your body before finally settling in between your legs.

Charles knows exactly what he's doing so you don't need to worry about giving him any instructions. All you have to do is enjoy, which is pretty easy to do when you've got his mouth on your ~sensitive parts~

He is so goddamn dedicated to your pleasure, this man won't stop until you've came at least twice. Someone pls give him a gold medal cause he is E L I T E.

Dutch

Dutch likes it when you ask him. There's just something about you asking him to touch you and go down on you that really strokes his ego.

He rents a hotel room so ye can really make a night of it. Dutch strives off making things as intimate and sensual as possible so there’s a chance he might suggest you wear a blindfold or use some rope to make things more interesting.

Dutch edges you so goddamn much. He knows exactly what he's doing with his mouth but he won't let you finish until you're practically screaming his name.

Micah

This isn't exactly Micah's speciality. He's used to being the one receiving, not the one giving. But he does like you a lot so he's willing to give it a go. Micah won't admit this to you but at first he's a little intimidated. He knows you're good with your mouth but now he has to show his skill.

You can tell he doesn't have as much skill in this area as he'd like to admit but he definitely puts a lot of effort into it. With a little guidance from you, Miah starts to get the hang of it.

Turns out, Micah actually likes going down on you. He surprises himself with how much he gets you to moan and whimper by just using his mouth. It is a massive ego boost and he loves to tease you for as long as possible. Micah regrets not trying it sooner, he had no idea it'd be so much fun.

John

When you bring this up to John, it's when you're both out scouting a job. It's the only time alone you've had with him all day so you took the opportunity to talk to him about it. He raises his eyebrows and glances around "Right here? Now?".

Honestly if you want him to go down on you straight away then John has no problem doing that. It's actually a big turn on for him and it'll definitely make scouting more interesting than he'd thought it would be.

John really focuses when he goes down on you, making sure he catches every little thing that makes you moan or arch your back. When you grip his hair and apply some pressure, John instantly groans which makes the whole thing so much better.

Javier

Javier's excited. He talks himself up, promising you a night of pure bliss. He's a little nervous that he won't live up to expectations but he knows you and what makes you squirm so he thinks he'll be fine.

He's very generous and is quick to study your reactions to see what you like best. Javier is living his best life when his mouth is getting to work on you.

Afterwards, he showers you in compliments. Javier holds you as he tells you all about how beautiful you looked moaning his name.

Sean

Sean is ready whenever you are. He doesn't have a lot of skill or experience but he loves making you feel good. Honestly he's shocked he hasn't done this yet but he's confident he'll make it up to you.

He's very eager and doesn't hold back. Sean doesn't really know what he's doing so if you tell him to focus on a certain area or touch another part of you too, Sean does it without question.

When he starts to feel his length harden, Sean might start to go faster because he wants to get his own release soon too but just give him a few more orders and he'll settle down again. Oh and if you tug at his hair too harshly, he'll stop what he's doing to quickly complain before getting back to work.

Hosea

C'mon now we all know Hosea's got experienced so he knows the basic techniques to please you.

Not only that but Hosea likes to keep track of what really gets you going in general so he already knows what he should incorporate into it.

Hosea loves the idea of going down on you and honestly it's probably one of the first ~activities~ y'all do.

This man has the power to make you come within 2 goddamn minutes. He definitely has a talented mouth.

[peterprkrsbtch]

sapphire - part 2

Peter Parker x reader

A/n: Part 1 is up on my page! There’s a couple flashbacks in this one so I put the dates before so it doesn’t get confusing. If you enjoy this one, like or reblog to share! I already wrote part 3 and it’s my favorite one yet so that’ll def be up soon :)

tag- @juliannaamonroe​

Warnings: swearing, make out, violence

(September 1)

We’re one minute away. Come out hoe!

You smile as you read the text, glancing at yourself in the mirror again, nerves and excitement ablaze in your stomach. You’d been planning for this day since last winter, and now it was finally here. You adjust your carefully styled hair and double check that the natural makeup you applied was sitting on your skin correctly.

Of course it was. That goddamn injection sometimes made you feel like a vampire out of twilight and sometimes you still got surprised when you saw your own face while passing a mirror or a particularly reflective window. You smooth down the ruffles of your short black skirt and tug the top of your tank top down so a bit more of your curves show.

You put on your white sneakers and tug your shirt back up to cover your chest again. We’ll have to work up to that, I guess. A long honk sounds from outside your apartment building and you curse as you scramble to grab your backpack and phone before running down and out the front steps.

“Awwww,” You say sweetly at the sight of the two girls who had become your best friends. “That’s the shirt you were wearing when we met, Ally.” You jokingly brush away a tear, pretending to be ultra touched.

“Best damn day of my life.” Ally says from her spot in the drivers seat, laughing at your dramatics. She may be joking around, but her sentiment makes your heart clench. This year really was going to be different.

***

(July 3)

You quickly realized you needed to find some Midtown friends if your plan for senior year was going to work. If you dared to show up looking, well, like you do, completely alone and friendless, you might become even more of an outcast than you were before. The first month of summer had been the least lonely time of your year so far, thanks to a certain Spiderman.

The two of you spent most of your nights together, flying through the city, fighting crime together, and talking. The “slow” nights that used to fill you with boredom quickly became your favorite when he was involved. The sound of his laugh and the jokes he makes during fights quickly became the highlight of your days.

But you couldn’t let yourself get too distracted by him. After all, neither of you knew what the other looked like. The only other boy you’d ever found remotely cute (other than celebrities) was nerdy Peter Parker from your high school. He wasn’t your usual type and he seemed to be just as shy as you were, so you had little (zero) hope that it would ever lead to anything more than a smile during the hallway if you accidentally made eye contact.

Sorry Spiderman, but no way in hell are you gonna make me lose my focus. The loneliness you had felt through the last three years of high school was too much. Your plan had to work. So that night as the two of you patrolled together, you softly mentioned that you were going to a pool party tomorrow and wouldn’t be able to meet.

He seemed a bit disappointed, but you brushed it off, trying to remember the names of the girls at your school who seemed nice. Peter, however, couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that you had told him where you would be tomorrow. There was only so many pool parties in a city like New York.

You tried not to think about who was under the Spiderman mask out of respect and, to be honest, it seemed like a pointless endeavor. Peter was not the same. No matter how tired he was from patrol, he always had time to lay awake before he fell asleep and picture what you would look like under the mask.

There wasn’t very many people who understood Peter’s secret life. None, actually, until you. Maybe that was why he was so intrigued by you, because you were so similar, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t it. He liked you. And he hated himself for it. But once you mentioned the pool party, he made sure to take one long last glance at the color of your hair before you two said goodbye. Just in case he happened to see that same hair tomorrow.

(July 4)

You were so, so nervous. Your closet of exclusively sweats and hoodies was trashed as Part 1 of your plan, much to your mother’s happiness. She had always been honest about her hatred of your junior year clothes and was extremely excited to purchase everything you needed. As distant as she was, you had to give her a little credit.

Although you’d been wearing the new clothes for the past month, this was the first time you were doing it so publicly. Your denim shorts exposed miles of smooth leg, and you’d decided to wear a red tube top in honor of the holiday-not to mention it really showed off your curves. You’d meticulously done your hair and makeup like you’d been practicing the past month and prayed that somebody would talk to you today.

You’d seen the flyer for the Fourth of July party on Instagram, which had been step 2. Unfortunately, you had two followers. Your mom and her boyfriend. Step 2 is a work in progress.

One long walk later, and you’re in front of the address. You swear you could explode of nerves right there, but instead you take a deep breath and force your legs to carry you inside the house and towards the people out by the pool.

Your eyes are so focused on your destination, the glass sliding door, that you barely notice when you bump shoulders with someone, causing you to drop your phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You say, reaching down to grab your phone.

“Oh my god, stop. That was totally my fault.” You stand back up to see the girl who was speaking, and you recognize her immediately. Her name is Ally, and she’s a part of the most popular group at school. Despite her long black hair and sweet smile, you haven’t heard many good things about her. Not the type of person you were looking for.

“Do you go to Midtown? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Ally says, making no move to walk away from the conversation.

“Yeah, actually. My name is Y/n?” You don’t miss the way her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen with confusion and shock. You’re embarrassed now, realizing maybe you weren’t as invisible as you’d thought. In an effort to explain away the last few years, “My dad left a couple years ago and it was pretty hard on me, but I’m all better now.” You flash the most dazzling smile you can manage and hope she accepts it.

“No way, mine did too!” She gasps as she grabs your hands. You feel a small pang of guilt at that. It was a lie, you had no idea who your dad was and frankly, you didn’t think your mom knew either.

The conversation starts to flow between you and Ally easily as you make your way out to the pool. “This is my best friend Betty.” Ally introduces you to the sweet-as-pie girl and the three of you quickly fall into a conversation like you’d known each other forever. A few of their guy friends tried to come up and talk to you, but she just waved them away. “Leave us alone, we just met our new best friend.”

You felt bad for judging Ally so harshly earlier, blindly trusting the stupid rumors you’d heard about her. Popular or not, the three of you got along better than any of the other friends you’d tried to make throughout your life. They do briefly make fun of your instagram before forcing you to take and post pictures with the two of them by the pool. They both tag your account.

Peter didn’t seem to share the good luck you did. He’d dragged Ned to 6 different pool parties across the city and saw no one who looked like Sapphire. Disappointed, he spent the night patrolling alone and dodging fireworks.

***

(September 1)

Since that day, you’d become a trio with Ally and Betty. The day after the pool party you’d woken up to nearly 1,000 followers on your instagram. Everyone from Midtown who never gave you a second look when you had your hood shoved over your head now wanted to be your friend.

The three of you spent the rest of your summer days together, and you fit into the popular friend group better than you could have imagined. Maybe you watched too many teen movies, but you expected them to be mean. The only mean one was Flash, and even he was basically harmless. You’d given up Saturday night patrols with Spiderman for a weekly girls night with your new best friends. You thought having new friends and a bustling social life would’ve made it easier to forget about Spiderman, but somehow he seeped into every area of your life.

That damn laugh. As Ally and Betty sing along to the radio loudly, you bite your lip to stop a dumb smile from rising to your lips. God, just thinking about him made you flustered. As Ally drives into the school parking lot, nerves bubble in your stomach.

As if you aren’t stressed enough, your brain decides this is the perfect moment to remind you of the one night this summer you and Spiderman haven’t talked about since.

*** (August 14)

The two of you were sprawled out on a gravel rooftop next to each other. Not the most comfortable of relaxing spots, but you’d both grown tired of flying around under the summer heat with no hint of trouble for miles.

“This sucks.” Spiderman huffs out.

“Rude.” You reply quickly, even though you know he isn’t talking about you.

“Oh, no,” He immediately sits up. “I didn’t mean you suck, I just meant, you know, because there’s not much going on right now and it’s hot and-” He sees your cheeky smile and stops himself with a laugh. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cute.” You bite your lip. The fuck did I just say? Before you can begin to explain, he jumps to his feet.

“Spidey sense, let’s go!” You jump up too and follow after him as he jumps off the building. Thank god. I’ve never been so grateful that someone’s in trouble. The fight was tough, even with the both of you. These men had strange guns that keep firing at you and Spiderman even though you’d tried multiple times to crush them with your powers.

“The guns are magic-proof! I can’t destroy them!” You yell over to Spiderman as you take down one of the men in between punches.

Somehow, two men get ahold of their guns and corner you. Just as you start levitating to fly over them, a web shoots from somewhere behind them and the men and their guns are yanked away. Spiderman wastes no time and you swear he seems angry with the two men as he webs them to the wall next to their friends before picking up the guns and violently smashing them on the ground.

You’re still frozen in shock, watching him. When he seems to be satisfied with the broken pile of guns on the floor, he runs back over to you. “I’m so sorry, I know we promised-” You finally break out of whatever trance you were in to place a finger over his lips, casting a disgusted glance towards the men staring at you from their webbed cocoons.

“Not here.” You say quietly, and fly the two of you quickly up to the roof. He blinks for a second, his head spinning from the speed. You rarely use your full speed, especially with him, but you had to get out of there. “Okay, go ahead.” You say after a second of silence.

“I’m so sorry, I know we agreed not to get in each other’s way, and I know you can handle yourself, probably better than I can. Hold on, I didn’t mean I handle you. That sounded weird. Anyways, I just got so angry when I saw those men pointing their guns at you I had to-” He’s talking about the agreement you two had made when you first started working together. You both obviously were skilled, so you agreed that you wouldn’t interrupt each other’s fights unless asked.

“Spidey, I really don’t care you interrupted. It was hot.” JESUS CHRIST NOT AGAIN. You immediately winced and slap a hand over your mouth. “Oh my god I did NOT mean to say that I’m so sorry.”

Your rambling is cut off as Spiderman’s hand travels up to the bottom of his mask and you think your eyes might fall out of your head with how wide they become as he begins to pull it up, revealing the soft pale skin of his neck.

His jaw, chin, and then lips become visible as he lets the mask rest on his nose. The 0.5 seconds that have passed since you stopped talking feel like an eternity until he suddenly leans forward, crashing his lips into yours. Spiderman is an amazing kisser, you decide, as you gently kiss him back.

WHAT AM I DOING? Your mind is going haywire but instead of stopping, you deepen the kiss and nearly smile when he lets out a low moan. Everything you’ve told yourself about focus and distractions flies out the window when his gloved hands clutch your waist and pull you closer to him than you thought possible.

It feels like it’s only been a second when he pulls away, but your eyes flicker to his swollen lips and you know it must have been longer. You smile as you stare at his lips, only inches from yours, but as your gaze moves to the rest of his exposed skin the smile drops slowly.

Your rational mind comes back. It’s easy to forget when you’re with him that you’ve only known each other a couple months. How could you do this? Your first time making out with a boy, and he doesn’t even know your name.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whisper as he starts to say something.  “Sorry, what were you going to say?” He blinks slowly and takes a deep breath before stepping away from you.

“Nevermind. See you tomorrow.” And he swings away from you. You silently curse yourself for being such a big mouth, wanting to know what he would have said. You can’t help the small voice in the back of your head, telling you that you made the wrong decision.

You raise your hand to run your fingers along your tingling lips before flying home as fast as you can.

***

(September 1)

You wince at the painful memory before reminding yourself everything was back to normal the next day and neither of you mentioned it again. You still weren’t sure if that was good or bad. You force all thoughts of Spiderman out of your brain and even give Ally an encouraging cheer when she successfully parks on her first try.

You don’t remember Midtown having so many fucking students last year, but maybe it was because they were all staring at you. Any confidence you’d had as you opened Ally’s car door had disappeared as everyone around you turned to gawk. The bright smile you’d pasted on a second ago quickly fell and you glanced at Ally nervously.

“Come on, girls!” She says enthusiastically, grabbing an arm from you and Betty as she breaks the brief moment of awkward silence. God bless you Ally. As the three of you hoist your bags over your shoulders and make your way into the school, you mouth a quick thank you her way, hoping she can see your genuine appreciation. She smiles at you. “I’m happy we’re going into this year as three instead of two.”

Betty leans forward to smile at you. “Me too, y/n. I’m really happy you’re here.”  You smile back brightly. There really was no one as sweet as Betty.

“You won’t be so happy I’m here when I talk your ear off during class.” The three of you continue laughing and joking your way down the hall to stop at your lockers.

“Oh my god, is that Y/n?” Ned interrupts Peter’s latest ramble about his night with Sapphire. Usually, he really did listen. Ned was fully invested in the superhero love story, as he called it, unfolding. But the sight of a girl notorious for hiding in her own baggy clothes across the hall in a miniskirt and tank top was more important.

“Y/n?” Peter asks, confused why Ned wasn’t paying attention. But when he turned around to see what Ned was staring at, he understood. He’d seen you around school the past three years, but never like this.

You looked like a fucking model. And everyone in the hall couldn’t help but stare. “Holy shit.”

“Right, dude?” Ned breathes out, the two of them shamelessly staring. “Why didn’t that happen to me over summer? Oh my god, of course she’s friends with Betty.”

Peter laughs as his best friend goes on about “two pretty best friends” but he can’t take his eyes off of you. The light in your eyes as you joke with your friends, making them double over in laughter, feels strangely familiar. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on his part because you’re extremely pretty.

He watches in surprise as you and Ally walk up to the AP Chem classroom, waving goodbye to Betty sadly as she heads off to English. You turn to walk into the classroom after Ally, but you pause and look back down the hallway-right at him. Instead of yelling at him for being a creep like he expected, you smile at him widely before heading into the class. He exhales deeply and glances down at his schedule quickly, a smile appearing. AP Chem.

Of course his thoughts are still consumed by Sapphire, but it was hard to ignore you especially after seeing his name on the seating chart next to yours in the back row. Plus, Sapphire was the one who’d shot him down after he finally tried to make a move after catching onto the hints he thought she’d been dropping.

He felt bad for thinking that about her, he didn’t blame her at all. He knew there was a million reasons they shouldn’t be together-and he didn’t want to know specifics on why he wasn’t good enough. Sapphire hadn’t brought up that night since, and he was fine to pretend it never happened.

You were already in your seat at the lab table, but Ally was still standing next to you waving her hands wildly as you two spoke. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he freezes in place, unsure of whether or not to go sit down. He’d thought you were cute, and a little shy like him in freshman and sophomore year and he remembered the many times he would look at you from across the room like he is now.

His eyes had been quick to find you whenever you two were in the same room ever since the first day of school freshman year when you smiled at him in the hall. Even last year, when all he saw of you was a curled up lump at your desk or a sliver of hair peeking out from behind your hood he still noticed you.

Luckily for him, the bell rings and he slides into his seat just as the teacher begins speaking. “Hi, Peter.” You lean over to him, your shoulders nearly touching, and whisper so the teacher doesn’t hear. “I’m y/n.” You smile warmly as his cheeks and ears turn light pink.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself. We’ve gone to school together since we were 6?” Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed and you purse your lips together.

“No, I know, just-” Peter notices you seem a bit frustrated as you glance around the room and then lean even closer to him. “Everybody thinks I’m new.” You nervously mess with your bracelet.

“You do look a bit different.” He points out and you raise your eyebrows before sighing slowly and shrugging.

“I was just sick of feeling invisible, you know. Not because I care what anyone here thinks. Last year was just, really, really lonely.” Peter watches you intently as you speak, hanging onto your every word.

Your confession made him sad. If only he’d been brave enough to ask if you were okay. You pause for a second and meet his eyes. Any other guy in this school would’ve laughed at you by now. You gesture to your outfit and nervously adjust your skirt. “I’m also not a superficial person. It wasn’t about changing how I looked, I just needed the confidence to put myself out there.” You pause and nod towards Ally with a smile. Peter glances over to Ally and sees her blow you a kiss, which you catch across the room with a giggle.

I miss you! She mouths with a dramatic frown and this time Peter laughs quietly with you. “I thought she was a bitch before I met her.” He looks at you with surprise to find you smiling at him. “But,” you hold up a finger for dramatic effect, “because I put myself out there, I met my best friends. A lot of people around here judge on appearances. I’m not like that anymore.” You say with confidence.

“That’s really cool of you.” Peter whispers back, and the sound sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. He’s so close to you and the feelings you thought you left behind two years ago don’t seem so left behind as you stare into his warm eyes. “For the record, I’d be your friend no matter what you look like.”

Peter has only been this nervous a couple times before in his life, and he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Sapphire with the way he’s thinking about you. He watches as you smile warmly at his words and extend your hand towards his.

“Friends? Even though I'm so much uglier now?” You pout your bottom lip out, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He nearly laughs out loud and has to remind himself you’re still in class. “I know guys go wild for the homeless man sweatpants look.” You’re both trying to hold back your laughter, shaking silently in the back of the class as he raises his hand and grabs yours.

“Friends.” Peter isn’t sure why he keeps going, but he does. “And just so you know, you were never ugly. I don’t know why you tried so hard to hide yourself last year, but even then,” the words leaving his mouth sound confident but Peter takes a deep breath before looking up from his lap to meet your eyes. Your wide eyes and surprised smile give him just the confidence he needs to finish. “You could never be ugly.” Peter can hear his heart beating.

You blink at him. This boy could not be real. Here he was, basically implying that the one thing you had wanted all along, for somebody to notice you, was true. Not only was it true, but it was Peter fucking Parker telling you this. Despite everything that had changed you in the past year, the giddy feeling in your bones brought you back to sophomore year and pining over Peter.

“Really?” Your smile spreads and he seems to let out a deep breath of relief.

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you until your sweet moment is interrupted by a fat ass syllabus dropping onto the lab table in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “This class is gonna be so much homework.” You turn the page so Peter can briefly see the list of projects alone, and it’s enough to make him cringe.

Something about the way the whispers travel back and forth between you all class makes you realize you hadn’t fallen into a friendship this easily, even with Ally. Even with Spiderman, your brain points out.

A red and blue suit swings into your mind and you are hit with a wave of guilt. Not two hours ago I was thinking about my make out with Spiderman, and now I’m comparing him to Peter? 

You have all but one class together, and you can’t help but glance in Peter’s direction any chance you get. The only time you don’t see him is at lunch, even though you look all around the lunch room for him or the boy he’d been standing with this morning. You thought it would be too creepy to ask him where he’d been.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang, and you were sure if you didn’t have superpowers you would’ve been exhausted. School is kinda draining when you actually acknowledge people. Ally and Betty share your complaints about being tired on your drive home, all three of you agreeing you need naps. You kiss them both on the cheek and wave goodbye before heading up to your room.

Forget what I said about having superpowers. I’m fucking tired. You lay down on your bed, groaning into the pillow at the thought of having to patrol tonight. You sat up abruptly. You’d never dreaded patrol, it was always the thing you looked forward to. You glance towards the suit in your closet and sigh.

It’s not patrol I’m nervous about. It’s him. You feel incredibly guilty about today. I’m not a two timer. If I want to like Peter, I have to talk to Spiderman about that kiss first. You start to make your way over to the closet before another wave of exhaustion hits, sending you straight back to your bed.

After a nap. Then we’ll talk.

[themoomoorn]

It's ultimately proof that stans and loonies fold in on themselves because Cyril represents a triple-pronged threat:

He was treated like garbage in Almyra and his views that reflect this are wholly independent of Fodlan. None of his Houses endings involve him returning there in any capacity, and he cannot get a paired ending with the only other playable Almyran in the game. (Almyra GoOd, Fodlan BaD, goes against the rich prince Claude having a very rosy view of his homeland. Hopes even throws in some pretty bad stereotypes that only give Cyril's dim view of the place legitimacy)

He was then forcibly made a slave in House Goneril, something that comes up at multiple points in Houses, but is usually downplayed to make Hilda look better, and is erased outright in Hopes (Hilda is one of the most popular characters on both sides of the ocean despite being a pretty realistic portrayal of having a certain kind of racism. Holst is similarly at least liked on a memetic level. This would also have to make people acknowledge that Claude, despite allegedly being very anti-racist, makes concessions to Hilda's views because House Goneril is one of the few places in the Alliance that likes him well enough, and he needs all the support he can get in being acknowledged as Duke)

The archbishop of the continent's goddamn majority religion winds up saving him from slavery with practically no strings attached, and the whole scenario is so bonkers to him that he becomes an attendant-cum-chore boy. After being plucked from the worst that his motherland and his forced adoptive homeland had to offer, is it any wonder that a neutral religious area that accepted him would be seen as his new forever home? (RELIGION BAD! RHAGE BAD! SHE MADE HIM HER SLAVE INSTEAD! Never mind that Cyril doesn't give a damn what anybody thinks of him and does as he pleases, never mind that Seteth himself mentions that Cyril owes Rhea nothing and can do as he wishes, including acceptance into the Officer's Academy if he really wanted it. He's also never treated poorly for not following the Seiros Faith, and when he does say a Seiros prayer for Jeralt in Houses, Rhea doesn't exactly force him to do it either.)

The fact that loonies try to regurgitate the same talking points that Eggstans throw up in regards to Cyril is very telling. There's no way to reconcile that what they want Cyril to be doesn't align with canon at all, because it means acknowledging that Rhea did a good thing, Hilda is kind of a shitty person, and some of Claude's own values are very, very skewed. Remember how in Houses, they put in the effort to have Claude scream, cry, and throw up at the pirates that tried to masquerade as Almyrans during the Alois/Shamir paralogue, but has absolutely no presence in the Hilda/Cyril paralogue where actual Almyrans invade? Similar thing happens for his own Hopes paralogue, which is just a regurgitation of the Alois/Shamir one. And when Shahid invades twice, he's more fixated on Almyra's reputation, which...involves actually raiding and invading for dick measuring purposes. That is not a good look. Or how with Holst, his need to destroy the Seiros faith to allegedly let more views flow in feels extremely hollow, since he has a fairly dim view of religion in general and he doesn't interact with other non-Fodlanese people. To him, it's Fodlan versus Almyra and "maybe a few tokens to make me look better."

But this would have to make loonies acknowledge that while Claude may not be amoral the way Edelgard his, he's flawed as hell, and in Hopes especially he does border more amoral than not, and that isn't a good thing. Much like how the devs shot themselves in the foot with throwing training wheels on Edelgard the Red Emperor, any intrigue that comes with Claude lashing out and being hurt in turn, down to the downright fascinating fact that he'll turn a blind eye to Hilda's racism if it means currying her favor, is gimped because they really don't know what the hell they're doing with him.

Well, looks like even a broken clock's right at least twice a day; an edelstan on twitter was pissed a few days ago when they saw that Cyril's Meet the Heroes description described his time “working” for House Goneril as “some odd twists and turns”, pointing out that such vague wording was most likely used due to a combination of 3H not caring about Cyril's backstory and IS needing to sanitize Hilda's image so she can sell better in Heroes.

Hahaha,

It's funny because on SPE some people made memes, and you have angry people in the comments, being angry and basically lying or making up facts to either diminish Cyril's uh, "working conditions" in House Goneril, or try to sweep it under the rug to give some "Rhea BaD" takes again

Like :

(meme where Claude doesn't criticise his allies for keeping slaves, but blame racism on the lady who saved the child slave)

"Faerghus is the most violent country because they killed the emperor and enacted a coup while being backed up by mole people" to talk about that time when Loog got his independance

"Rhea BaD bcs Cyril can't learn how to read if you don't support him with Lysithea" even if he writes in the Post TS regardless of recruiting Lysithea or not

"Claude tries to talk to Cyril out of fighting but Cyril drives to a suicide charge with Rhea's blessing so Rhea BaD" in GW, with the source being, idk, since the person who came with that take never sourced it

"Rhea BaD she used the regicide in Faerghus to get rid of her political enemies" you mean the dude who tried to kill her?

"Supreme Leader wouldn't be able to continue warring if Rhea DeD bcs else she would be invading people and would lose public support" like the Supreme Leader? From the land of MAGA? Lose public support?? If she invades nations to restore Adrestia to its glorious past???

"Cyril never said he wasn't eating well in house Goneril" but the JP line says he was always hungry in PAlmyra and Fodlan before coming to the Monastery...

Anyways, as expected, even if FEH tries to sanitise some of Fe Fodlan's most, uh, contentious points, we will always have discourse because some people just prefer their fanon to canon, and while I can understand them to a degree (look Willy is basically fanon at this point) it's always hilarious to see people refuse to engage or even consider that the game they "love" says X when they prefer Y.

When it comes to, in general, Church related characters or Kingdom related characters, we see a lot of discourse like this popping up because while FE Fodlan shat on them (to an extent, for the Church related characters) FEH has to give them the minimum spotlight they give to other characters of the franchise, so yes, Hilda's popularity most likely is the reason why Cyril in MYH just had some "odd twists and turns" (tfw Begnion Senators aren't as popular :( so Muarim was mentionned to have been a slave) but his voiced lines has him mention he was captured as a "war prisoner"...

Putting everything it adds up and we have : Cyril was captured as a war prisoner when he was 11-12 by the Gonerils, was hungry there, complained about "work being hard" there (when Cyril doesn't complain at all in GM despite the huge workload he has!), and implies to Mercedes to have been mistreated in House Goneril because he was Almyran (which matches Hilda's prejudices in her C support about Almyrans).

Why is Cyril's backstory so "discourse rising" then?

Is it because Rhea BaD cannot rescue a child from slavery from a popular character's family/household? Or because Hilda's laziness and preference to let other people do her chores looks especially wrong if we take into consideration that those "other people doing her chores" at home might be children "kept as prisoner of wars and fed twice per week"? Or because it reflects badly on Claude (in both games) who wants to end discriminations and prejudices by getting rid of the institution that rescued an abused child, while working hand in hand with the family that abused said child based on his origins?

(lol@the "but Faerghus BaD" bonus point in the earlier SPE thread I mention, I don't even understand why it was brought up lol)

Back to your post, it's hilarious how this edelstand was pissed becayse FEH whitewashed Cyril's backstory to maybe sell more Hilda alts, when Pat'n'pals try their hardest (in FE16, Nopes and even FEH!) to "alter the script" to shit on Rhea, Dimitri to make Supreme Leader alt'able.

Maybe there's hope for this twitter/X stan?

[beautifulterriblequeen]

A Tiadrin theory

I woke up this morning with a sudden headcanon about Tiadrin, and as I poked at it, it filled out nicely, so I’m gonna go ahead and call it a theory at this point.

It gets angsty, as all good Moonshadow theories do. If your heart doesn’t weigh 6 tons by the time you reach the end of this post, I didn’t capture the feeling properly.

Several bits of detail flutter around this mysterious woman, and I’ve theorized various versions of her circumstances, her relationship with Runaan and Ethari, her former position before the Storm Spire, the reasons she went there, and the reasons Runaan was so hellbent on avenging her dishonor.

I don’t think any of them landed as well or tied together as neatly as this one, though. Hence “theory” instead of just “headcanon.” Here we go:

FIrstly, some meta information. This is a fun tweet, but in this post I’m looking directly at “belief systems as sources of both comfort and restraint” and at the “weight of guilt” and “cycles of trauma” lines, in regards to Moonshadow culture, and specifically Moonshadow assassin training.

And raise your hand if you’ve been looking further afield than the front-and-center Janaya-with-Soren nod from “ripped women who teach soft boys to stab,” because I have. TDP is full of parallels and imperfect mirrors.

So, in the spirit of soft yet angsty cycles and the ripped women who perpetuate them, Theory Part I: Tiadrin trained Runaan, because she was the leader of the assassins before he was.

She’s referred to as a mastermind. Assassin leaders need to be good with plans of all sizes. We’ve seen how Runaan silently adapts to chaos and doesn’t tell anyone what his new plans actually are. He’s a good leader. But he also had to learn those skills from someone. Whoever instructed him was a tactical genius, and also very Moonshadow, and Runaan was an adept student.

Also, Tiadrin is a goddamn badass. She’s several inches shorter than Lain, Runaan, Ethari, and Viren. But she is a powerhouse in battle. She knows her physics well enough to drag this 6′2″ human battle mage skidding across the floor. Monster thighs, monster intellect.

As a 5′4″ woman who trained in jujitsu for several years, let me just say: gender equality in battle is great, but physics does not care. It will crush your popsicle-stick ass if you try to chuck a 250 lb person across the room and your math is off. The most accurate fighters are the ones who know how hard physics hits back when you’re sloppy.

Tiadrin earned every inch of respect, and every inch of her thigh circumference, the old-fashioned way. She worked for it, all day every day. Runaan does the same thing. He might have half a foot of height on her, but he trains like the world will crush him if he’s not perfect. And that’s very Moonshadow assassin in its own right, because it will, and it tried. Tiadrin knew what she needed. And she knew what Runaan, soft boy that he is, needed. And she made sure she trained it into him, all day every day.

Tiadrin is one of the reasons that Runaan survived the fight in Harrow’s chamber. She made him the fighter he is, the person he is, and that was just enough to pull him through... so he could see his own mentor trapped in a coin. Yay, thanks Viren.

Theory Part II: Runaan’s squad was made up of all the elves Tiadrin has personally trained, or trained by proxy.

If Tiadrin was Runaan’s trainer and mentor, then her honor was his honor. And when she supposedly faltered and fled at the Storm Spire, that suddenly cast him, as an individual assassin and as the current assassin leader, in a terrible light. If his mentor was a coward, what did she teach him? Would he also duck and run when things got hopeless, and abandon his duty?

The doubt that must’ve swirled around him when the village learned the terrible news about Lain and Tiadrin must’ve sliced right through him. Thousand-yard stare, biggest internal Oh No ever. Runaan lives to serve his people, and to have them doubt him, after all he has done to train them and protect them from harm, would be the worst kind of pain. He had to make it right.

But not just him. Assassins seem to take solo missions even for their first kill, if Eljaal’s covered shoulders are any indication. You can Moonshadow your feels if you don’t have to watch your friend kill someone, if you don’t have anyone watching while you stab someone to death. You can pretend it’s all serene and just and smooth and valid and honorable. You can hold to your love of life and dance right past your embrace of death, if no one else sees it. But Runaan’s mission had 6 members. They were definitely going to have to watch each other murder people. Why?

Tiadrin’s honor was their honor. An extended family of brothers, sisters, cousins, fosterlings, anyone who was drawn to Tiadrin, or her to them, bonded together over their family feels and protective instincts. They were family. And then their leader fell, her honor crushed.

They had to make it right.

They all carried Tiadrin’s honor with their own, taught by her personally, regarded as honorable assassins. Until she seemed to have a fatal flaw in her character. Then everyone wondered if that flaw got passed down, too. The assassins had to prove that it hadn’t been, for the sake of their people, and for all of Xadia who trusted them to take out threats in the dark. They had to go set right Tiadrin’s “mistake” and take Harrow for Zym’s death. All of them. Every single one, no exceptions.

No exceptions. That’s why Rayla had to go, too. Tiadrin taught Runaan everything he knew about being an assassin, and when she moved to the Storm Spire, Runaan dutifully passed Rayla’s mother’s teachings to Rayla herself, feeling like part of the family, an essential connection between mother and daughter, between assassin mentor and mentee. He tried to get it just right, just perfect, so Rayla would feel like she’d been trained by her actual mom as much as possible. Not just because Tiadrin was Rayla’s mother, but because Runaan respects Tiadrin’s prowess so much. She was the best, and every bit of Runaan’s efforts to be his best reflects his respect for her.

You don’t get to be the assassin leader unless you’re the best there is. Runaan knows that from both sides. And just like Tiadrin did with him, he does his best to teach Rayla everything she needs to stay safe and alive, so she can do her duty too, and come home safe to her family every day.

And, in the end, part of that duty had to be avenging her mentor’s mentor, her own mother, by accompanying Runaan on his mission. Her lessons were from Tiadrin, one step removed. If there was a flaw in her training, no one would trust her when it was her turn to lead the assassins, and she’s not even done training yet! Rayla understood Moonshadow honor, assassin honor. She was driven to ask Runaan to take her with him, and he could see exactly where she was coming from. Their honor was tangled up with Tiadrin’s. They couldn’t back out. They had to go to Katolis, them and everyone else Tiadrin had trained.

That’s why the binding ribbons came out. They were in a do-or-die situation, in the most literal sense.

They could not go home in failure. If they all failed, it would take out a whole line of assassin training, possibly the same one that had lasted for countless generations (okay maybe we can count them and there are like 30) and crush the Moonshadows’ spirits. And they’d literally rather die than see that happen. They were all ready to give their lives to restore Tiadrin’s honor, and their own, because without her legacy, there would be such a crater in the assassin corps that it might never recover.

Yes, this is basically my angsty “Runaan’s found family went into battle together and most of them died” headcanon again, but this time with a solid theory behind it. I’m not sorry. I love this angsty idea, it’s horrible. Do you see the cycle of trauma? I’ve got one more part to add, which may make it clearer.

Theory Part III: Assassin leaders always go serve at the Storm Spire once they successfully train their own replacement.

In this theory’s version of Why Laindrin Went To The Storm Spire, Tiadrin was always going to end up at the Storm Spire, once she became the assassin leader. That’s where the veteran assassin leader goes, see, to liaison between the dragon throne and the current Moonshadow leader. They know the assassins’ skills far better than any Skywings or dragons do, and they know the leader in charge of them, so they can give guidance or direction as needed, or simply phrase the Dragon King or Queen’s request in such language that the assassin leader knows intuitively what really needs to be done.

Yeah, Tiadrin writing Runaan mission directives. I can see it.

Tiadrin’s mentor would’ve left for the Spire when Tiadrin got promoted to leader. The person she trusted most in the world, who had trained her, left her behind, only to communicate by long distance. Moonshadow deniability, amirite--we’re not stabbing people, we’re sending tactical correspondence, yep that’s it. But Tiadrin was still surrounded by Runaan and the other young assassins, and she bonded with them all, and life was bright.

Then, the shadow came once again. Runaan was an excellent student, and she knew he was ready. Maybe she delayed, and delayed, Moonshadowing her reasons. Maybe she wanted the chance to bring life into the world, to try to balance out some of the death she had dealt. Maybe she wanted a few more years of domestic life in the Silvergrove with all her favorite elves, to bolster her heart for the years to come. Maybe her mentor at the Spire was up to shenaniganry in dragon politics and she wanted to buy them more time to lay those plans in place.

Knowing Tiadrin even the slightest bit, I will assume it was all this and more. But eventually, she couldn’t put things off any longer. She had to go fulfill her duty to the dragon throne and join the Dragonguard as the representative of the Moonshadow assassins who had bound themselves to the protection of Xadia long ago. She had to walk away from her bright life, her family, her friends, her allies, and climb up into that misty stone tower, to spend who knows how long away from everything she knew and loved.

And she did. She chose to walk away, for love of Xadia. She took her beloved husband with her, but she left the Silvergrove, Xadia’s protection, and her own daughter’s upbringing in the hands of the elf she chose to replace her. The soft boy she’d taught to stab, who would teach her baby girl to stab, too.

Because this is The Way.

I know I’ve had an angsty headcanon that assassins don’t retire. But, consider this: maybe one of them can. One of Tiadrin’s many plans could have been counting on Runaan’s extreme prowess and devotion to Rayla. If Tiadrin knew that she could return to the Silvergrove in peace and retire there with Lain once Runaan trained Rayla to take his place as the assassin leader, then she could live in the Silvergrove again for the rest of her life, and also get to see Rayla grown big and strong and become the assassin leader herself, another proud elf in a long line of honor and tradition. She might feel that was a big accomplishment, considering the dangers they all face. And it would be.

Yes, this would hinge on the fact that Runaan would have to leave the Silvergrove to replace Tiadrin at the Storm Spire, to serve as Rayla’s liaison to the dragon throne. Cycles of trauma, remember? Tiadrin can’t have all of her family back in one place, ever again. She has to love and train someone enough to put them through the life that she’s having to live, and she has to be strong enough not to let that break her. And then, she has to choose between them. She chose Runaan first, so that she could hope to choose Rayla later. She trusted him with all the future happiness of her heart. And he did his best with it.

But they didn’t quite make it, in the end, because of Viren.

I know this has been a lot of angst. I know. But there is a moonlit lining to this theory, and I think we all need to consider it. If there is a cycle of taking the assassin leader out of the Silvergrove to serve the dragon throne for ancient promise reasons, then if that ancient promise is ever rescinded or redressed in an effective way, the family won’t need to keep yeeting loved ones out of its orbit. And if assassins cease to be a necessary evil as a result, then no one will have to leave, or stab, again. At least, not for the same angsty reasons. They could stay together and never need to leave again.

It won’t be easy to break such a cycle. It might be impossible. But if anyone can manage it, it’ll be Tiadrin, and her family.

extra headcanon for this theory:

Tiadrin, packing up for the Storm Spire: One last thing, Runaan.

Runaan, stoically attentive because what are feels on the day your mentor leaves you: Yes, Tiadrin?

Tiadrin: Ethari will need to pick an apprentice to replace him, too. He should start looking now.

Runaan: Why? Only the Silvergrove’s Master Craftsman gets to pick an apprentice, and Ethari isn’t--

Tiadrin: *wink” Not yet, he’s not.

Runaan: Tiadrin, please, what have you done?

Tiadrin: I want to come back here someday, Runaan. I want to see your good work with Rayla. And I can’t do that if you flat-out refuse to leave your husband when Avizandum calls for you to replace me. So he needs to be ready to leave, too.

Runaan: I, I, I would nev-- I couldn’t--

Tiadrin: *patting his shoulder briskly as she strides out* Mmhmm, sure thing, kid. The council votes him in next Thursday. Be good while I’m gone! I want to find this place exactly the way I’m leaving it. Lain, honey, get your coat!

Lain, in the next room: Yes, Tiadrin!

Runaan, soft-eyed, to the silence in her wake: Yes, Tiadrin.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

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.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 2

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with  supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others  are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security  government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile  Picani.  After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr  Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the  prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be  too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 3323

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Crying, Depression, Casual Suicidal ideation, Depriving someone of food, Captivity, Solitary confinement, Knife, Threats of violence, Swearing, Mentions of abuse/torture, Injuries, Panic Attack, Food (Let me know if need to add anything!)

---

    The first night, Logan screamed himself hoarse well into the middle of the night. His body ached with misery, as he yelled and pulled at his restraint. His wrist was bruised and he could feel a this stream of blood dripping from where the metal had cut into his skin but he kept fighting until his body collapsed with exhaustion and he was forced into a restless sleep.

    Agony burned in his chest as the long hours dragged by in absolute silence. Being alone was a rare experience for Logan and one he adamantly avoided. While the sound of the constant chattering of strangers thoughts would probably sound nightmarish to the average person, he'd grown accustomed to the comforting presence of others' thoughts. He was used to the white noise, and though he knew it was irrational, the sudden silence growing nearly painful with every hour that passed.

    The second night, the isolation started to dig its claws into the corners of his mind. The restraint on his wrist limited his movement to only a few feet around the bed and so far, he'd spent hours staring into the empty window on the far side of the room. Anger twisted in his stomach at the thought that he was likely being watched through the one-way reflective surface and he felt like screaming at his silent observers until his voice gave out, but the previous night’s experience had already proved that effort would be futile. Expending the energy would only make him hungrier.

    All he could do was wait.

    The third day, he'd woken to find the restraint on his wrist had been released while he'd slept. He blinked, unsure of what this new revelation meant for him. Rubbing his sore wrist, he sat up to scan the quiet room. The door remained closed, and likely locked, but somehow a container of water has found its way into the room. He stepped off the bed, glancing cautiously at the one-way mirror as he approached the glass jug sitting at the base of his door. He was aware of the danger. Tampering with his water supply would be a simple way to entrap him or drug him, but his thirst quickly overrode any hesitation he had. They were his only access to resources and he knew he'd have to give in eventually or risk simply dying of dehydration. Not to mention, quite frankly, if the people in this place decided to kill him, he had little recourse in stopping them. No amount of bargaining would change that fact that he was at their mercy.

    Next to the water, he found a fresh change of clothes. The sight of fresh white hospital-like clothing brought a bitter taste to his mouth as memories of the night before came rushing back. He hadn't seen a hint of another person since the doctor had left him, taking with him the only people who might be even remotely sympathetic to his situation. He brushed his thumb over the stiff fabric picturing the faces of the two other prisoners who'd been dressed in the same sterile uniform as he now held in his hand. Still, he changed his clothes, feeling a new level of numb as he changed in front of the window.

    Numbness had settled in fully by the fourth night. The hunger left him too weak to stay focused on anything for long. The water provided for him sustained his body in only the barest sense and he could feel his willpower draining away as he spent more time curled in his bed, mind blank as he succumbed to the silence. That night, a particularly sinister breed of depression had taken root in his mind, pushing him toward the precipice of giving up. Dark, self-destructive thoughts clouded his mind as finally drifted off to sleep, making his abrupt awakening all the more jarring as he opened his eyes to find a sharp blade pressed to his throat and a shadow with glowing purple eyes looming over him.

    “Move and I'll slit your throat.”

    Pure adrenaline flooded over Logan at the familiar voice. The man who'd nearly strangled him the first night straddled his chest, silhouetted against the dark room by the eerie red light. Logan swallowed, barely breathing as he as he pressed himself backward, tilted his head away from the blade.

    “You will answer my questions.”

    A whimper escaped Logan’s lips, but he forced a small nod, hardly daring to move under the delicate pressure of the sharp blade.

    “Why's Picani interested in you?”

    “I don't kn—”

    “Find a better answer.” The man's hiss sent chills down his spine as the knife moved up Logan’s neck. “The other night, you blew me back into the wall like a goddamn ragdoll. What’s was that?”

    Logan sucked in a shallow breath as he struggled to keep his weak body breathing. “Tele—telekinesis.”

    “Do not fuck with me right n—”

    “I’m not—” Logan breathed, closing his eyes. “I can move things with my mind—”

    The blade pressed against his throat with a preciseness just short of drawing blood. “If that were true, why haven’t you blasted me again?”

    “I—I don't control it. I never learned how.” Logan blinked, surprised as the blade released a touch of pressure. He blinked, staring up at blank expression on the man's face as he continued.

    “Picani’s guard said you'd feed on me.” The man growled his disbelief as he glared down at Logan. “Explain.”

    “I don’t know what he was—"

    “Not good enough.” The man's deep voice growled above him as the blade returned to his throat. "If you don't start talking, I'll—"

    “Please—” Logan whimpered as the sharp nicked his throat and a thin line of blood dripped down his neck.  “—It's not what you think.”

    “Then explain,” The man’s eyes flashed dangerously as he continued but the pressure of the blade eased slightly. “before I start to get impatient.”

    Logan swallowed, feeling a wet streak trail down his face. “Others’ thoughts—I hear them.”

    “Are you telling me you feed on my thoughts?”  

    “No—“ Logan whispered as tears flowed freely down his face. “Please, I don’t know how it works but I can’t—It doesn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn't hurt anyone. Please—”

    Logan clenched his eyes shut, stifling a terrified whimper as the blade moved up his neck. His heart pounded in his chest until the blade lifted slightly from his throat and a wet sob escaped his throat. He sucked in a breath as the man leaned back, knife still pointed in Logan's direction as he continued in a hushed tone.

    “Are you listening to my thoughts right now?”

    “N—no,” Logan breathed, avoiding the man's eyes. “I'm too weak. I can’t—I can’t do anything.”

    The man was quiet for a long moment, eyes glinting in the red light as he stared at Logan. “What'd he do to you?”

    “Who?”

    “Picani,” The man's voice softened slightly. “The doctor, I mean. What's he done to you?”

    “I—I’ve been kept alone and—” Logan bit his lip, uncertain about sharing the true depths of his weakness. “—and I haven’t eaten. Anything that fuels my power, he's taken it from me. I can't—I can't hurt you."

    The silence hung in the air for a long, tense moment before the man spoke again, knife still inches from Logan's throat.

    “Close your eyes.”

    A chill crept up Logan’s spine at the seriousness in the man's voice. “Please, don't—”

    “Don’t argue.”

    Logan swallowed the lump in his throat as the glisten of the blade pointed at him inches from his face. Stilled trembling and tense, he let his eyes flutter closed.

    “Move your hands where I can see them.”

    “I'm already blind—”

    “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

    “Fine.” Logan muttered as he rested his head back on the pillow, lifting his hands in apparent surrender. After a moment, he could feel the bed shift as the man climbed off the bed in absolute silence. Logan strained his ears, but he was unable to trace the man’s careful movements after he stepped onto the flow. He slowed his breathing and forced himself to remain still, unsure of how the man would react to even the smallest twitch.

    “If Picani finds out I have a knife because you rat me out, I will not hesitate to kill you with my bare hands.”

    Logan bit his lip, body shaking as he gave a stiff nod. “U-understood.”

    “Telling him won’t protect you.” The man continued gruffly. “It will only put me in danger.”

    “I won't tell him.” Logan swallowed. “You have my word.”

    “Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

    A bitter from twitched at the corner of Logan’s lip. “The man dropped you back in here in the middle of the night, while I was weak and defenseless, knowing full well that you'd already made one attempt on my life. I'm not so much of a fool to believe him my ally.”

    “Picani was hedging his bets that you'd appeal to my good will.”

    Logan let out a huff, dropping his head to his chest. “Well, it appears he made a miscalculation.”

    “Perhaps.” Virgil sighed quietly after a moment. “Or perhaps not. You can have this, but I want you to give me back the wrapper, so I can hide it later.”

    A small object struck Logan’s chest, causing him to flinch back with a sharp breath. His muscles tensed as his eyes cautiously fluttered open to reveal the ominous sight of the stranger’s eyes glinting at him through the darkness. Slowly, he sat upright, maintaining eye contact as he turned his head down to stare at the protein bar in his lap.

   “Don't make a mess.”

   Glancing cautiously up at the other man’s stiff form, Logan leaned forward to tear at the wrapper. He wasn’t sure what had brought about the sudden change of heart, but he wasn’t about to waste his first chance for food in three days. His hands shook as he attempted to tear into the difficult piece of plastic, growing  desperate as the man above him tensed.

   “Hey, be careful!” The man held up a hand, stopping as Logan flinched at his volume.  He paused, giving Logan a quick sympathetic look before edging closer. “Listen, hand it over for a second.”

   Logan hesitated, gripping the bar tightly as if his life depended on it.

   “Listen, dude. It's all yours, I swear.” The man whispered with a wary smile, holding up his friends as he dropped down on the side of the bed. His movements were slow, as if he was suddenly deliberately making an attempt to be non-threatening. “Just let me open it for you so you don’t make a mess. I don’t want to get backlash for helping you out. Okay?”

   “Okay.” Logan whispered after a moment of tense silence, keeping his head bowed from the man's gaze as the man took the bar from his hands. “Thank y—”

   “Don't thank me.” The man cut him off sternly. He made quick work of tearing the wrapper open before offering it back to Logan. “What's your name?”

   “Logan.”

   “Okay, Logan. Mine's Virgil.”

   The man whisper filled the air as he waited patiently for Logan to take the bar from the wrapper. Logan took a quick bite, watching the man in his periphery as he chewed the small offering of food slowly. His body ached for him to finish faster, but he didn't want to be caught off guard if the man suddenly changed his mind.

   “Listen, I'm sorry.” Virgil muttered as Logan took another bite. “I know I must have scared the shit out of you just now.”

   Logan blinked up in mild surprise at the man's change in tone, still wary of the man's anger as he swallowed his first bite.

   “You were being cautious.”

   “That doesn’t suddenly make any of this shit okay,” Virgil muttered as he crumpled the wrapper into his pocket and stared at his lap. “The way I reacted is straight fucked, but you got to know that Picani only keep his most dangerous subjects this deep into the labs. You're not the first piece of fresh meat Picani’s dropped in my bunk—And when I heard the guards talking about you feeding on me, I panicked.”

   “I assume the doctor has given you plenty of reason to be wary of newcomers.” Logan whispered, still slightly unnerved by the man's choice of words. “H-how long have you been here?”

   “Long enough that I stopped counting the days.”

   Virgil absently ran his fingers through his hair as Logan took in the sight of the man for the first time. His white attire seemed dirtier than before, especially next to the stark white color of Logan’s matching attire. Logan’s eyes tipped up to the man's face. Fresh bruises covered his face and arms and large pieces of gauze appeared to have been haphazardly applied to his head and around his elbows in a poor attempt at first aid for whatever injuries he sustained over the last few days.

   "W-where did they take y—”

   “Don’t ask.” Virgil interrupted abruptly, glancing at the fearful look in Logan’s eyes as he cut him off. He paused, briefly considering the harshness his words before looking up at Logan. “You'll find out soon enough and trust me, you'll wish you never found out.”

   “The doctor—He hurts you because of your powers.” Logan observed, curling his knees to his chest as Virgil’s dark gaze turned back to him. “Doesn't he?”

   Virgil blinked up at him. "How did you—"

   "I saw you starting to turn invisible before the doctor walked in on us." Logan bit his lip, looking shyly at his lap. "Just after I blew you back into the wall."

   "Huh, well, its not invisibility." Virgil huffed, dropping his shoulders as he pointed up at the red lights. "I can manipulate light. It's the reason for all of those."

   "What?" Logan furrowed his brow, glancing at the strange lights.

   "I can't shift red light as easily as the rest of the spectrum." Virgil muttered bitterly. "They put these in here to make sure that Picani always knows where I'm at."

   "And he hurts you because of these abilities?"

   "He runs tests." Virgil blinked, looking up a the fear Logan was barely concealing behind his eyes. “Picani’s a bastard and this—” Virgil muttered, looking disgusted as he stared at his bandages before glancing over at Logan. “—is nothing. He's done much worse to me when he gets worked up. He says its about figuring out how I do it, but if you ask me, he just gets off on hearing me scream.”

   Logan's skin tingled with fear and he could feel tears growing in his eyes as he swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “I felt like that might be the case.”

   “He owns us. We’re not even people to him.” Virgil’s words fel from his lips absently as he rambled. “And when Picani gets a new subject, he's miserable. He a whole new level of sadism and miser—Shit.”

   Virgil paused as Logan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking from the overwhelming series of events from the last few nights.

   “Hey, don't panic.” Virgil jolted upright, turning to rest his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “Wait—No, no, just breathe with me. Don't panic.”

   Logan sucked in a ragged breath as Virgil rested a hand on his chest, applying a gentle pressure to help ground him. His throat ached as he tried to suppress another sob and Virgil curled an arm around his shoulder.

   “You are going to get through this, Logan.” Virgil hushed him urgently. “God. I'll help you but you need to stop. You can't lose it now.”

   “I—I’m sorry.” Logan felt himself tugging on his hair as he whispered between ragged breaths. " I'm s-s-sorr—"

   “It's okay.” Virgil whispered insistently, tightening his grip on Logan’s shoulders. “You're going to be okay. Just get your breathing under control.”

   Logan nodded, body aching as he suppressed the overwhelming panic seizing his muscles. Slowly, through Virgil’s gentle touches and kind words his breathing returned to normal and his muscles started to relax.

   “There you go.” Virgil let out a sigh, leaning back. "You did okay."

   “I'm sorry.” Logan whispered between pained breaths. “I'm being irrational—”

   “Don’t do that to yourself. Your reaction is the only thing that makes sense in this godforsaken place,” Virgil’s eyes tipped sympathetically towards Logan in the dark, flashing with the knowledge of their grim reality. “but you can’t afford to be emotional here. You'll get hurt if you do this around the wrong people.”

   Logan paused, feeling his breathing slow a bit at the kind look in Virgil’s glowing purple eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

   “I mean it. You can't react like that with the doctor.” Virgil whispered, roughly wiping away the streaks of tears off his cheeks. “The doctor will exploit every fear you show him. You have to be stronger than him.”

   “O-okay.” Logan whispered, still trembling as Virgil talked him through his panic.

   “Find a place in your head that you can disappear to when you’re in his hands.” Virgil stated with a pitiful smile as he stared at Logan’s distant stare. “Whatever you do, don’t show him what you’re feeling.”

   “I will—um, thank you for the advice.”

   “It's nothing.” Virgil muttered quietly. “Consider it an apology for waking you up with a shiv to you throat. Alright?”

   Logan sucked on his lip, curling his knees to his chest. “It's fine. I realize now why you acted in such a manner.”

   "It's not fine, but whatever." Virgil shrugged as his lip twitched with guilt. “but either way, you look like shit and I think you should get some rest.”

   “I'm not sure if I’ll be able to sleep at this point.”

   “You need to try. You need whatever energy you can get to get through tomorrow.”

   Logan blinked up at the serious tone in Virgil’s voice as he slid up on the bed and faced the door.

   “I'll keep an eye out and wake you before Picani and his goons show up. Okay?”

   “S-sure.” Logan whispered, chilled by the seriousness in Virgil’s voice.

   “You can trust me on this, Logan.” Virgil paused raising an eyebrow at Logan. “There’s not much I can do to protect you, but at the very least, I won’t let Picani catch you by surprise.”

   Logan let out a breath as Virgil patted the bed next to him. Stiffly, Logan slid over to him and slipped underneath the thin blanket. Uneasily, he rested down on the pillow next to where the Virgil perched, staring at the door. “Thank you, Virgl. I—I know you don't have to help me.”

   “I want to.” Virgil muttered under his breath almost to himself. His voice was so quiet Logan nearly didn’t catch the end of his statement. “I never meant for anybody to get hurt.”

   Logan blinked, considering Virgil’s words as a deep exhaustion crept over him. He leaned his head back on the pillow, staring up at the distant look in Virgil’s eyes as he stared at the closed door of their cell. He sighed. Falling asleep next to the stranger who'd had a knife to his throat only minutes seemed like an impossible feat but only a few short minutes had passed before the exhaustion began to outweigh his anxiety. He could feel his eyelids dropping even as his heart fluttered with fear of the man next to him. This had to be a mistake and Logan was well aware of that fact. Yet, as his mind drifted off to sleep, he found himself easing to sleep with the madman with the knife next to him anyway.

---

Author’s Note: That’s it for now, but hopefully it won’t be too much longer before we get to here more about these poor boys. Thanks for reading, and again, if you want to be on the taglist, all you have to do is let me know!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

[vergess]

i agree with your points on the shakespeare post but i regret to inform you that i watched one of my friends descend into pure tiktok hell during the pandemic and they have consumed nothing else since late 2020. i know this because i have tried to have conversations with them about other stuff and it's like talking to a wall. they get everything from there. diy ideas, news, politics, dating standards, everything. i know this because whenever we talk about anything (and i do mean Any conversation we have) they will either go "oh i saw a tiktok about that" or divert the conversation to a completely different topic to discuss a tiktok they saw while scrolling. While We Were Talking. it is with a heavy heart that i confirm these people Do exist

And before 2020 they just never experienced any type of media whatsoever????

A person who has only experienced tiktok would necessarily have to be, like, five years old at best.

Yes, it's intensely frustrating when your friends interests diverge abruptly from your own, but if they aren't willing to meet you half way (and you *are* inviting them to experience the media you love alongside you, right? You've checked that your friend isn't obsessing over tiktok because anything else is bother harder to access and harder to engage with in a time if unfathomable stress?) then they're not a very good friend. Tell them that. See if they shape up. If they don't, then get new friends who will engage with your interests, and downgrade these ones to polite acquaintances you treat with more respect than to go to a strangers inbox and lambast them anonymously.

You are not a better person than them just because you have different interests, I promise you.

Unless they're actively harming themselves or others as part of their devotion to tiktok, it does not have moral weight.

And it certainly does not have so much weight as to render any other interests they might have null and void, which is the point those goddamn "read some Shakespeare/Greek tragedies/Modernist French film/Real Music, you brainless idiot" posts are trying to make.

The fact that your reflex reaction to one of those posts was to defend it by deriding the human complexity of your 'friend' does not reflect well on you.

The fact that you describe your friend as a 'wall' without considering WHY tiktok has 'taken over' their life (hint: algorithmic feeds of short content are easier when you're already burnt out from living and the people around you have decided you're worth less to them because of the way burnout limits your emotional and intellectual capabilities).

You want your friend to be engaged by your interests, put in the effort. Have a movie night, whether in person or on a phone call with synced streams, and offer them your interests the way tiktok offers theirs.

Reach the fuck out, or go the fuck away, instead of whining about how your 'friend' has rotted away. I assure you, people pick up on that condescending expectation.