#this post started weird but normal enough in my ability to express myself but then i had a wave of fatigue and now its just nonsense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grimmwolf · 1 year ago

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Dumping / Journaling / Ranting / Updates / Venting - Basically the whole lot XD ( May be updated )

Idk what to post anymore. I haven’t had any shifts cuz I’m an animal or whatever basically every single second of my life, or I’m depressed and I can’t express my animality how I want to, or I can’t tell the difference between any of them because I identify as all animals and whatever else, I can’t or have become tired of trying to pinpoint and label all of them. All I do is lay down most of the day because my back aches so bad that I can’t even sit normally, so I am unable to express myself physically even less nowadays. I’ve been so depressed as well that I don’t talk much anymore nowadays, I’ve lost the ability to socialize, I don’t know how to connect with anyone anymore, or I feel like I can’t because I feel so different from literally everyone and no one can truly understand me, even if I try to explain things, even if someone tells me they understand. I know they don’t. I feel so alone, like no one likes me, especially since I’m so strict with my dni rules. There’s little to no one left who I follow ( alterhumans ) because of it, which makes me feel even more alone, but at least I’m placing and keeping my boundaries, that’s gotta count for something, right? And me identifying as Gaia or Mother Nature or whatever doesn’t make my situation any better. What normal alterhuman identities as an actual god? The creator of all life? I don’t even know if anyone believes me, so it makes me keep to myself about it. I do believe it though, I feel it, isn’t that proof enough? I feel the pain of the Earth, the Universe, how can I prove that? By continuing to be depressed? I guess that’s doable. I’m sorry to all I’ve not spoken to in a while. I guess I’m isolating myself for my own comfort, and because I’ve been so depressed lately. It’s nothing personal, I swear. I want to reconnect, I just don’t know how, or if I can keep it up. I don’t like texting anymore, I want an in person connection. I’ve lost all my irl friends, I’ve been friendless for a few months now. It’s not good for me, to say the least.

And I’m too shy, bashful, introverted, antisocial, socially anxious, awkward, depressed, afraid, afraid of rejection and finding someone who’s not good for me and then have to start all over again. I don’t know how to human anymore, I even had a normal childhood. How can I be so bad at this? How can I be so different from literally everyone else? I can’t even be a normal alterhuman, I’m a freak even in this community. Everyone else has one or a few, or even a whole clade of theriotypes. I don’t even call them theriotypes. I see myself as all animals and see them as my children, which is a bit controversial, I would think, seeing as though therians see themselves as animals. Basically calling everyone my children would just be weird, or unbelievable, right? Well, I don’t consider therians to be my children, for the record, but that’s the interpretation that others would get from this identity of mine, I would think. I wanted to be one of those alterhumans who posts everyday or often enough that no one thinks I’ve left the community, but I pretty much have. I wanted to write essays, and journals, and updates about me and my identities. But I just can’t get myself to believe that anyone even believes or cares the slightest bit about any of that. Or I’m too depressed and tired to write anything anymore. I feel like I’m more of a prick or a black sheep in this community because of my beliefs and identities and morals and such. What am I even supposed to say anymore? How do I explain myself to others? I’m terrible at explaining things. Even if I tried, still no one would fully understand.

I’ll try to explain something right now, I guess. When it comes to how I see myself, I feel like I’m everything, and everyone. Yet, nothing and no one at the same time. Yet, not at the same time, yet, all at once, and neither, and both, and… I can’t even understand it myself. I feel like I am infinite, yet, finite. I am life, I am death. Light, dark. Good, bad. Pure, evil. Love, hate. At peace, angry. Calm, anxious. Beautiful, ugly. Happy, sad. Left, right. Ocean, land. Water, air. Fire, ice. Stone, snow. Nature, humanity. All animals, no animals. All humans, no humans. Man, woman. Both, neither. All life, no life. All death, no death. Eternity, not eternity. Eternal, non-eternal. All time, no time. Existence, non-existence. Existing, not existing. Real, unreal. God, not god. Goddess, not goddess. Supernatural, natural. Mystical, non-mystical. Mythical, non-mythical. Mythological, non-mythological. Divine, infernal. Celestial, cosmical. I am all opposites, and similarities, and everything in between, and everything surrounding. Yet, neither opposites, nor similarities, nor anything in between, nor everything surrounding. At the same time, yet not at the same time. It feels like all a blur in my head, a fog, a cloud. Yet, clear. It feels like wires tangled and knotted in my mind. Yet, untangled and unknotted. It feels like my mind is just a cave, and the only hole of an exit is blocked off by one singular ginormous boulder, and a man is trying to get free by going at the rock with a chainsaw, never making any progress. Yet, the cave is empty, and the way is open, boulder pushed to the side, or never existed in the first place. It is all so confusing and complicated and complex. Yet so simple, and easy, and basic. This is how I can explain what I feel every single second of my existence. I don’t l know how to live like this, with myself. I don’t know how I feel like this, or why. Sometimes I feel like I’m God and sometimes I feel like he’s me. Why do I feel like this, like it’s true? Is it true? Am I delusional? Probably both. Probably neither.

I am me, yet I am you, yet I am everyone, yet I am everything, yet I am no one, yet I am nothing. I am, and I’m not. The only other way I can explain this is with these three dots lol.

…

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chewinglass · 1 year ago

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I want my data to be seeds I can spread and plant anywhere. All of my plans and ideas, I surely won’t be the person materializing all of them, there are too many

This blogpost will be a series of ideas, I have no plans or wails or rants. Just passing thoughts. It’s hard to speak about anything unprompted, usually extreme emotional turmoil prompts my writing. More recently it has been moments of bliss and beauty, one’s so shocking and strange yet totally normal in my life. My life is so wonderful, and also everything else. It’s all. Overwhelming, horrible, nauseating, falling apart. And yet it still is wonderful.

It’s hard to be a human. I masturbate too much, I am weirded out by most social situations. Words muddle our ability to express the fact that we see the same shape and distract us by dividing us. We are all blind men arguing over an elephant. I thought I had solutions to problems. THE solution to THE problem. I have had many. Then they materialize and something is missing. Maybe it’s me. And then I build things to help me and I guess maybe I’m aiming blind. I have no fucking clue how to be a human let alone an adult. I don’t know how to feel anything. I don’t know how to write or think or dance or cry or love or be loved.

I’m just kidding. Those are just words. I was touching a part of the elephant but I’ll never be able to capture it whole. Not even if I capture all of the data.

I’m building for a future that feels so far away but it wouldn’t be surprising if others think it’s incredibly obvious and important or if no one else is building this because it feels too far away or impossible. I can never tell if I’m an idiot or a genius. I occupy the lower left quadrant of the unholy superposition, intelligent enough to criticize and identify all flaws but not intelligent enough to solve them all or take all lunges at once. Not Super enough. I want to build a system that will be able to do this for me one day.

Software development feels so behind. It’s so hard to do anything. There are too many rules and docs and errors and bugs and shifty documentation. It becomes easy only after u encounter the same error a million times or have used a tool for a while. But even then, sometimes u need to fork the library and fix shit yourself.

I’m not sure where I want to start development of the project because I’m still becoming technically acclimated to all of the new technology. I tell myself it would be faster to write scrapers and just build the real thing than upload custom stuff into my designs. Wait. Fuck. Duh… I can just copy and paste into gpt lmao I don’t need to type json out by hand. I can convert json to csv, upload to google sheets, use figma and google sheets plugin, and then send a post request in json to my weird temp frontend db. Ok back to work

All this right now is to help me be better with time. I feel like I am constantly falling behind, it sucks. I just wanna get rid of that feeling, the feeling of forgetting something or missing something. Idk. Anyway, back to work xoxo

#I just hate that the add tags button is white my app is dark mode I hate it

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flockofdoves · 5 years ago

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sometimes i’m jealous of my mom for being more in touch with paranormal stuff than me (like effortlessly astral projecting without realizing thats what she was even doing while i’ve only ever had partial out of body experiences but get freaked out from the vibrations and all the sounds around me i’m exposed to and snap back in, or how she repeatedly hashad experiences where she feels shes awoken and is still in her room in the middle of the night and people she knows are next to her only to discover they passed away that night, or has dreams where some of those people will visit her for a while afterwards and tell her things that she later has confirmed irl that she couldnt have known)

but also honestly with how constant the feeling of being watched has been throughout my life without any real proof one way or the other of any of that, and with how much dwelling on that makes my intrusive thoughts flare up (that i then worry spirits or something could mind read and judge me for lol) maybe thats for the best.

the times in my life i’ve felt most in tune with this type of stuff ive been at my most comfortable and manageable with that paranoia (and was at the core of that, less stressed and distracted by extenuating circumstances). that thought is a bit comforting. i think many ways of thinking pathologized as neurodivergencies like ocd/schizo spectrum stuff/autism/adhd can make it easier to connect with this type of stuff but also much easier to have that connection muddled to something entirely off the mark by external factors and stressors. so even if i dont expect the same of everyone the idea that even if i’m not doing great with that right now that one day i could have a healthier connection with this type of stuff that has meant so much to me throughout parts of my life is helpful for me, i don’t have to resent my own self for having trouble with this stuff sometimes.

kinda went on a tangent there for a sec that wasnt very intelligible lol but also i think theres something to be said for when i was in high school and constantly was trying to astral project and yet entirely freaked out when i actually got there because i felt so exposed and vulnerable being half way out of my body and hearing/seeing all the things i didnt quite have a grasp on around my room (while my physical eyes were closed and covered) like i was just seeing astral stuff as an opportunity for escapism when i was doing badly which i dont think i should have been looking for as a goal there. i think it probably takes a lot of willingness that i wasnt in the space for or could benefit from. i’m not wording this well. i’m tired

also its just a whole nother factor in all this that my dads dead now. mixing up wanting and not wanting to communicate with spirits and all my messy emotions about his death makes it even harder to not have my brain totally wig out when i dwell on this type of stuff the past almost 2 years

#cpost #this post started weird but normal enough in my ability to express myself but then i had a wave of fatigue and now its just nonsense #that goes off on unintelligible half finished tangents. but i wrote it so long so i dont wanna just delete it after venting it all so.#posts that out you as a cr*zy person #surveillance -#death -

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day.

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.”

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are.

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

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another-stark-sub · 3 years ago

Text

“Are you in love with him?” - Tony Stark Imagine

Notes: I wrote and editted this in two hours instead of going over my notes. Was gonna be spicy fluffy but it just turned into fluffy, and one of the lines/paragraphs (smth like that i dont remember how long that segment was) is based on/inspired by a fanfic on ao3 I bookmarked. I think it’s debt-free, but I could be wrong. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I’m so sorry im not on here more oftennnnn

- - -

“Of course I am. He’s Tony Stark.” You sighed, a weight finally lifted off your chest. “Who isn’t in love with him?”

Bruce blinked a few times, the confusion evident on his face. “Then, why don’t you tell him?”

You scoffed. These geniuses think they know everything, but they couldn’t see what was glaringly obvious to you. “He’s Tony Stark.”

The perplexed expression didn’t disappear from your friend’s expression. So, you explained further, “It’s already a privilege, beyond that really, to be talking to you, to any Avenger. To work with any of you is an honor, and to be friends with you” -you laughed- “it shouldn’t even be possible for someone like me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re amazing, too.”

You tried to find any tick, any clue that he was lying. But Bruce seemed to really believe this. “I know I’m amazing.” You shrugged. “I’m great. I love and I care deeply, and I have a stable job. I have a place for myself, and I take care of myself.” You clicked your tongue. “However, you all, all you Avengers… Forget out of my league, more like off planet.

“And Tony? He said it himself. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Add superhero, figurehead, public figure, ex-CEO, and savior of the universe. Bruce, I have confidence in myself, but Tony is something else entirely. No one is worthy of him or his affections unless they’re a god or another Avenger.”

It was hard to keep up with the statistical analysis you were trying to run. The literal one on your hologram and the one keeping your view of Tony in check. So, defeated, you sighed and leaned back in your chair.

Bruce closed his own work and stood across the lab bench. “Weirdly enough, I’m sure none of us Avengers think that way.” After a few taps of his pen against his palm, he added, “Aren’t there fans making posts about you, too? Tony showed me the, uh, Instagram videos.”

You laughed. “Fan edits don’t make an Avenger. Saving the world does.”

He shrugged. “You help us save the world.”

“From inside Avengers Tower on a computer.” You took a deep breath. “Look, Bruce, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But, I’m not telling him.” You shrugged and brought your statistical analysis back up.

You knew your own worth. You were worthy of an amazing partner and person. Tony Stark, though, was easy beyond that. You had accepted it soon after you realized your own feelings, and while they haven’t dwindled, you knew it was for the best.

~ - ~

Tony had never resorted to this before. It was never a question of his ability to code. In the past, it was because he didn’t need a program or an AI to do it for him. He could always tell if someone was into him. He knew when Pepper was into him. The moment Rhodey gazed at him back in their MIT days. Every single reporter and heiress and model he slept with, he knew when their thoughts turned sexual or romantic.

You, though. With you, he couldn’t fucking tell, and he knew it was because of his own feelings. Tony felt intensely for people before. Pepper, Rhodey, that one reporter all those years ago. However, with you, it wasn’t just that fluttery feeling in his gut or the immediate smile he can’t seem to stop when he sees you. It was the comfort he felt when he heard your voice or the softness he could feel in his heart when he saw a picture of you.

It was like his entire life was full of panic, never resting, never stopping. But when you entered his life with a gentle smile and a quick wit, it felt like he could finally breathe.

It was addicting.

“Sir, I have the calculations.”

“Hit me.”

“Speech diagnostics of you and of Ms. (Y/l/n) are similar. Whenever you speak of her, 79.4% is positive and 18.8% is neutral. Ms. (Y/l/n) has 78.9% positive and 17.2% neutral dialogue regarding you. When she speaks of you, her heartrate increases by 4.6%, and similarly, yours increases by 4.1%. When speaking to each other, heartrate initially increases by 7%.”

Tony nodded. “How does this compare to other Avengers? I gush about Banner like a teenager.”

“Well, sir, while you and Ms. (Y/l/n) have high positive dialogue about other Avengers, all of them have at least a 10% decrease compared to each other. And heartrate varies depending on the topic of conversation.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Am I excluding all non-super friends? Include any agents, co-workers. Pep isn’t an Avenger after all.”

Friday took two seconds and responded. “You and Ms. (Y/l/n) have a significant difference in speech diagnostics when talking about or to each other compared to any other Avenger, co-worker, and friend.”

When Tony remained quiet, Friday added, “Do you want me to repeat the results?”

“You don’t need to, Friday.”

“But you’re not doing anything with the new information. Would you like me to save these findings?”

“Friday,” Tony warned.

There was silence as the love-wrecked scientist pressed his fist between his brows. Data and cold hard facts said yes, but was it right?

“Sir?”

“Yes, Fri?”

“Would you like me to play examples for you?”

He blinked. “Examples?”

“Yes. Of you and her talking about each other positively.”

It was an invasion of privacy. Tony shouldn’t.

“Play examples.”

Before his rational mind could tell Friday no.

“Are you in love with him?”

Tony’s eyes widened. This was too private. It might not even be about him.”Friday-”

“Of course I am.”

“-stop playback.”

“He’s Tony Sta-”

“Playback stopped.”

Tony scrambled. “What? No, wait, go back. Play it.” Screw rational. You knew he was a narcissist. You wouldn’t expect him to hear that and stop.

“He’s Tony Stark. Who isn’t in love with him?”

“Then, why don’t you tell him?”

“... He’s Tony Stark.”

Tony started to fiddle with something on his desk. “What does that mean?”

Friday answered, “Dr. Banner asked her if she loved you, and she said yes. This means that she’s in love with you.”

Why did he program Friday like this? “I know that. I mean, those two lines. Why does me being Tony Stark stop her from saying something?” Was it the attention? Did you want some sort of normal life away from cameras and international gossip? Maybe it was the Avenging. Having a partner who was always out risking death wasn’t ideal.

Sure, you could be in love with him. But you couldn’t be with him.

“Maybe you should ask her.”

There were celebrities who were able to live normal lives. Some paid to have prosthetics for going outside of moved to a remote country to get out of the spotlight. He thrived off attention, but he could give that up. Avenging, he couldn’t give that up, but maybe he could cut back. Take a mission a month instead of one a week. Or maybe take more digital missions. He wasn’t just Iron Man after all. He was a genius, could hack into the Pentagon if he really wanted to.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I could talk to her.”

~ - ~

The moment you put your bag down on your lab table, Tony said, “You’re gonna be mad.”

You narrowed your brows. “What did you do?” You pressed your palm to your chest. “Oh my god, Peter overwrote my data, didn’t he? Ugh, I know he said he’s great at managing holograms, but really, Tone, you should’ve given him a tutorial before giving him access.” You brought up your holograms to check your data and analysis.

“That’s not it.” Tony stood next to you as you looked through your files. “I did something that invaded your privacy.”

You tilted your head. Closing the holograms, you took a deep breath and slowly asked, “How?”

Tony flashed an embarrassed grin before sighing. “You’re gonna be shocked, too, so prepare yourself.”

You did not know where this was going at all. What horrible thing could Tony have done? Steeling yourself, you took a deep breath and nodded at him to continue.

Tony cleared his throat. “Usually, I can tell when someone has feelings for me. People are obvious about it, but you? You aren’t. So, I had Friday do some analysis on our speech patterns. Me, being in love with you, was one of my controls. You and your dialogue regarding me was the main variable.

“Long story short, I accessed some audio of you and Bruce talking, and you said that you loved me but could never tell me.” He glanced at you. “So that’s why I need to apologize.”

Your expression didn’t change. No, that wasn’t it. You, at first, looked confused. Now, there was just nothing. No expression. No wrinkled brow in anger of flushed cheeks in embarrassment. Nothing.

Tony blinked. “You can shout at me now. If you were confused about when to shout at me.”

You licked your lips before taking a deep breath. “Ok, that was a lot.” You pursed your lips then opened it. But, you couldn’t really think of anything to say. You didn’t even know how to feel. “So you know that I” -you pointed at yourself and then at him- “and that I didn’t wanna tell you.” You shook your head. “Wait, do you know why I didn’t want to tell you?”

A broken scoff left Tony’s lips. “Yeah. I’m a mess.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Wait, you’re a mess? That’s why you think I don’t want to tell you?”

“Among other reasons?”

Other reasons?

You crossed your arms. “Ok, what other reasons?”

Tony looked offended. Still, he listed, “I’m surrounded by cameras, and everyone wants some privacy. Can’t get it if you’re with me. Then, there’s the Iron Man of it all. I went into a wormhole with a nuke. That was also all over the news. Then, there’s the whole daddy issues thing. I’m working on it, but it takes a while-”

He rambled on and on, listing reason after reason, and with each one, you felt tears well up in your eyes. It was a weird mix of heartbreaking, confusing, and enraging. The emotions built up slowly with each word that left his mouth, overwhelming you to the point that you couldn’t even say how it happened.

But, as Tony paced and talked so horribly about himself, you somehow ended up in front of him with your hands on his cheeks.

You only realized it when Tony stopped talking and when his breath touched your lips. “What?” he asked.

You didn’t answer. You kissed him instead.

It was a hard press of your lips against his. It was short, and it wasn’t much.

But by the way Tony gripped the back of your neck and pulled you back for another kiss, you’d think it was his first kiss. You knew it wasn’t. Not just because you knew he had kissed all sorts of people before you, but because he somehow knew how to make you gasp and melt into him.

While one hand kept you steady, the other trailed down your back and pulled you closer to him. His lips moved fluidly against yours, pushing and pulling, and everytime he moved back, you chased his lips to continue the kiss, because the softness, the passion, the fact it was finally happening, was all too good. You didn’t want it to stop.

Your hands started to move. For someone so rich, his t-shirt was rough when you twisted it between your fingers and pulled it to you. Slowly, you trailed your fingers along the side of his neck. You rubbed your thumb along his pulse point, a reminder that this was indeed real. You were kissing Tony Stark, and- He was pulling away again.

Desperate, you leaned forward, reached around to hold onto his shoulder, and kissed the side of his neck.

He let out a breathy laugh, and before you could suck on his skin, his stubble scratched your cheek.

You looked up at him and giggled when his nose bumped into yours. When your giggles turned into a smile, he kissed you again, a soft and short kiss, before leaning his forehead against yours.

His thumbs rubbed circles into your waist as you lightly scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t say anything. In fact, he seemed busy gazing at you.

“Speechless, Stark?” you teased.

He laughed. For a few seconds, he just gazed at you, seeming to prove your point. Tony’s hand began to wander, from stroking your cheek to pushing back your hair. “More confused.”

Remembering why you interrupted him, you brought your hands to his cheeks again and held him there so he couldn’t look away from you. “You are amazing, Tony. That’s the reason I didn’t want to tell you.” You shrugged. “You’re too good for me.”

His fidgeting stopped. “Well, that’s not true.”

“Tony, you’re an Avenger.”

“Technically, you are also an Avenger.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Who can’t cook scrambled eggs.”

“You literally saved the universe.”

“After producing weapons of mass destruction for decades.”

You glared at him.

He glared back. Then, he fought back. “I don’t plan on retiring.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“I have severe PTSD, anxiety, maybe ADHD, all mixed with trauma galore.”

“And I will learn to help you.”

“I couldn’t give you a normal life.”

“I’d rather have you anyway.”

He opened his mouth, but you instead told him, “I’d rather have you than anything. As long as, well, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Tony shook his head with a smile. “Cause, I’d rather have you for, well, how does til you get tired of me sound?”

You laughed. “Won’t happen. But, sure.” You kissed him again.You would’ve kept going, but there was something to settle first. “By the way, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Friday recording right now?”

“Friday records everything. It’s in the contract.”

Friday added, “I record everything that happens in the tower.”

“Ok.” You could work with that. “I’ll forgive you for the invasion of privacy.”

Tony beamed, and you couldn’t help your own smile when he did. Still, you continued, “On one condition.” Your own smile turned devious. “I want evidence that Star Spangled Banner took my ice cream.”

Tony burst out laughing. He kissed you again, a deep kiss, and when he was done, he mumbled, “God, I love you,” against your lips.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark oneshot #tony stark #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #mcu oneshot #tony stark fluff #im so sorry im not on here oftennnnnnnnnnnn #dentla schools too busy and i dont wike it #thats not true i do like it its just busy and stressful and doesnt give me time to write #and smut takes me longer to write than fluff #so i can only write fluff rnnnnnn #anyway i miss you all #love you all #hope the universe treats you welllll

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verymuchimmortalcat · 4 years ago

Text

Maribat March Day 4: Internet Friends

ao3

@maribatmarch-2k21

Marinette looked up from her phone as she heard a notification go off on her laptop. She had just finished posting the pictures from the photo shoot for her first official line. After years of making items for mainly Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, she had released her first line under the pseudonym of MDC at the age of 17, a year after Hawkmoth’s defeat. One message from Arrow Girl, it was a message from Cissie, which given that she had just released a new line wasn’t that surprising it just meant that Cissie had stayed up past midnight again. It should be around 3 am for her right now. Opening the message, she laughs.

Arrow Girl: HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW MDC LINE, M????????

ITS SOOO PRETTY

WHO AM I KIDDING YOU LIVE IN PARIS AND WANNA BE A DESIGNER YOU’VE DEFINITELY SEEN IT ALREADY

So, yeah Cissie didn’t know she was MDC and sue her, Marinette found it funny how Cissie ranted about her designs to her. It’s not like Cissie didn’t laugh when Marinette obsessed over the costumes on TV and the people wearing them.

Designs&Coffee: Ya, I did

Which one’s your favourite piece?

Arrow Girl: The second one

It’s a master piece

Designs&Coffee: I love that one the most too!!!!!

That was true, the only thing Cissie didn’t know was that she designed that piece.

“Marinette, Adrien’s here,” her mother called suddenly.

“Coming Maman,” she replied.

Designs&Coffee: I’ve got to go, my mom’s calling

Talk later. You should sleep.

Arrow Girl: Says the girl with Coffee in her username

Bye.

Closing her laptop, Marinette headed downstairs, grabbing the Black Cat miraculous on her way. Adrien visited from London once a month but he had left behind his miraculous saying that he’d rather put it all behind with everything his father did. But both him and Plagg missed each other so Plagg came along on their monthly visits. Marinette still wore her earrings and Tikki went with her everywhere but she was more of a pocket best friend at this point then a pocket goddess who gave her the ability to become a superhero. Both Cat Noir and Ladybug had retired after Hawkmoth, they dealt with a miraculous threat and if another arose, they’d be there to help, but for right now the two of them were focusing on their goals and dreams outside superheroing. That was actually how she had ended up talking to Cissie, some random person had started questioning young heroes retiring online, and Cissie and Marinette had both jumped to the defence and they had just continued talking. That had been about six months ago. Now, they spoke almost every day.

Marinette hugged Adrien as soon as she saw him, calling out a bye to her parents she dragged him out of the bakery and they headed to the park. They had a few hours to catch up before they had to meet Alya and Nino.

.oOo.

A week or so later, Cissie was stuck in the makeup chair when she heard the notification that she had set for M’s messages go off.

Designs&Coffee: DID YOU KNOW THERE’S A NEW CISSIE KING-JONES MOVIE COMING OUT IN A FEW MONTHS.

IM SO FREAKING EXCITED

Arrow Girl: I could tell.

Designs&Coffee: I feel like you should be more excited.

ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING ACTRESSESS WHO SHARES A NAME WITH YOU IS STARRING IN A MOVIE

Sometimes, Cissie wondered how M didn’t figure it out. Her username was Arrow girl, she knew her first name was Cissie and M knew that she was working in the movie industry. But then M treated her like a normal human being and not like those other fans and Cissie really didn’t want that to change that at first, she knew now that she would not treat her differently but Cissie had no idea how to go about telling her that I’m the actress you fangirl about.

However, before she could reply to M she was called so they could start shooting. Telling her that she had to go, she’d talk later and that she should take her own advice about sleep, she rushes out onto set.

.oOo.

A few months later, Cissie’s agent gets her an audition for a period drama set in the 1800s when women walked around with corsets and large skirts and Cissie for some reason agreed to audition. So, she auditioned and got the part. The first week on set was just them going over the beginning measurements for the costumes and other things like that. When she asked the director, who was going to be designing the costumes, he said that it was a rather high-profile designer who would be arriving in L.A. next week. That confused Cissie, this movie wasn’t that much of a big deal that they got a high-profile designer. She decided to ask the assistant director who seemed to be a boy around her age, so maybe seventeen or eighteen, who seemed to be always wearing a cap and headphones.

She went ahead and introduced herself to him, holding out her hand and saying, “Hi! I’m Cissie King-Jones.”

He laughed and shook her hand, “I know dudette, you’re the star in the movie. I’m Nino Lahiffe.”

He had an accent she thought was French but she wasn’t quite sure. “I was wondering about the designer, the director said it was a high-profile designer and that they would be arriving next week-“

“And then he asked you to talk to me?” he asked with a smile.

“No? Should he have?”

He chuckled, “The designer is one of my best friends, we’ve been friends since we were about five. She wanted to work on something different and when I suggested this she agreed immediately. Honestly, I think she only agreed because you’re on this movie but who knows with her.”

“Well then, I look forward to meeting her.”

.oOo.

Marinette had arrived in L.A. the day before and was now headed to set with Nino. She was nearly shaking with excitement; she was going to meet the Cissie King-Jones. Nino was laughing at her excitement, “you’re being mean,” she said.

“And you’re acting like a little child, when all of us know when you actually meet her, you’ll be too busy in your designing mode to actually say anything to her, so I took the liberty to do so for you.”

“You did what?” she screeched, earning weird looks from people around them.

“I told her that her being in the movie was probably the actual reason you agreed to work on it. Which is undeniably the truth. Feel free to thank me later.”

“I’m never going to thank you. She probably thinks I’m some crazy fan now.”

“You need to stop catastrophising, Mari. It’ll all be fine in the end.”

“Why am I friends with you?”

“We’ve been friends for too long and now you no longer know how to survive without me.”

She snorted at that, “keep telling yourself that, Nino. Keep telling yourself that.”

.oOo.

Cissie was talking to one of the other members in the cast, when she saw Nino walk in with a petite girl, with shoulder length black hair and blue eyes, who was carrying a few sketch books and a bag that looked really heavy to be carried by someone that small.

When the makeup artist told her she was done, Cissie headed in the direction of Nino and who was probably the designer. Joining the two of them, she held her hand out to the designer, “you must be the designer, I’m Cissie King-Jones.”

“Hi, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Cissie definitely didn’t know that name, her confusion must’ve been clear on her face because Marinette laughed, “I don’t go by that in the fashion industry, I’m MDC.”

Cissie took a bit to process that bit of information, she was meeting one of her favourite designers ever who was apparently a fan of hers. She was in heaven, she had to be.

“I love your work. Your new line was breath taking. I loved the second piece the most, the colours and design were amazing,” she blurted out, before she could think clearly.

Marinette just laughed, a clear sounding laugh, and said, “Thank you, I’m really glad to hear that. The second piece on the line happens to be my favourite too. And I think your work is amazing too.”

Cissie smiled, “Thank you.”

And then they proceeded to talk while Marinette showed her the designs and ideas she had.

.oOo.

Marinette and Nino returned to the hotel late in the evening and were hanging out in his room.

“I told you that you need to stop catastrophising and everything turned out fine.”

“Why yes, thank you Nino,” she drawled sarcastically.

“I thought you were never going to thank me?”

“Sarcasm, my dear friend. Sarcasm.”

“So, you were being sarcastic when you said you would never thank me ‘cause it sure didn’t sound like it.”

Throwing a pillow at his face and calling out a Good night Marinette ran to her room. She opened her laptop to check if she had missed any messages. There were 10 messages from Arrow Girl. Opening their chat Marinette wondered what Cissie had sent. What she saw left her feeling shocked and incredibly stupid. In hindsight it was extremely obvious but then again she didn’t know Adrien was Cat Noir until he detransformed in front of her.

Arrow Girl: M!!!!!!!!!!!

I MET MDC TODAY AND MADE A COMPLETE FOOL OF MYSELF

SHE’S DOING THE COSTUMES IN THE NEW MOVIE IM DOING

AND LIKE HER FRIEND TOLD ME YESTERDAY THAT SHE LIKES MY WORK

AND THAT WAS PROBABLY WHY SHE HAD AGREED TO WORK ON THIS PROJECT

AND THEN I GO UP TO HER AND INTRODUCE MYSELF AND SHE INTRODUCES HERSELF WITH HER REAL NAME AND I MUSTVE HAD A BLANK EXPRESSION CUZ THEN SHE SAID I GO BY MDC

AND THEN I BLANKED OUT

AND IF THAT WASN’T BAD ENOUGH I BLURTED OUT I LOVE YOUR WORK YOUR NEW LINE WAS BREATH TAKING AND I LOVED THE SECOND PIECE THE MOST AND THAT THE COLOURS AND DESIGNS WERE AMAZING

AND THEN SHE WAS SO SWEET AND NICE TO ME AND THANKED ME AND SAID THE SECOND PIECE WAS HER FAVOURITE TOO AND THAT SHE THOUGHT MY WORK WAS AMAZING

M!!!!!!! ANSWER ME PLEASE IM DYING OF HUMILIATION.

She thought about her reply for about a minute and the sent it off.

Designs&Coffee: I’m sure she didn’t think you were awkward.

She was probably concentrating more on the fact that she was talking to CISSIE KING-JONES

Her response was instantaneous.

Arrow Girl: How can you be so sure?

Also how did you finally figure out that I’m that Cissie

Designs&Coffee: I’m so sure because I’m that M

As in the M in MDC. Also how I figured you were that Cissie

Hi again! I’m Marinette. I’m 17 and sorta run a fashion empire

Arrow Girl: Cissie King-Jones. I’m seventeen too and currently an actress.

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, she was worried that this might’ve ended badly

Arrow Girl: Wanna actually hang out tomorrow?

Designs&Coffee: sure!

.oOo.

Cissie woke up two mornings later to nearly a hundred notifications on her phone. About twenty of the notifications were from news channels, which was strange she was supposed to get those only when her name was mentioned in an article and 20 articles in a day were strange. There were another fifty from Bart, which happened occasionally. Ten each from Cassie and Marinette. And a few messages each from Tim, Kon, Greta and Anita.

Checking the news articles first because they would probably give some insight on the dozens of messages, she saw that someone had seen her out with Marinette yesterday and taken a photo which the tabloids had eaten up like starved wolves.

Bart had clearly lost patience fast, his messages were getting more and more pleading as she scrolled through all fifty. Laughing she told him that she had just woken up and would answer all his questions, and she and Marinette weren’t together it was just a misunderstanding, like the one Tim deals with all the time. Kon, Anita and Greta used to the several articles that came with Tim had picked out articles that had the most ridiculous theories and had sent it to her. Cassie had done the same along with several other questions. Choosing to answer Cassie first, she calls Cassie and spends nearly an hour talking to her even though it took Cissie only five minutes to explain the whole tabloid mess. Tim had sent a message saying “welcome to the world where if you’re seen outside your house with someone, everyone is going to believe you’re in a relationship.” Cissie just responded with a laughing face emoji.

Marinette had apologised for her friends’ behaviour, strange as that was. Saying that if she gets e-mails from Adrien Agreste, Luka Couffaine, Alya Césaire or Kagami Tsurugi it would be best to ignore them. They were just over protective and annoying. Cissie pointedly ignored how Marinette had casually brought up four very prominent people in the world. Apparently Marinette’s friends not used to the whole invasiveness of paparazzi had decided to deliver Cissie a shovel talk over e-mail before Marinette could clear up the confusion with her friends. She had also added that they were supposed to apologise and to please tell her if they didn’t.

And that was when she remembered her own friends’ highly similar behaviour and sent a text in the Young Justice group chat that she’d use them as moving target practice if they decide to induct her into their group with threats, and then sent another message to Tim to stop whatever extensive background check he was doing. She groaned as she got a smiley face in reply. Then the notification she had set for Marinette went off.

Designs&Coffee: I’ve been meaning to ask you about why you had all the points you had for young heroes retiring???? so, uh, why did you?

Groaning she flopped back onto the bed, this was going to be one hell of a day.

So my thoughts on how it would go ahead:

Marinette and Cissie meet up to talk about her text but Cissie doesn't really tell her about Arrowette. She changes the topic, after all Marinette was also ready with several points on the same topic. Maybe they eventually tell each other maybe they don't, i don't exactly know.

Marinette's friends calm down pretty soon after, Alya takes some more time but eventually calms down too.

When Cissie says, 'Marinette had casually brought up four very prominent people in the world', Its because at this point Adrien's run as a model still hasn't died out with it being only a year after Hawkmoth's defeat. Kagami is a world famous fencer, Luka joins Jagged Stone on tour and becomes pretty famous too and Alya listened to Marinette, (It ends up being Marinette and Adrien after the reveal who get through to her), she ends up making a name for herself in the year after Hawmoth's defeat, though her work still focuses around heroes/vigilantes which is why Cissie knows her, she's not really that prominent outside France.

Sometime after Cissie finishes talking to Cassie and sees Marinette's text Bart shows up demanding answers. They don't actually know it's Marinette, as in they don't know her name. Marinette Dupain-Cheng isn't really well known, MDC is, and no one knows who MDC is. Tim would probably do a facial recognition scan find out who she is and continue on with his extensive background check and probably figures out she's MDC somewhere along the way. Traya asks about Marinette the next time she sees Cissie

#maribatmarch2021 #ml x dc #maribat #but not really #none of the batfam are actually there #tim's mentioned tho #my writing

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mariaiscrafting · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Wilbur Soot? I want a full-blown essay at least 10k words/j. All jokes aside, this is an amazing blog, I come to it every day to see if you've posted something new :]. Keep going forward OP, you're truly amazing.

That is so sweet 😢 (/gen)

I was really gonna write, “I dunno, I just think he’s a nice dude,” but then you asked for 10k words, so now Imma actually rant. Wilbur’s probably one of the first people who got me back into Minecraft, around 2019, and he was the first person I felt comfortable enough watching the Dream SMP vods from, back in November.

First of all, the guy’s fricking gorgeous, like, ???? I never see any simping for him on my dash, and I’m just like ??? I’m not very good at simping over people’s appearances myself, so all I will say is that he’s fricking beautiful, jfc.

Second of all, I’m a music nerd, okay, and I really fucking like his singing. Back then, I listened to his music covers so much that I learned the lyrics from songs I’d never even heard of before I started watching Wilbur, by heart. Lol it helps quite a bit that a good chunk of my musical taste is made up of Life is Strange-esque, shitty indie songs that fit right into the covers he made back when he first started streaming. I’ve listened to YCGMA so many times that I have that same familiarity I have with songs I’ve listened to for literal years, knowing exactly what song comes next and when each measure ends and when the breaths are taken, etc., etc. He doesn’t have much finnesse when it comes to the technical qualities of his singing abilities, but he’s a damn good musician. His lyrical composition, chord progressions, little guitar riffs, emotion - ahhh, I just love Wilbur Soot’s music so much. I’m certain I’ll be listening to YCGMA in the middle of the night, when I need a good cry, for years to come lol.

Third of all, I really, really appreciate his openness about his mental health just, so much. He talks about his anxiety and getting depressed so candidly, he so easily lets his audience know about what kinda mental state he was in during uni and as a teenager and while he wrote YCGMA, and it makes me feel so normal. As dumb and cliched as it is to need a public figure to validate my own lived experiences, I do, and for someone like Wilbur Soot to succeed and be so talented, encouraging, empathetic, and socially active, despite losing motivation and energy at times, gives me a little bit of hope for myself.

Fourth of all, I mean, the guy’s fucking hilarious, are we forgetting this? People always talk about his talents music-wise and writing-wise, or how nice he seems to be, but they always gloss over his genuine comedic ability, and I ??? It takes so much to keep my attention these days, and Wilbur Soot’s videos are still some of the only ones that can manage that feat. He has undeniable chemistry with practically any CC he meets, his editing style is just *chef’s kiss*, and his laugh somehow makes even the most mundane of jokes seem fucking hilarious, it’s just such a delight to watch or listen to him do bits, man.

I left the best for last, lol. The main reason I fricking love Wilbur Soot is his political consciousness and the fact that his political beliefs align pretty well with my own. I’ve dealt with cishet, mostly white guys, both on and off the Internet, for so many damn years, and it’s exhausting. I am so tired of deconstructing myself and suppressing myself for the sake of social interaction, community-building, preventing ostracization, and being able to consume content without feeling enraged or hopeless. It is an exhausting endeavor to want to like and love all the gamers I’ve watched since middle school, and having to just push down and numb the parts of me that want to flinch at offhanded jokes and comments and exclusion from online spaces. Wilbur Soot is a whole other breed of CC. Lol uhhh, I guess he’s what most of the people in the social media circles I used to frequent would call, “a feminist cuck” and “self-hating white guy.” Which all really just means that he goes just beyond human decency. Don’t get me wrong, I do not by any means let white, cishet guys dictate my self-worth anymore, or even let them educate me; that’s what all the wonderful female and POC and queer CCs that I’ve discovered over the years are for. But there’s still something deeply satisfying about listening to this person who fits all the demographic checkboxes of the kinda person who used to make me feel so Other and Wrong, instead rant about how teenage girls can’t express their interests without being denigrated for them out of deeply-entrenched misogyny, or about how society needs to stop villanizing poor people and realize that government aid and social services do a great service for community betterment and are not just used by people supposedly leeching off the taxpayer’s dime. That’s not even to mention the fucking beautiful satire of the E-Girl Trilogy. I always wanted to rant about this, but I don’t know how exactly to put it into the proper words... Basically, as someone who has spent years and years retconning, observing, and caught in the midst of incels, conservatives, and just extremely depressed cishet men of all races, I am deeply familiar with all the resentment, anxiety, misogyny, homophobia, gender essentialism, and self-hatred that goes into creating the average 20-something man’s view on women, society, romance, friendships, and sex. The E-Girl Trilogy is fucking brilliant because it so accurately captures this cocktail of emotions and ideologies, creating a fucking perfect caricature of the average man who looks and is just like Wilbur Soot. The persona is so well-crafted that most listeners who aren’t familiar with Wilbur as a person, or his political views, actually believe these songs are genuine and empathize with the narrators, can you imagine? And the fact that, in the process, Wilbur himself realizes that all of it is a fucking joke, that the narrator’s views on his love interest are weird and creepy and not at all normal or correct, is what makes it genuine satire. He embodies something so perfectly, only to mock it in the process of showing off how much he can embody it... I love satire, but I fucking suck at writing or accurately embodying it, so I’ve always been so fucking jealous of and beyond impressed by the E-Girl Trilogy’s use of satire.

Lol this isn’t 10k words, but it was much longer than I fucking thought it’d be. Basically, I really like Wilbur Soot, and writing all of this made me realize just how much I missed watching his VODs and streams...

#mcyt #asks #wilbur soot #wilbur #Anonymous #phantom

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a-dragons-journal · 4 years ago

Text

My Experiences of Nonhumanity

I get asked about “what makes you/people in general feel you’re/they’re otherkin” a lot, and while the answer is far from simple and my experiences are anything but universal, I figure it deserves a write-up once in a while. A friend asked about it a couple nights ago, so I wrote up a huge long message on Discord, and decided to rewrite it into a Tumblr post for posterity. This’ll be a long one, folks; hit J on desktop to skip.

It’s worth noting ahead of time: none of these things are required to be otherkin, and none of them automatically mean you’re otherkin. In fact, most of them are little more than mildly “weird” quirks when they occur in isolation, and only start to push outside the range of “normal human experiences” when many of them occur together. You can’t look at someone (including yourself) and say “they like collecting things, they must be dragonkin!” It’s not that simple. You have to take the individual as a whole even as you examine each specific experience in more detail - don’t lose the forest while you’re studying the trees. This is just a description of my personal experiences.

Shifts

- Phantom shifts/supernumerary phantom limbs: Probably the most obvious thing and the hardest to brush off, although I still managed to do so for years. Phantom shifts, aka supernumerary phantom limbs, are the experience of feeling limbs or body parts that do not and never have physically existed. In my case, the most common phantom limbs to show up are my wings and tail; other body parts, such as digitigrade legs, horns, snout, and paws/talons, also make appearances less frequently. While my phantom limbs almost never attempt to replicate tactile sensations/interactions with the physical world, they’re often defined by very vivid proprioception (ability to tell where your body is in space, mainly via muscle stretch receptors), and I can tell where each part of the limb is at any given time - it’s not just a shapeless sense of “weight,” or it wouldn’t be phantom limbs. I can also move them at will, typically. My phantom shifts are typically spontaneous and involuntary, but they’ve been induced artificially a couple different ways as well, though I can’t typically do it at will.

- Sensory shifts: Still not something I’m totally sure I experience, but there are definitely times my sense of smell becomes insanely strong compared to usual even for me, which fits the definition of a sensory shift.

- Astral shifts: While I’m far from an adept astral traveler, when visualizing “traveling” within my own mindscape, I shift form fluidly between human and dragon - although I almost always have wings at the very least.

- Cameo shifts: Mentioned only because it’s relevant to my phantom shifts. I realized at some point that the reason I get cameo shifts of canine/feline ears sometimes is because they usually show up when they’re pricking/flattening to express emotion, and the muscles that move to do that action are basically the same as the ones that do those actions with the crest that runs down my neck, and because of my obsession with cats/dogs/horses as a young child and because that’s not a particularly strong phantom shift for me usually, I connected the dots a little wrong and created a false association.

- Self-image: This isn’t technically a shift, but it’s going here anyway because it doesn’t really fit in any other section either. My body image/self-image is weird. I know, consciously, what I physically look like. However, my instinctive self-image is... hmm. What I “expect” to see doesn’t always match up with what’s actually there when I look in the mirror. Teeth are a huge point of fixation for me for some reason; I always expect them to be larger, sharper, stronger. I expect my neck to be longer, my face to be... different. I expect scales in places. I expect claws. Even knowing consciously that of course it won’t be there, it’s still strange sometimes that it’s not. There’s sometimes some mild disconnect when I see myself. (Sometimes not. But sometimes.)

Homesickness

(Or, the sense of missing something you’ve never had - not of “I want/want to be [x], and it makes me sad/upset that I don’t have/am not that,” but of “I should have/be [x], and it is fundamentally wrong that I do/am not.”)

- Flight: I have always wanted to fly, and for a long time I thought everyone ached for the sky the same way I did. Most people don’t, as it turns out. Yes, everyone’s fantasized about flying, but most people don’t feel bones-deep, crushing, physical pain in their chest thinking about it. Most people don’t lift up onto their toes instinctively straining for the sky. I’ve felt that aching longing for it for as long as I can remember.

- Connection to dragons: For as long as I can remember knowing about dragons, I loved the idea of them and even when I was very young, when I’d only really been exposed to media where they were the great evil for the hero to defeat and received no more character development than “evil, destructive, fire-breathing beast,” I was always on the dragon’s side and wanted to learn more about them. That hasn’t faded. I’ll watch an absolutely terrible movie or TV show that I otherwise loathe if it has good enough animation and sound design on the dragons. (Looking at you, Game of Thrones.*) I would commit arson to see one of those Isle-style dragon survival games actually go through and finish production. (Holding out hope for the Dragon Game Project on YouTube; go check them out if you haven’t already.) I’ve also used dragons to represent myself for pretty much as long as I’ve had an online presence - years before I ever heard of otherkin, I was calling myself Dragonheart.

- Dragon-like creatures: Snakes, crocodilians, and dinosaurs all fall into this category - all of them give me a similar heart-and-breathing-pick-up, aching familiarity to dragons. They’re not perfect, but in a snake’s scales and a crocodile’s bellows and a dinosaur’s spectacular reptilian size I see echoes of us and I have always loved them with a passion, even before I quite knew why.

- Dragon/”monster” noises: Sound generators, creature sound design, real animal noises, etc. that are meant to be monstrous and that most people find unsettling or even frightening, I find comforting and relaxing. Alligator bellows, “monster noise” soundscapes, etc. all apply here.

* No shade on anyone who likes Game of Thrones, I’m just not a fan. :P

Behaviors/Instincts/Urges

- Hoarding: I’m still not sure how much of the crystal thing is "monkey brain say Shiney Colorful," how much is a witch thing, and how much is a dragon thing, but some of it is a dragon thing.

- Territorial/possessive nature: I can get... extremely territorial over my stuff and my home. This can extend right into being ridiculously protective of my people too, although I do try to rein that in to a reasonable amount. This also extends into games like Capture the Flag, because put me on defending the border during middle and high school and I got frighteningly territorial. (Fun fact, this extends to spiritual protection stuff and it has almost gotten me in trouble a few times on that front.) The other main side effect is my brain trying to claim completely inappropriate things as “mine,” like every piano I have ever touched or, that one time, the entire city of Portland.

- Prey drive: Going on a walk in the woods with me will always be an exercise in stopping every twenty seconds because I heard a small animal move in the brush and froze instinctively to track it. Prey drive ranges from "okay I can indulge this enough to track-stalk-chase without actually intending to catch-kill-eat" to "this is entirely inappropriate and needs to Stop Right Now" depending on the day and the situation - sometimes it’s fairly low-key and innocent, but sometimes it's also being confronted with the sudden and completely serious/genuine thought of grabbing someone or something by the neck/around the body with your jaws and hunt-prey-kill-devour when it's completely inappropriate and kind of disturbing or even sickening. It’s one of the more annoying things, although it’s not like it’s severe enough that I’m an actual danger to anyone - it’s just a gut thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level without significant problems. This also bleeds into games (I get... maybe a little overenthusiastic during tag) and even watching TV shows or gaming videos - most of the time at least part of me is rooting for the hunter because I relate to them as a fellow predator, even if the audience is supposed to be rooting for the prey - I mean, protagonists.

- Basking/heat-seeking: Probably only partially a dragon thing, but despite the fact that I hate heat in general, radiant/sun heat and heat from a heated surface are both fantastic feelings provided the ambient air temperature isn't too high. I'm guessing this is at least partially a reptile brain thing.

- Height-seeking: Give me a chance to climb up on top of something - a rock, a cliff, a chair, a table, a bunk bed - and look out over everything else, and I'll take it in an instant. Getting to climb up on the roof is the best thing that's happened to me this entire quarantine.

- Flight instinct: Being mildly leery of cliffs not because I am afraid of falling, because I'm really not, but because there's always some part of my brain that goes "jump, fly, this is a perfect takeoff spot" and I have to squash that before I do something particularly stupid. This manifests in other ways, but that's the most dramatic (and annoying) one. This is also one of the things I noticed as definitively not normal long before my awakening. (The Grand Canyon was fun.) Similarly to the prey drive thing, it's not like I'm actually in danger of throwing myself off cliffs, it’s just - there's a not-insignificant part of my brain that thinks "hey we should go run and jump off and take a quick flight," in the same way I might also casually think "hey I should stroll across to the corner store for a bag of chips" before I consciously decide whether or not to do that. It’s the exact same type of thought process, despite the fact that one of those things is something I might do on any given school day, and the other is, you know, physically impossible.

- Combat instincts: I get in a fight and my pure instinct is to bite or claw, not kick or punch or whatever it is humans do instinctively. I have those reflexes now courtesy of Krav, but I had to train them in - if you’d thrown me into a fight before, I absolutely would have resorted to claws/nails and teeth immediately (and I still will, when pressed into a corner). Sometimes, unfortunately, this goes off completely unwarranted, either in an anger situation that does not deserve a physical response, or for no apparent reason whatsoever. It's one of the more problematic things, but once again - it’s not like it’s a compulsion, just a gut-emotion thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level.

- Scent focus: Who knows how much of this is environmental influence and how much is instinctive, but I always have and still do focus on scent more than most humans seem to. I can identify people by scent, I seem to pay more attention to it than most people do. I also seem less bothered by natural body smells than most people do, but considering the responses when I asked around in the otherkin community once about that, unclear whether or not that's connected.

- Nonhuman noises: I make just a bunch of weird nonhuman noises, and always have. Growls, hisses, croons, hurrs, throat-clicks, chirps, etc. I've never met any human who does them instinctively like I do except my half-sister (whom I didn’t meet until a couple years ago), and she was just as surprised to hear me do it as I was surprised to hear her do it.

- Affection: Face-rubbing, light head-bonking against someone’s shoulder/body/head, and love nips/bites are all perfectly acceptable ways to show platonic affection, to dragon brain. Human society disagrees. The instinct to do these things is so strong that I definitely do give into the first two with people I’m close with, and I have physically had to catch and restrain myself when I was about to unthinkingly bite/nip someone’s skin because I wasn’t paying enough attention.

- Movement: Moving on all fours just feels better than moving on two legs, even though it’s objectively physically uncomfortable because humans aren’t built for that. I also have the instinctive want to be a lot more flexible than I’m capable of being, in ways I’m not capable of being - curling all the way around something or someone to squeeze them tight in the coil of my body, turning my head a hundred eighty degrees because my neck Should Be Longer.

- Expression: Baring one’s teeth when frustrated, irritated, or angry is not a particularly human instinct. I realize it’s something a lot of primates do do, but. *gestures at society* Humans ain’t one of them, at least not anymore. Even in Krav Maga, which is a self-defense style that focuses on being vicious and “dirty fighting” to survive a real street fight, every single time I have a new partner (and most times I have a partner I’ve worked with before) and I get tired enough to get snarly, they respond with some variation of “god that’s scary”. See also: gesturing at things with my nose because it should be long enough to make that a much more dramatic gesture than it ends up being.

- Den/lair/small spaces: I never feel safer than when curled up in a tiny alcove just big enough to comfortably fit my body curled up into it. The only position I’ll prioritize over it is getting up onto a high space.

Past Life Work

Unlike every other bullet point on this list, most of these didn’t apply until I started actively seeking them out, because, you know. Past life memories are like that.

- Past life regressions: I’ve got a tag for these, but tl;dr I take anything I learn from a past life regression or similar meditation/visualization with a whole spoonful of salt, forget “a grain,” because I know for a fact my brain is very good at making stuff up with these types of exercises. Unfortunately, they’re the only way to get information on certain things, like appearance.

- Tarot: Got a tag for that too. I use tarot to ask questions and confirm or reject suspicions.

- Spontaneous memories: I don’t have many, but they’re clear as day when they do appear. I don’t count something as a “true” memory unless it includes senses I can’t reproduce through imagination - smell and touch, mainly. Mostly these are quick flashbulbs, nothing cinematic or anything like that.

- Noemata: Again, I don’t have much in the way of noemata, but what I do have is persistent and consistent. I know things about my wing shape and flight style despite not having really experienced that in detail during past life regressions. That particular set of noemata has been confirmed to fit with real-world physics and bat wing shapes (the closest wing type to mine that exists or has existed on Earth).

#think that about sums it up #otherkin #dragonkin #this got real long #long post #journaling #rani talks #feel free to reblog if you like

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chemicalmagecraft · 4 years ago

Text

Taiyuu OCT Bonus Round 2

@taiyuu-oct

Yukino didn't know much about Zuruko, other than the fact that she hated that girl. How could she, when she couldn't even remember talking to her? All she had was one memory of her, the pink-haired sheep girl telling her to go away. The rest of the information she had on her was from reminders made from cold letters appearing on her clothes seemingly at random. Yukino didn't know exactly how the girl's Quirk worked, aside from the fact that it erased memories and she apparently made no effort to control it or even turn it off, but to be honest that was all Yukino really needed to know.

Zuruko was dangerous, in Yukino's opinion. Her Quirk wasn't the most obviously dangerous, not next to things like 'generating vast amounts of fire,' 'creating turpentine,' or 'the ability to freeze anything, including the human body, in a matter of seconds,' but her attitude? From what Yukino could gather, Zuruko just didn't care at all what happened to other people from her not controlling her Quirk. Which, when that's something like memory erasure? Even if people haven't been hurt from it (that Yukino knew of; she highly doubted Zuruko had no blood on her hands at all keeping her Quirk on all the time like that), it still made Yukino's blood boil that she just didn't seem to care how potentially disturbing having large chunks of your memory just not present could be. As a fellow Emitter? Zuruko disgusted Yukino.

The last straw was when Yukino found herself roaring, covered in frost, in the middle of the dorm common rooms with no memory of how she got in that state. She could guess, of course, but having to make an educated guess about something like her own Dragon Rage made Yukino feel... sick. Violated, honestly. So she was a little relieved when, a few days later, Buck-sensei announced mandatory student-teacher conferences. She was already thinking about talking to Wolfie-sensei about Zuruko, of course, but that was the push she needed. As soon as Buck-sensei was done with his announcement, she hurried back to her room and picked up the notebook she'd prepared with all her complaints (and maybe some dirt) on Zuruko. She also picked up her scratching block while she was at it. She sighed at how worn it was. She'd need to get a new one soon, she really did a number on it. Especially over the past few days...

x x x

Yukino leaned back casually in her chair, scratching at her scratching block a little. "So, did you wanna talk about anything in particular or do I start?"

Wolfie-sensei stared at her scratching block. "What's with the block?"

Yukino shrugged. "Scratching block. Made for people with claw mutations and stuff like that. It's kinda like a scratching post, except portable and a little more dignified. It keeps claws healthy, too. It cool if I keep it out?"

He nodded, writing something down on a notepad. "Looks a little worn, though."

She sighed. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to get a new one soon. It's also a little... cathartic, I guess, when I'm stressed. Probably some dragon instinct or something. Ssso I kinda tend to scratch at it a lot when something bad is going on. Still, better a block that's made to be scratched up than someone's face or a couch, right?"

"That makes sense. Please talk to me or another teacher about getting a new one later." He wrote on his notepad again.

Yukino nodded. "'Course." She held up the block, studying its surface. "And as for why it looks so scratched up, I've been kinda upset the past few days. Been wanting to bring it up with you, actually, so this was pretty convenient. Did you know that sometimes residual mutations from a parent or grandparent's Quirk can include some form of their Quirk's drawback? Usually it's weakened, but it can still cause some annoyance..."

"What are you getting at?" her teacher asked.

Yukino remembered the first time it happened. It was so long ago, only a year after she got her Quirk. One moment one of her classmates was telling her how weird her mom looked despite her protests, the next she was being restrained by her teacher, her throat hoarse from screaming and her hands cold and sore from the frost-covered claw marks on the ground. Her mother explained to her later, how her emotions could rage out of control if she was scared, angry, or hurt enough. And unfortunately Yukino ended up having to change schools after that, even though she hadn't hurt anyone...

"We call it Dragon Rage," Yukino said. "Think of it like... whenever my flight or fight response hits, it tends to hit hard. Typically 'fight,' too."

He wrote that down, brow furrowed. "Should I be concerned?"

Yukino shook her head. "I've been dealing with it almost as long as my actual Quirk, and believe it or not I'm normally pretty responsible with stuff like that. As far as I know I've only had a Dragon Rage attack twice in the past year, and only one of those was really bad. I'm kinda proud of how well I'm doing with it." Yukino smiled at Wolfie-sensei, but then put her block on the table and steepled her fingers together, letting a colder expression take over her face. "So you can imagine how uncomfortable I might have felt suddenly waking up from a particularly bad Dragon Rage with no memory of how I even got to that point, right?"

Wolfie-sensei raised an eyebrow. "Is that normal?"

She shrugged. "If it's bad enough it's possible that I could have a few holes in my memory, but I will always remember what got me riled up in the first place. Sometimes even more vividly than normal, if it's particularly bad. So how, then, do you think that I lost those memories?"

"That's rhetorical, isn't it?"

"Zuruko Kayaki." Yukino pulled out her notebook, throwing it on the table. "Supposedly she has zero control over her Quirk, which in my opinion is a really bad thing even if it's not some form of memory erasure. I've managed to document a few bits of evidence that make me... doubtful of that fact, though. Or at least, doubtful that her Quirk can't be controlled, even if she really can't control it. She could just not be putting the right effort in or has some sort of mental block she has to work through, which is still on her by the way. Probably part of why I got so angry in the first place. To be honest it's starting to get really disturbing having my memories just have random holes like that, so even if I'm wrong I'd like you to do something about her."

Wolfie-sensei picked up the notebook, flipping through a few pages. His brow furrowed. "We've been dealing with Zuruko-chan already, but this is a serious accusation. Do you mind if I take this?"

She gave him a thumbs-up. "Go ahead, I figured you might."

"If you don't mind me asking, though, why are you so annoyed at Zuruko-chan?" he asked.

Yukino rested her head on her hands. "I mean, probably the most obvious bit? I reserve the right to be very annoyed with anyone who does anything to my mind without my explicit, informed consent. Don't get me wrong, I don't categorically hate people with mind-affecting Quirks or anything, but you can get why I wouldn't be too appreciative of stuff like that happening to me without my permission, right?"

Wolfie-sensei sighed and nodded. "That's fair."

"Good, good," Yukino smiled at him. Or perhaps it might have been a little more accurate to say she bared her teeth at him. "Now I get that she says she can't control it or anything, but that doesn't mean she can't take responsibility for it either, which from what I've been able to see she hasn't done either. And that one's totally on her by this point, in my opinion."

"What's the difference?"

"They make three-fingered gloves for people whose Quirks activate automatically when they put all five fingers on an object. People whose Quirks activate automatically through any skin contact usually wear gloves and long sleeves. Neki-chan has that one Quirk-nullifying thing. Worst comes to worst, I've heard of support companies who make what are basically inverted hazmat suits for people with severely biohazardous, radioactive, or whatever Quirks," Yukino listed.

She picked up her block and started fidgeting with it. "Not that Zuruko would need something as heavy-duty as that, probably. There's gotta be a way easier way to stop her Quirk's effects. I know, for one, that my grandfather's mind control can be stopped by something as simple as a thin sheet of tin foil on his horns. No Quirk is invincible, after all. Mine has limitations, yours does, and there is no way in hell Zuruko's Quirk or its effects can't be stopped in any way. Even still, the only gaps in my memory are in common areas." Yukino scratched at her block a little too forcefully, then shook out her hand because the motion hurt her fingertips a little. Her claws weren't Quirk-reinforced, so scratching something too hard really hurt. "If it was only if I tried to go in Zuruko's room that my memories were erased I maybe wouldn't have quite as much of a leg to stand on, but why should I have to avoid common areas if I don't want to randomly be affected by someone else's Quirk?"

"I'll look into that, but for now let's move on."

Yukino nodded, her posture relaxing again. "Long as you understand where I'm coming from. What next?"

"Why are you here at Taiyuu?" he asked.

Yukino chuckled. "If that isn't a question I've been asking myself for the past few days... Do you want Taiyuu specifically or why I wanna be a hero in general? Because the answer's different depending on which one you want."

"Let's hear both, if you don't mind."

"First, hero in general. It was... a combination of factors. For one, I have two heroes in my family already. I mean, Ryuji only recently graduated from UA, but Gong'gong-my grandfather-has been one for over half a century. But that was just some of the inspiration. I think... a couple weeks after I got my Quirk, I happened to see a pro with an ice Quirk fighting a villain, which I thought was super cool." Yukino raised a hand, cutting Wolfie-sensei off as he opened his mouth to say something. "Buuut those are just petty reasons that I'll admit probably shouldn't be my entire reason. To be honest if those were my only reason, it's possible I could've ended up training to take over the family restaurant instead." Yukino took a deep breath. "I think... my reasons for being a hero shifted after my... g-grandmother died." Yukino bit her lip and rubbed her eyes. This wasn't going to be easy to talk about, but she probably should.

"You don't have to tell me what happened, if you don't want to," Wolfie-sensei assured her. "I think I can get the picture."

She took another deep breath, nodding. "Th-thanks. I think... if a little girl walked up to me and thanked me for saving her grandmother, that'd be just as much of a victory to me as getting in the top ten."

Wolfie-sensei nodded. "Thank you for telling me that."

Yukino nodded. "You're welcome, I guess. As for why I went to Taiyuu... To be honest I just didn't feel like going to UA. I mean, this did seem pretty nice... from the entrance exam, anyway... but..." Yukino sighed, scratching lightly at her block. "I probably could've gotten into UA if I applied myself, but I just didn't feel like going to my brother's school, even though it's supposed to be super good." She gave Wolfie-sensei a wry smile. "How dumb is that?"

"You should never regret going to a school."

Yukino snorted. "You're right, I shouldn't."

"But you are. Why is that?"

Yukino rolled her eyes. "I haven't learned a thing here that I couldn't have just asked my brother about, everything not made of dirt looks like a rush job, oh, and how could I forget how much you've done about the girl with the supposedly uncontrollable mind-erasing Quirk?" she listed.

"We are actually working on Zuruko-chan's issues. We haven't just ignored the problem and hoped it'd go away."

Yukino's expression turned cold, and even though she hadn't used her Quirk the temperature in the room seemed to drop by a degree or two. She crossed her arms. "Oh? So those holes in my memory that only pop up when I see Zuruko are not, in fact, caused by Zuruko's Quirk?" Yukino slammed a hand on the table, using it to push herself up. Her claws left small scratches in the cheap wood. "Thank you for your time, but I should probably go see a doctor about that, then."

Wolfsboon sighed. "Okay, I get it. We'll do something about her, just sit down so we can finish."

Yukino sat. She did her best to make it obvious, though, that she still wasn't happy with Wolfsboon. "Fine. But I'm holding you to that."

"Okay, next question." Wolfsboon looked at his notes, then sighed audibly. "Okay. How, aside from dealing with Zuruko-chan, can we make your experience here better?"

"Do something about the hot water. The heating isn't the best, but I brought a space heater for that just in case. The water, though... I have to wake up fully before leaving my room or I could end up falling back asleep with how the heating is at the moment, that's more or less a drawback of my Quirk, so by the time I get to take a shower there usually isn't much water left, if at all. Cold water is really bad for me, Quirk drawback again. I don't sweat, so I can go longer without taking a shower before I feel gross, but I'd still like to be able to go from bedroom to shower every morning without Quirk drawbacks popping up at some point, y'know? Morning routines are good to keep up."

"I'll see about it, but there's only so much we can do. Next, what plans do you have for the future? Not just hero work, but do you have any backup plans?"

"Ehh, let me think..." Yukino narrowed her eyes and stroked her chin, thinking. "Okay, I should probably put a little more thought into that, but my dad's restaurant isn't going anywhere, so that's something. As for hero work... I will be villain fighting, but I feel like I could probably do well with search and rescue, too. I mean, I'm pretty sure that I'd at least do pretty well with fires." She shrugged. "Still, probably should put a little more thought into it. Anything else?"

He shook his head. "Unless you have something else you want to bring up, you're done here. Thank you for your time."

Yukino got up. "Cool, I'm gonna go now. Bye." Yukino lazily waved at him as she walked out the door. "Thanks for taking my concerns seriously," she added half-heartedly.

x x x

Yukino sighed and sat down on her bed. She opened up the contact list on her phone, pressing the call button on one of the first names on the list. She put her phone up to her ear, hearing it ring. "C'mon, pick up you jerk," she muttered.

Click. "Yuki-chan? What's up?"

"Hey, Niichan." Yukino sighed and rubbed her face. "Do you know if it's possible to transfer into UA?"

"I'll... have to look into what you’d need to do for it, but I doubt you can’t." There was silence on the other end, then he spoke again. "Do... do you want to talk about it?"

Yukino bit her lip, trying not to cry. "I... don't know. Maybe later."

"Well, if you change your mind just give me a call. Love you." He ended the call.

Yukino curled up into a ball. "Love you, too..." she sighed.

#taiyuu oct #taiyuu ocs #takeda yukino #wolfsboon #zuruko kayaki

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

Text

MLA Week, Day 2: Judge/Shackles/Freedom

A threefer! Spinner and his brand new lieutenants. (Look, until Horikoshi starts deigning to give these guys names, they are free real estate.)

I was originally going to use this day to write about one of the more thuggy or delinquent-looking lieutenants, spin out an ex-con not being able to get his feet back under him and so sliding into the MLA’s sphere, but then I remembered this three foot tall goblin in a drugstore Halloween costume and decided to go with him instead.

Also included is Spinner’s number 1, this gal:

Content Notes: Discussions of disability, portrayal of the marginalized having become the radicalized. The Liberation Army’s really fascinating, y’all.

———– ———– ———– ———–

«I think you’ll like this one,» Nimble announces, the rainbow-colored letters of her quirk dancing in the air.

“You thought I’d like the first two, too,” Spinner replies skeptically, looking away from the floating words to focus on his brand new number one, a woman with a face like a doll whose sculptor had gotten as far as the eyes—huge and green—before giving up on the rest, little things like a nose and a mouth. She breathes by absorbing air through her skin like a frog, apparently, which is why she dresses the way she does, a distractingly low-cut tank top and a sweater jacket that he has never once seen covering her shoulders.

She shrugs, expressive eyes briefly fluttering closed, and movement in the air draws Spinner’s attention back over to where her quirk—Sky Write—has spelled out her response.

«I thought you’d like them too. Can I call him in?»

“Yeah, go ahead.” Just as long as he’s not a not surly bastard like the last two. They’d had good quirks, the last two, but damned if Spinner’s going to work with people who can’t even manage to keep resentment out of their eyes for the length of a job interview, or whatever this process of picking subordinates out of an army full of people that were trying to kill him less than two weeks ago is called.

Nimble’s letters dissolve into a shapeless blur as she looks over to the door, eyebrows briefly lowering in concentration. A few seconds later, the door to Spinner’s makeshift office opens. Spinner’s eyes drop almost half-a-person’s length in height and he tries to keep the surprise off his face.

“A kid?”

«He’s twenty-one, actually.»

“What she said.” The voice comes out a bit muffled through the black hood covering the kid’s—okay, the twenty-one-year old’s face. But if he’s the same age as Spinner, he sure as hell doesn’t look it. He can’t be over a meter tall, with the skinniest legs Spinner’s ever seen sticking out from under the hem of the black robe he wears like a kid running around the house beneath a sheet. A big feathery ruff sits around his neck like a dried-out wreath.

“Scarecrow, reporting in.” The weird little gremlin settles into a military rest in front of the desk, far enough back that it’s not too obvious that he has to tilt his head to look over it. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

Spinner stares at him, trying to suppress a grimace. Scarecrow stares back through little eyeholes cut in the hood, but without being able to see more of his face, it’s impossible to tell if he’s glaring or just has really piercing eyes.

“Right.” Spinner glances over at Nimble, who nods. Her response scrawls itself in the air between them, facing first him, then angling to face the gremlin.

«Show him your meta-ability, Scarecrow. Catch!»

She pulls out a 100 yen coin and deftly balances it on her thumb before flicking it out into the air over the desk.

Spinner bites back a yelp as bug legs unfold from beneath Scarecrow’s ruff, long, segmented things that narrow down to sharp points at the tips. Two thin lines of silk jet out from the knobby second joints, catching on the spinning coin, and the legs reel it back in, bouncing it in the air, spinning it like a weight on a string, then cocooning it up with quick efficiency. It falls neatly into his hand—not a normal human hand, Spinner notices belatedly, but a prosthetic, hard plastic and super articulated, with cables visible beneath the individual parts.

“I can fully cocoon up to twelve adult men a day,” Scarecrow rattles out. “I can also pull myself up the sides of walls and move between buildings, if they’re close enough together. I was inducted into the Meta Liberation Army on my sixteenth birthday; my parents have been members for ten years. I know we’re a relatively new family, but—”

“I don’t—” Spinner stops himself from finishing that sentence with care about that stuff, amending to, “I’m not worried about your—generation or whatever.” Is that better? Neither Scarecrow or Nimble react to it with narrowed eyes or a snarl, anyway. Promising? “Why’d you join up?”

Jumping on a bandwagon is one thing, but at least that takes a running start and a leap. Not like joining a cult because it’s just the family business, Spinner thinks viciously at his memory of that greasy asshole Trumpet’s plated mask.

Scarecrow stares at him for a long second. Spinner does his best to look serious, like he’s actually got a whole prepared list of questions or whatever. Like he knows what he’s doing.

Finally, Scarecrow holds up his hands, both spread wide, both obvious prosthetics. His bug legs twitch and probe at the air.

“I was born with no arms,” he says. “Just my forelegs. It’s not the same as having opposable thumbs, obviously, but it’s better than you’d think. But my teachers used to scold me for raising a foreleg instead of a hand to answer a question or carry things. The kind of stuff a kid who didn’t have a birth defect could use their quirk to do and no one would look twice. If I go out in public and so much as open doors for myself with them, people look at me funny. Because I look funny.”

Don’t use your quirk at school outside of training lessons, Shuuichi-kun. Spinner remembers that kind of bias, yeah. All the non-heteromorphic kids could run around the schoolyard playing tag with snowballs in July, but heaven forbid he use his quirk to climb a tree so he can get away from bullies for the length of a lunchbreak.

He pushes the memory away and nods at Scarecrow to keep him talking. Not that the guy needs much pushing—he talks like someone who’s told the story before, hard-edged, voice intense despite a mid-ranged pitch. He’s got just a hint of a—a hiss or a lisp, something that muddles the edges of his hard consonants. The hood doesn’t move like he’s hiding mandibles under there, but…

“I’ve been wearing prosthetics for longer than I can remember. The government pays for most of it, since I was born this way, but there’re a lot of limitations on it. How often they’ll replace them, what my folks got charged for them. It was always tight, and the kinds of prosthetics government money buys definitely weren’t as nice as these.” He flexes his false fingers demonstratively.

“My folks and I met Re-Destro—” and there’s that note of reverence, the same tone Re-Destro himself’s using about Shigaraki these days “—when I was nine. A family friend recommended Detnerat’s products to us, and he took an interest. That’s how we found out about the Army.”

“Yeah?” Spinner crosses his arms over his chest.

“My parents joined up because of me. But I joined up for myself. Because people think that because I have prosthetics, I shouldn’t need to use my forelegs in public.” Scarecrow’s voice sharpens. “Like I don’t have the right to use the limbs I was born with. I should have that right. We all should.”

“We’re not out to reform society, you know,” Spinner cautions him. He’s had to tell Re-Destro that too many times already, and that’s just having grasped it himself there in the ruins of Deika. “That’s not what Shigaraki’s after.”

Scarecrow gives him another long, quiet look, unreadable behind his hood. Finally—slower, less practiced—he nods and answers, “Destro’s teaching was that oppression will always lead to revolution. The Grand Commander of the Liberation Army is the one who’ll throw off those chains. Whatever he makes of the world, I want to be there to help, not sitting in my shackles waiting for someone to hand me an answer.”

Spinner breathes out hard. He scratches at his hair.

“…Right,” he manages. Don’t admit he said it better than you could. “Well put.” He turns to Nimble and adds, “Well, he didn’t offend me.”

«I know you’d like him.» Her words practically shimmy in the air, flickering green and yellow and pink. «Then do we have our number 2?»

Spinner glances back over at Scarecrow, who’s staring determinedly out the window behind the desk, his back toy soldier straight. He still looks more like a kid in a costume than anything else, but…

Well, I like him better than people like the politician. And we need to keep things moving, anyway. Don’t stop running or someone might catch up.

“Yeah, I think so” he says aloud, then takes a breath and leans over the desk, offering a hand. Scarecrow takes it without a second’s pause, plastic clicking against Spinner’s scales. “Welcome to the Support Regiment.”

———– ———– ———– ———–

I’ll have some links up about things here when I post this to AO3, but in the meantime, Scarecrow--whose condition at birth was called amelia--wears a hood not because he’s embarrassed of a bug face, but rather because he’s embarrassed of the way various surgeries to repair cleft palate and cleft lip have left his face looking. He’s much more confident in showing off his meta-ability than what he thinks of as his disability.

Scarecrow is also vaguely modeled on an insect called a webspinner, a tiny little bug that lives in big communal web “galleries” and has the unusual feature of its silk production apparatus being located on its front legs rather than the base of its abdomen like spiders. The choice felt appropriate for an unusually tiny cult member with top-mounted spider legs.

#MLAweek2020 #meta liberation army #iguchi shuuichi #spinner #spinner bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #my writing #ficcing #my hero academia #plf advisors

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brucewaynehastoomanykids · 4 years ago

Text

Ideal Night

Request from @ravenfan1242 : "I would love a story where Superboy moves into the tower and Damian is struggling with his feelings for Raven. Con who flirts with everyone thinks Raven is absolutely beautiful but she has such an opposite (he might say frigid) personality. Until she helps him with something deep he struggles with and all of a sudden Damian has competition. And hilarity and make rivalry ensues. But Raven also has strong, hidden feelings for Damian."

_____________________________________

"Chin up, princess, or the crown slips." A voice purred above me.

I mentally groaned as I closed my book and looked up at the boy hovering over me. "You really are just so infuriating, Connor." I say plainly.

Connor only smirked. "Missing something?" He said, pointing next to me.

I looked down to see that my phone had been snatched from my side. I was surprised I hadn't noticed its absence, but then again, it's not like I was very attached to it, and I was a little too invested in my book.

I thought back to what Damian had told me just a few days ago after I had accidentally dumped into him in the hallway leading to my room: he had told me that, when I wanted to be, I wasn't very observant of my surroundings. I had thought he was just being bitter that I had bumped into him, but now I suppose he was right.

Oh, there I go again, thinking about Damian. I think I'm only now starting to fully come to the realization that I have feelings for him. Of course, I can't act on them, Damian obviously seems to feel the complete opposite with his judgemental remarks and slight glares in my direction. Though it will admit, there is something a little off with his inner emotions, like he's struggling to realize something. I try not to pry too much into people's emotions without their permission, but with him, it's sometimes unavoidable. His emotions and thoughts are simply too loud to ignore at times.

But even so, if I could act on my emotions, how would I even do it? I've never felt something like this before, and if I'm being honest, it's a little frightening, because part of me doesn't know how to handle it... which leads me to the question of should I even act on my emotions if that's the case? What if I do and I lose control? Ugh, enough of that now. Just see what Connor wants.

"Can you please explain to me why my phone is gone?" I asked with a cocked brow.

Connor let a small, devious smirk form across his lips as he held said cellular device up and waved it slightly. He leaned his body over the couch, wrapping his arms around me and holding my phone to my face.

"I was just gonna be like 'hey, can I take a picture of you,'" he unlocked my phone to a rather embarrassing photo of me from the day prior. I had fallen asleep reading, my head rested on my palm, mouth slightly ajar as my book seemed to slowly fall from my lap, "But I couldn't wake that cute little face of yours."

I raised an eyebrow once more. "And you couldn't have just taken this photo on your own phone because...?"

"I need a favor and I knew you wouldn't do it unless I blackmailed you." He pulled the phone away and set it in his pocket. "See, I got that picture set to post to social media with just the touch of a button. But if you do me a solid, beautiful, I'll give you both your phone and delete the picture."

Curse Garfield and Jaime for showing him how modern technology works. I couldn't just let this side, I should try to get out of this.

"Or I could just grab my phone from you and delete it myself."

"Ahh, see," he wiggled a finger in my face, "I knew you'd try something like that. Which is why I also have this on my own phone. The same phone that I actually don't have in the Tower at the moment for this particular reason."

I rolled my eyes. I was getting tired of his games. "If I do whatever you want will you please just leave me alone?" This earned me a goofy closed smile and a nod. I sighed. "Well, what is it?"

It was then Connor's face changed from its usual playful expression to a serious one. "I've been living with this nice couple, Jon and Martha Kent, for a while now..." he looked down at the ground, seeming a bit embarrassed of what he was about to say, "I wanted to let them know how thankful I was for them letting me in like I was their own son, so, I planned a dinner... and I, um..." he rubbed the back of his neck, "I kinda told them you were my date."

I sighed, holding the bridge of my nose between my fingers. Sure, I was shocked, but I also remembered who I was talking to, so it wasn't as large as a surprise.

"Why in the world would you tell them that?" I scolded.

"Because I think it should be true." Connor purred.

I rolled my eyes. "Pass. Post the photo if you'd like, and take my phone." I began to pick up my book and continue to read before a hand took it from me, I sent a glare in Connor's direction.

"Oh, come on, Rae, just pretend to be my date if you have to, please!" He pleaded.

I let out a sigh in defeat, seeing that it was obvious I wasn't going to get out of this any time soon. "Fine."

Connor's usual childish grin returned as he began to happily walk away, returning my book to me. "Great! Be ready by 6, babe!"

I cringed at the name, but I couldn't help but admit this dinner is a very kind and humble gesture to his semi-adoptive parents. I had never thought to see Connor this way, honestly. It was a nice side of him to see.

I grabbed my discarded book and began to resume my place in it when I heard the doors to the main area open again. This time, it was Damian, who had seemingly just finished his usual training session, judging by the sweat on his face and the water bottle in hand.

"Superboy seems to be somehow more unbearable than usual today," Damian commented once he had noticed my presence, "as I was leaving the training area, he had this stupid smile on his face as if he had just won all the wealth in the world."

Damian came and sat next to me as I chuckled slightly, setting my book aside, "Well, that's probably because of this stupid favor I'm forced to make for him."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "Favor?" His voice laced slightly with anger. I couldn't understand the reasoning behind the sudden temper, but I decided to ignore it.

"To make a semi-long story short, Connor wanted to have dinner with Jon and Martha Kent as a thank you for their kindness towards him this past year, and..." I let out a long sigh, "and I am his date."

Damian's eyes widened for a moment before returning to normal. I could feel his aura shift from it's usual state to something more mellow and... sad? Surely he wasn't actually upset by this, I must be going insane.

"I see," He said plainly, "I hope you enjoy yourself, then." His response came out slow and calculated, and it didn't match the emotion his inner self was feeling. Maybe he had forgotten I was an empath. Either way, my abilities have often made him out to be a bad liar, even though I rarely call him out on it to save the drama. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he walked away without a second glance, his body tense, and his head lowered.

The evening came and went. Jonathan and Martha Kent were two of the kindest souls I have ever laid eyes on, I couldn't help but smile in their presence. Though, it was strange to pretend to be interested in Connor, especially when the question 'is this your girlfriend' came up. But, I will admit, I enjoyed myself. I never thought I'd see the day I actually enjoy Connor's company as much as I had tonight, but I suppose even the impossible can happen.

We flew home in silence for a moment before Connor began to speak.

"So... that wasn't too bad, right?" He asked shyly.

I smiled. "No, no it wasn't, I really enjoyed myself."

He let out a breath. "Good, good. Remind me when we land I'll give..."

I looked next to me to see Connor was no longer flying beside me. He had stopped to look at the night sky. Dozens of stars danced and winced at the world below. This high above ground, you could see all the colors the stars had to share. Some green, some blue, white, yellow, and so on. It truly made the night sky a beautiful sight.

Connor let out another sigh. "This is just perfect, y'know? Is this Heaven? 'Cause it feels like Heaven."

I giggled playfully. "I suppose with me here it would make it more like Hell."

He let out a laugh. "Oh, so the 'daughter of darkness' does have a sense of humor. I'm shocked."

I rolled my eyes. "And it is a real shame nobody asked for that opinion." This earned us a shared laugh.

"Listen, Rae..." Connor's voice suddenly became serious, "before we actually head back, there's something I need to tell you..."

I turned my body to face him, giving him a worried expression. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing wrong per se, it's just... the real reason I made you come to this dinner was for you to see that I, um... well I actually have a bit of a crush on ya, babe. I-I mean, I know I flirt around and stuff but there's just somethin' about you..."

I huffed a smile, attempting to lighten his nervousness. "Crushing hard I see..."

"You have no idea... it's just weird, you see. 'Cause, and I mean no offense, honestly, but you're not usually my type to go for a serious relationship. Our personalities are obviously a little more than opposite, but that somehow makes my feelings stronger, I guess..."

I let out a laugh, "Trust me, I'm shy and antisocial at first, but I feel as though I do the stupidest things when I'm around someone I'm comfortable with, I just try to contain it as best as possible for... reasons..."

"In any case..." he grabbed my hand, "I just want it to be you and me against the world, babe. So, do you... maybe, wanna grab a coffee sometime? Y'know... have a real date?"

I let out a sigh, releasing his hand and flowing away from him slightly. "I would, but there are other factors in the way. The first one being... well, there's no easy way to say this without hurting your feelings... I have feelings for someone else."

"But let me ask you this beautiful: do you think you have a chance with me?" Connor looked at me with determined eyes.

"Honestly, Connor, with how you've been acting lately... I do see a relationship with you working... sure you can be annoying and flirty but looking past that side of you, you're very caring and sweet." I smiled.

"Well, then my advice to you is this, Rae: if you love two people at the same time, choose the second because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second."

I let out a small groan, putting my head between my hands. "That's the thing, Connor. While I am starting to develop some sort of feelings towards you... I don't necessarily love you. And this person... I definitely love..." I turned to face Connor once more, "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression on that regard... but that's not the only factor. The factor of all factors... the reason I can't pursue a relationship with either of you, is who I am. My powers, while can be a blessing and a curse, are too powerful to not be handled with delicately. They are fueled by my emotions... and if I happen to feel too much--"

"Boom..." Connor finished sadly, "Look, I understand, Rae. It's just... are you doing this for the protection of me and this mystery guy, or for yourself? Is this something that you want to do? Because the way I see it, if you really love this guy, you'll make the sacrifice for him."

Connor reached into his pocket, pulled out my phone, and deleted the picture before returning it to me.

"Just... think about it, alright?" Connor said, beginning to fly away from me. "I'll meet you back at the tower..."

I watched as his figure disappeared from my eyesight before heading off myself. I felt guilty. I hurt Connor, I know I did, and I couldn't help but feel bad about it. He didn't deserve it... he just wants love, too... though, I couldn't help but wonder if he were right about me having to make the sacrifice for Damian. Though, I decided I shouldn't think about it now, and began focusing on making my way home.

When I had arrived back at the tower, it was late at night. Damian seemed to had just returned from his usual nightly patrol around Jump City. He was still in uniform, mask, and everything. He sat on the couch as if he were waiting on my arrival like an angered parent who just caught their child sneaking back into the house. Though, essentially, that was what I was doing. Still, it didn't explain his angered expression.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked quietly, afraid to wake anyone nearby.

"You and Kent seemed to be rather close this evening. Anything you care to share?" He raised an eyebrow through his mask.

"The better question is why the hell where are you stalking us? Wait, how did you even stalk us? Connor would've heard your heartbeat." I furrowed my eyes at him.

He matched my expression. "I kept my distance for that same reason."

His response only really ticked me off more, but I decided it would be better to keep my cool and answer his question. "No, Damian, I have nothing to share with you."

Silence filled the room for a moment before Damian seemed to finally snap.

"Why the hell would you go through with his nonsense, Raven?!" He yelled, standing from his seat and turning his whole body in my direction.

I remained blank-faced, nonetheless. "It's not like he would leave me alone until I agreed anyway, after all, it's people like him that deserve a high five with a chair... but maybe I just wanted to go with him, since when is that such a crime?"

"It is when you don't even like him!"

"Could you refrain from yelling, people are trying to sleep, you know."

"I'm not yelling, I'm discussing with you!"

"Yeah, with a loud voice. That means your yelling... oh, for the love of--just tell me what your problem is, Damian?" I said, putting a hand on my hip.

He lowered his tone. "Nothing's wrong."

"Obviously there is or else you wouldn't have followed us, and you wouldn't be freaking out the way you are."

He let out a loud groan, grabbing strains of hair between his fingers. He paced the room like this for a moment before dramatically bringing his hands down and yelling, "I really like you!" His eyes widened in what seemed to be shocked at himself and his own words then, "Um... I didn't mean to blurt it out like that."

I looked at him with my own sense of shock. "There's no way that's true, Damian." I awkwardly let out a laugh.

Damian sighed and walked up to me, his eyes softened. "No, no, it's true. I've loved you ever since I got to know you, I just hadn't fully realized or accepted it until recently--and even if you don't feel the same, I'm willing to accept that, too. But the truth is, I think about you all the time, and I have these feelings that I still don't quite understand about you, it's freaking annoying, to say the least."

I smirked. "Well, I'd hate to be such an annoyance to you, Damian."

He rolled his eyes. "You don't have to be sarcastic about it."

I shrugged. "It's recently kind of my thing."

He closed his eyes tight and sighed out a loud 'anyways' before opening his eyes back to their soft state. "I'm obviously not the person you want in your life... but you should know I'll still kill him if he hurts you."

"Yes, you are!" I assured him quickly before he could walk off. "When I was with Connor earlier, I admit, I had a good time, and I got the privilege to see a side of him I never see... but when he admitted his own feelings to me, I turned him down because I simply don't love him, but I do love you."

Damian smiled. It was then I realized how much his aura made sense. He was conflicted over his feelings, and now that he's not? It glows and shines again like nothing ever happened.

He closed his eyes and leaned. I panicked and backed away from him. "Which leads me to the next reason I turned him down... and will more likely be the reason I turn you down: my powers, my abilities... they're uncontrollable if I feel too much. I've been forced to live a life of mellowness all my life, and to suddenly change that now for love? An emotion I still don't quite understand? It's too risky... and I'd never forgive myself if I accidentally hurt you or anyone else with my own emotions."

"Raven," Damain came at me with a soft, reassuring tone, "you tell me you don't understand the feeling, but neither do I. We both need to figure things out for ourselves and who better to do it with than with ourselves. I don't know much about love, or romance, but I do know, from both watching Grayson and my own mother flaunt over my father, that it does demand sacrifices and risks."

It was then I had remembered what Connor told me before he left: "... are you doing this for the protection of me and this mystery guy, or for yourself?"

Both, I decided. I don't want either of them to get hurt because of me, but it's my own fears that cause this want to protect them. Fears of what could happen to me, and my team.

"Is this something that you want to do?"

No, absolutely not. I want to love, I want to feel love and to be in love.

"Because the way I see it, if you really love this guy, you'll make the sacrifice for him."

And so I will, Connor. Thank you.

I looked at Damian once more with a small smile creeping on my face. "Alright, Damian. Let's take a risk."

Damian smiled a rare, almost goofy smile. "Well, if that's the case, I should court you formally:" he cleared his throat, "Do you want to--I mean if you're not busy... go get lunch tomorrow? Or even just coffee this morning, if you want, or--"

I placed a hand over his mouth. "There's no need for courting, but your answer is still a yes," I removed my hand, "and I have a feeling we should kiss now."

And, of course, that's exactly what we did. A few household items began to float above their original place, but we didn't care. In the end, it was an ideal night.

_____________________________________

So I know that this was more Conrae than it was Damirae but whateves I really liked writing this one.

Also sorry for the late updates. For some reason, my Wattpad decided it just wasn't gonna let me write for a few days and I felt like it wasn't fair to post on here and not there. Anyways, just got it working again so we'll see how long this lasts I guess.🤷🏻‍♀️

#dcamu #dc #dcfilms #damirae #demonbirds #damian wayne x rachel roth #damian wayne x raven #rachel roth x damian #damian x rachel roth #damian wayne #damian al ghul #robin #rachel roth #raven roth #raven x damian #raven #damian x raven

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trans-axian-archive · 4 years ago

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OH yeah i def agree w you, i just wasnt thinking abt tht atm. Like, someone may see wwx as, idk, more annoying than he actually is and im just OkOk cool cool, ur literally wrong but whatever, i just move on from tht bcs its not that serious. But then some ppl make wwx say some weird innuendo shit to a junior and its like, why. why did u think it was a good idea for a grown ass man to do tht to a teen? why do you think its ok? it makes some kids think its ok for adults to do tht when its Not

YEAH in my post I mentioned how much of an issue that sort of characterization/content is in the context of depicting mlm, but it really is also a big issue when it comes to the children who will see those types of posts

like first of all its just... uncomfortable to view as a teenager. even though I'm technically an Adult, I'm still a teenager, and reading about a grown adult saying weird shit to teenagers just makes me uncomfortable As a teenager. and I imagine it's much more uncomfortable for teenagers even younger than I am and closer in age to the juniors

coming from someone who Grew Up On The Internet and grew up in fandom (god I hate that fucking word), I can say that seeing those types of things and other similarly harmful behavior in fanworks definitely had a negative impact on me and how I saw the world as an impressionable CHILD. I know I'm really not that old at 18 and there is a lot more growing and maturing for me to do but.... I cannot stress enough just how Young 13 and 14 and 15 year olds really are. you feel so mature because you're a Teenager now and you're in Highschool and all that but it really is so young. this is not meant to be patronizing or invalidating, I know how frustrating and hurtful it is to know that you're mature and capable but still have adults treat you like shit and not take you seriously; this comes from a place of care and respect and acknowledgment that kids that young are exactly that - kids, and they deserve to Be kids and be innocent. they shouldn't be exposed to that sort of thing and those sort of jokes and have that kind of behavior normalized to them. being a kid and being innocent isn't a bad thing and you shouldn't let Anyone convince you otherwise - cherish and value being young and silly and immature, it really is a wonderful thing. you will miss your ability to be completely carefree and childish

and like I said, that kind of shit changes the way you view and interact with the world as a young impressionable Child. and as you mentioned, that sort of thing will start to make kids think its okay for adults to treat them and interact with them that way. I can't even describe how much seeing certain tropes depicted over and over again and normalized fucked up my perception of myself and the world and other people. I thought and said and liked weird shit and wasn't critical because I was fucking 12 and 13 and 14 and all of these adults around me on the internet were doing it and said it was okay and made it popular and normalized and I had no one to tell me that No, those things Aren't okay. if you're 13 or 14 or 15 and everyone's constantly making jokes about your favorite character in your favorite book/show treating people your age in a weird uncomfortable manor, over time and after its been normalized so much, of course you're gonna start to think "oh... okay. this is just how adults interact with minors and there are posts saying its funny when this character that I like does it so it's okay!"

idk its just.... I've seen many posts talking about this kind of thing in a broad and general sense but I've never seen it brought up in the mdzs fanbase where I Know that its a big issue. such a large part of this fanbase hold and express incredibly harmful opinions and ideas, many of which are about sex and sexuality, and its just So widespread and normalized. this is about So Much More than just weird posts about wei wuxian making uncomfortable comments and jokes to the juniors, this extends far past that to much more harmful and insidious content

I know that many of my followers are young teens and it just scares me how much gross weird shit they have or will be exposed to in this fanbase. it disturbs me that so many of those young teens have read the novel and been exposed to its harmful content, content that no child should be exposed to. of course kids n young teens will read or watch or play whatever they want and being told something is too mature for them will not stop them from doing that (might even make them want to do it more), and I believe what mature things kids and young teens should be exposed to is situational, but it is the responsibility of adults in fanbases to, at the very least, make this a safe and respectful place for them. kids will, unfortunately, find media they shouldn't find, but we as adults should make sure that the spaces they come to after they consume that media don't expose them further to things they shouldn't be exposed to, and make sure they know what kinds of things are harmful and unacceptable

#OKAY PERHAPS I GOT A LITTLE CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS ONE BUT I am in a ranting mood 😔#wei wuxian #mdzs #the untamed #ask #anon #ghost posts

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roadtohappy · 4 years ago

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Why I detransitioned

I mentioned it briefly in response to someone else’s post, but I believe this subject deserves a post of its own. It included the statement: “I detransitioned because my identity changed, and I don’t regret my transition”, to which I expressed how much it resonated with me - and here’s why.

I was, I am, and I always will be transgender. As a young girl, I developed gender dysphoria. To anyone who’s unfamiliar with what that means, gender dysphoria is a term used to describe the emotional pain and distress a person experiences when their biological sex and their self-perceived gender do not match - a body/brain incongruence, if you will.

When I came out of the closet and told my family and peers that I identified as male, I had already spent a considerable amount of time contemplating my situation. I questioned myself constantly, and doubted every answer. I did this prior to, and after coming out, and even during my social and medical transition. Not because I was unsure of myself, but because I needed to know if there was any chance that my gender dysphoria could’ve been caused by something other than simply being transgender. It was important for me to unveil and deal with any underlying issues that could’ve been linked to my gender-identity, because it’s better to find out early on and stop before you find yourself overwhelmed with regret later in life if it turns out that you were actually mistaken. I asked myself the same questions constantly; “Am I being influenced by my peers? Media? Online communities?” “Is my brain using this as a defense mechanism to mask childhood trauma?” “Am I using my trans identity to escape from my past/present problems?” “Do I have any undiagnosed psychiatric or medical conditions that could alter how I perceive myself?” “Can I learn to cope with my gender dysphoria without transitioning?” “Am I trying to mend the absence of my father and lack of male role models by becoming male myself?” “Do I have any unhealthy ideas of what it means to be a woman?” “Do I have enough strong female role models in my life?” “Am I simply not ready to become a woman yet? if so, why?”

-These are all questions you should never ever be afraid to ask yourself, no matter where you are in your transition - whether you’re in the closet or out. Early, mid or late-transition; it is never a bad time to discover yourself and make the best choices for yourself, wherever they may lead you. This is not at all meant to discourage anyone from transitioning, but rather inspire people to ask them self the right questions.

As I mentioned in my introduction-post; I started living as a boy at 15, meaning I wore boy’s clothes, and went by a male name and male pronouns. I started taking male hormones when I was 18. If you’re unfamiliar with what hormone therapy does for trans people, it essentially means that you’re taking hormones regularly to induce a second puberty in order to bring on characteristics of your identified gender. I’m now 21 years old and I had chest-masculinization surgery 8 months ago. I never wanted to go any further than hormones and top-surgery, as my dysphoria mainly revolved around my feminine voice and other minor characteristics, and my breasts. The further I progressed into my transition, my gender dysphoria decreased, as you’d expect. After having my top-surgery, I also no longer feel dysphoric about my chest. To my surprise, I now feel completely comfortable with my natural body, including my femininity.

Early 2020 when the lockdown started, I began to spend more time alone by myself, going on long nature walks and exploring my thoughts through art and creative activities as a way to “unlearn” some of the unhealthy masking-behaviors I’ve taught myself over the years, in order to fit in better among other people. (Very common coping mechanism in autistic people, apparently.) As I began this process of “un-masking” I made it my top-priority to stop caring so much about what other people think of me or how other people expect me to look, talk and act. My new mindset became something along the lines of “Okay, the way my brain is built means that I experience the world and process information differently from other people, which also means that my actions and feelings are based on a different set of experiences than other people. I will no longer measure my worth by my ability to blend in and be ‘normal’, and I will no longer apologize for being different.” And so began a whole new level of self-exploration. I played around with some of my old make-up, I started taking up fun activities that most people would deem feminine - and it didn’t make me feel dysphoric at all. In fact, I liked it. I was unapologetically leaning into my feminine side and it felt good, it felt right, it felt safe - an experience I was never able to have before I transitioned.

When the semester came to an end a few weeks ago, I found myself in a weird position. I now have two completely empty months ahead of me, I truly detest big changes like that. A solid everyday schedule sort of functions as a mental “anchor” for me. Because no matter what happens in my life, I know one thing for certain; I will go to sleep tonight, wake up in the morning, do my morning routine and get ready, get the bus at exactly 7:41AM and arrive at school 10-15 minutes later depending on the traffic. I then attend class and adhere to the school’s timetables for the next 6 hours. I get the bus home and change into my uniform, work for 5 hours, go home and do my homework, make dinner, do something fun or watch youtube, go to bed - and the cycle continues. These little “anchors” make me feel secure and grounded, they help me cope with a world that can feel chaotic and overwhelming at times.

So last day of school arrives and I’m like “shit, what now?? One day I’m at school and suddenly there’s just *nothing* for two months?? Not only that, but I’ve just discovered that there’s a whole new side of me that I’m now free to explore since my gender dysphoria decided to evaporate into thin air.” Everything around me was changing, even myself - and that’s the moment when I decided that maybe it was time to give Testosterone a break. Whether temporary or permanently, doesn’t matter. It’s not like my body is going anywhere and I can always just resume hormone therapy again if I want to. But for now, it was time to just take a break, let go of everything and truly get to know myself. My transition is complete, and I am ready to continue this journey in a new direction. It’s been a month now, and I’m happy to say I’ve had a lot of fun just enjoying the time off and being my authentic self. I haven’t really told anyone I’m detransitioning. I’m just kinda doing my own thing, and if people want to run along with it and refer to be as female at some point then that’s their choice, I don’t really care to be honest. Name-wise, I might just jokingly suggest “Jane” when people ask, since it’s so similar to “Jake”. I get weird looks from people when I’m out in public, because I’m starting to pass as female again, but my voice is unmistakably masculine - I like my voice though, so I don’t care what they think. If people ask why my voice is so deep, I just tell them the truth: “I am a woman, but my body was testosterone-dominant for 3 years, hence the voice.” Simple as, lol. Not only that, but I am a whole, grown ass adult, I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.

On the topic of irreversible changes, there is one important thing that I cannot stress enough; My decision to detransition does not come from a place of regret, I have loved and cherished every step of this process. I’ve heard a lot of people say this about detransitioners but I don’t have “reverse-dysphoria”, why would I? Man or woman, I love myself and my body regardless. I absolutely needed to transition from female to male in order to be happy, I could not have attained this level of happiness otherwise. I would not have been able to accept or even come to terms with my femininity if I hadn’t transitioned. I’m still on the same journey as before, I simply took a new path.

Anyway, I best end this wall of text because it’s 3:00AM and I’m going on a 9km hike with a friend in the morning, I can’t waiiiitttt!

#detransition #detrans #detrans woman #ftmtf #autism #aspergers

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blue-eyes-and-auburn-hairr · 5 years ago

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Second Chances Chp. 3

Disclaimer: Okay, I got more notes than I thought I ever would, so while the world is quarantined...I wrote another part.

Warning: Mention of death, fluff, I don’t want to mislead anyone this will very much be a slowburn

Summary: Can you imagine being widowed at such a young age to a man you thought you’d have forever with? On the anniversary of his death, on top of a mountain, you and Chris begin your new journey together.

Staring up at the sky, watching the lantern follow a path across the stars while taking a piece of me with it. People say it gets easier, but that really has not been the case. Each morning I wake up and my mind slowly drifts to memories that I try and keep locked away and each night the nightmares and terrors of the aftermath play like a reel. I don’t fight them though, I think when they finally stop, it will hurt more. My therapist obviously disagrees with me and we have been working on this but, I am just not ready. My ability to compartmentalize is scary and unhealthy but its been working for the last three years. It is harder to keep the emotions in check on days when you feel like you are being smothered. The phone calls, the text, the Facebook posts and tags from both our family and friends. All of that is sweet and supportive and great, but too much. Another reason I like coming out here and sitting on our mountain looking out at the world.

I slowly turn around and watch as Chris is still watching the lantern on its journey, he makes eye contact and I force a half-smile. I see Dodger with his head down whimpering a bit, unaware of the circumstances but very much cued in to the emotions that surround him.

He returns the smile but it does not reach his eyes.

“Afghanistan, three years ago today,” I shrug not wanting to go any deeper, that’s enough of my past for one day. “That’s a story for another time preferable over some beers and a few shots,” another joke to cut the thick fog that surrounds us. Chris makes a move to reassure me, obviously feeling helpless at this moment. Dodger quickly gets up and sits down between Chris and I. He is facing Chris, watching his movements as though ready to defend me. I rub the top of his head letting him know that I am okay and so is the situation. “I’m okay boy, your pops was just trying to help,” I continue to stroke his head and then look up at Chris’ dumbstruck facial expression. “I...I have never seen him do something like that” he softly mumbled to himself and continues to look at me now with almost an expression of awestruck.

“That was beautiful, genuinely beautiful, is there anything else you need to do?” I gently shake my head not making eye contact the mixture of gratitude and shame is swirling. I feel the tears and thickness in my throat return and shake that off as well.

“We should start to head back then, it’s going to get dark and Dodger is such a baby in the dark,” He chuckles rolling his eyes.

It was only about a fifteen-minute walk back to the car, but he was right, the twilight sky would only last for so long. Packing up my bag and making sure that I had everything, I met the boys at the start of the trail.

“I am sorry if your hike took an unexpected turn,” I shyly shrug my shoulders “I feel like I owe you a beer or at least a meal to make up for that, I am usually not this grim of a person” I state trying to convince him and myself.

“Not a chance,” he says while reaching down to pull the twig out of Dodger’s mouth.

“I get it and I am sure you have to be up early tomorrow for your presentation and all,” I try not to sound as defeated as I feel.

“I meant, no chance that you owe me anything. It’s absolutely my treat, do you know of any good places around here?” I tried to read his face, looking for pity, but all I could see was compassion.

“There’s a nice pub a few miles away, small and simple,” trying to accommodate for him I also mention that there is patio seating that should fit Dodger’s fancy.

We reach our cars at the same time that Chris announces that he is sold on the idea and says that he will follow me. The emotions of all of this finally set in when I sat in my car. I had not felt anxious or nervous throughout our entire time together until the moment I was away from him. I pushed all of that, for the most part, away and tried to drive perfectly towards the pub. Chris turned in the parking lot after me and got out and put the lease on Dodger again. I finally saw my reflection for the first time in hours and cleaned up the tears stains that still traced my skin.

“I am not gonna lie, I honestly thought you were gonna keep driving when I pulled in here” I finally announce when I make my way over to his truck.

“Well now I am wounded Thea, wounded,” he states while dramatically placing his hands over his chest.

“It’ll buff out, I’m sure,” I say while bumping his shoulder and heading towards the door, I can hear him chuckling behind me.

I head inside and ask the bartender if there was room on the patio for us to sit and order some food and drinks. She says, of course, hands me two menus and says someone would meet us outside shortly.

I meet Chris back outside and he’s already made himself and Dodger comfy at a table. As I head over he gets up and pulls out the chair for me, which I know people roll their eyes at but I get a case of the butterflies every single time.

After some time an older woman makes her way over to us to take our order, Chris takes my suggestion on the burger and laughs when I get carded for ordering a beer. I roll my eyes and feel the blush creep across my cheeks. I dish it right back though and ask him when was the last time he even got carded, the squinting glare answered that question. The tension and awkwardness left and we slipped into casual conversation.

I think we talked for 2 hours straight.

We talked about everything and anything, it was so pure and real. My stomach started to hurt 45 minutes in from laughing so hard. “God, can you imagine growing up an only child or growing up differently than you did?” Chris asked me at one point, he was telling a story about his brother and neighbor daring him to jump from a roof onto a trampoline into a pool. He was proud to announce that he completely chicken out and thinks about how his life might be a little different if he followed through with it.

“My brother and sisters probably used to pray to be only children growing up, but I honestly couldn’t imagine it any other way. I never take for granted how close-knit we are and I continue to be thankful.” He continued to smile at me and stare at my face, which was sweet but also a bit concerning.

I whip at my face trying to see if I had something on it and ask him, “What? Do I have ketchup on my cheek or something?” He responds by rolling his eyes for the 39th time in the last few hours.

“Roll your eyes at me again! I dare you!” He scuffs and goes to roll his eyes again but stops halfway and just starts laughing.

“I just, I don’t want this to sound weird and freak you out.” He starts to rambles and it was cute but my god he was going to drive me crazy if he kept it up. I reach across the table and give his hand a squeeze in a comforting way.

“I just, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life” he looks down at his phone “when in reality it’s only been four hours. I know that sounds crazy because I don’t even know what you do for a living, but I feel like I already know ‘who you are’ if that makes any bit of sense. I am just having a tough time believing you are real.”

It absolutely did. It made complete sense and it scared me, but it also gave me another case of butterflies.

“I’m a teacher.” I took the easy way out not toughing the other topic just yet.

How does Chris respond? He rolled his god damn eyes again. With a retort of “Of course you are, why wouldn’t you be a teacher.”

“That’s it, Dodger, come here and take your human away from me!” I shout at the sweet boy just trying to take a nap. “Dodger that is the 40th time he has rolled his eyes at me, you need to take him home and teach him some manners please!” I huff sitting back into my chair and watching Chris explode with laughter.

“You are absolutely insane, I don’t think I have laughed this hard, for this long, in months. I am going to have a set of abs by the time this night is through.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at him.

“So what do you teach?” He finally asked me after his waves of laughter have turned into small chuckles.

“I am a middle school special education teacher” I state proudly. I truly love and respect what I do for a living and wouldn’t change it for the world.

Chris is just defeated by this point and just places his head in his hands shaking it back and forth. “You are really not helping prove that you are actually real” he mumbles into his hands.

“Says the famous actor I met while hiking a mountain and inviting me to dinner, I left the realm of reality hours ago” I smirk back at him when he finally pulls his face out of his hands.

The waitress walks over and asks if we need anything else. Chris holds up one finger to me seeing if I’m game for another round. “One more round please and two more glasses of water,” I ask while smirking at Chris. “Ohh also, can we get, I don’t know, maybe a to-go box of some sort that we can put some water in for the pup?” She nods and walks off while jotting it down in her little pad. She returns a few minutes later with all the check and drinks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to twist your arm or anything,” he says while leaning over and scratching Dodger’s head.

“Not at all, I just, unfortunately, have to drive home after this,” I say while shaking my head. “I normally cannot wait for this day to end, but today...meeting Dodger and I guess you..,” I smirk trying to make light of a tough sentence to put into words, “It really helped.”

“Well, I am just glad we found you.”

“Me too,” I say giving his hand one more squeeze before we get up and make our way to the cars.

Leaving the shot of Jameson sitting on the table, untouched, but always present, unquestioned but simply knowing.

I’ve never tagged anyone in a post before so let’s see if I get this right :) @chi00072 @capstopavenger

#avengers #chris evans #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #marvel masterlist #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #captain america x ofc #original female character #marvel #military #dodger

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queenitn · 5 years ago

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So...I just found something that I'd written one night at like 4am a month into lockdown.

It's pretty much a very unnecessarily angry rant.

I can probably contradict half the stuff I say in it myself. It's just...kinda rude in places and when I'm thinking straight there's some parts I don't really agree with myself. It's not aimed at anybody and I'm definitely a hypocrite but I'm gonna post it anyways so go wild I guess.

So I recently took a stroll through Stucky fanfiction on ao3. For a while there I'd been avoiding it, and I'd nearly convinced myself that my mind was exaggerating the whole bottom!Bucky/top!Steve thing but yeah, I'm not.

Normally, I'd say who tops or bottoms doesn't matter. It's pretty irrelevant. But... since the majority of the fanfictions clearly prefer to write bottom!Bucky, obviously, there is some significance. Wouldn't the proportion be more equal if it truly was irrelevant?

Besides being annoying as fuck, it's also pretty interesting I guess. I have nothing else to do so I'm going to be ranting about a lot of stuff.

So, I mostly try to look for bottom!Steve, right? Because that's what I like. I read a bottom!Steve fic, then I say, "Hmm, this author seems to like bottom!Steve, maybe they've written more?" I go check, and I find...mostly bottom!Bucky, with maybe one or two more bottom!Steve.

It's fine the first few times, but after a while it's honestly weird. Clearly, a lot of very good authors have no problem writing bottom!Steve. They just happen to write more bottom!Bucky. As far as I can tell, that's pretty much the common trend. But why? What exactly does one think while starting a new fic, going all, "Hmm...I think...this time.... we're gonna have bottom!Bucky again." Again and again and again until it's most times.

Why is bottom!Steve so fetishized? I don't mean the fics that actually have a dom/sub element. I mean just pure bottom!Steve itself. Why does it have to be some sort of rarity?

As far as I know, there's...really nothing in canon indicating who would likely top or bottom. (I mean yeah, I do believe that canon Bucky is more likely to want to dom than canon Steve, but that's different.)

So, what is it?

Sure, Steve is taller, has a deeper voice, more muscle, a beard....but those are just physical things. They don't actually have anything to do with taking or giving.

Besides, he used to be small before. Is that what this is about? Previously tiny man likes to be in control? Likes to...what? Prove he's a manlier man? Bullshit. Besides the fact that it's bullshit, it also doesn't seem to fit with canon Steve.

The "Sometimes I think you like getting punched" and the "And you've got nothing to prove" make me think that his proving himself had less to do with showing his dominance and more to do with showing his endurance. I'd say bottoming is exactly what he'd want to do.

Besides, wasn't that exactly what made his relationship with Bucky special? The fact that he didn't have to "prove himself" in any way? Bucky already knew his worth.

Is it because Steve likes to give orders? Some sort of "Oh, this guy was always meant to be the leader"? Well, there's a huge difference between being a leader, giving orders in a battlefield...and giving orders in the bedroom. And I'm pretty sure top/bottom preferences would be completely unrelated to who's the boss at work.

But nevermind that, as far as I can tell, sure Steve gives orders, but he also looks to the people he trusts for guidance. The best example is Nat. The thing that makes their friendship so goddamm precious is partly in the way he always glances at her for confirmation before making a decision. Isn't Bucky sort of like an Ultimate Nat with sex benefits?

Nevermind that too. Steve bossing people around is great, but that's not the point, is it? The point is does he enjoy it? I think, the only movie where he did look like he relished his power was TFA. I'm pretty confident that's because of the novelty of his new strength partially, and partially also because of the rush caused by his back to back successes. Why? Because he never seems to take that kind of enjoyment again. As opposed to...maybe Sam? The guy who gets his literal wings back after (presumably) years and lets out a whoop after being chased by the missile thingies. Sam's joy doesn't wear off. Steve's does.

Is it just me, or has this skew towards bottom!Bucky actually increased over the years? Why? I can say a few things on this.

First, maybe people need to remember a bit more that Sebastian Stan is not Bucky Barnes. Chris Evans is not Steve Rogers. And Steve Rogers is not Captain America.

No matter what you think about the actors, the characters they play are separate. Please.

Second, there is a very interesting theory that exists which says that the reason why Bucky is so popular in the fandom is because his character arc is relatable to women and the queer community in the fact that it's about him regaining his stolen agency. Which is true.

Does this have anything to do with him bottoming though? I mean, I don't know. Fanfictions are important because they allow us to explore ourselves, whether it's our sexuality or our trauma that we're trying to figure out. In that way, it makes sense that maybe we will tend to write Bucky as a bottom more often. Except no.

Partly because, having had bad experiences at a young age myself, and being queer myself, I do not relate to Bucky. And hypothetically speaking, I would totally bottom for Peggy or Bucky, but I would rail the absolute shit out of Steve. I canNOT be the only one.

Partly also because yeah, a lot of fanfiction is projection, which is good for the soul, both yours and mine, but not to the point where we create a fanon version of the character completely different from the canon one. Yeah, you could say that canon doesn't really give us much of a character, but clearly they give us something and we have to build up on that right? It's true for both Bucky and Steve. Bucky barely has lines, but his actions speak enough. There's an absolutely breathtaking character waiting for you in canon if you really want to look. As for Steve, let me just say, sass and the tiniest little hints of PTSD do not make a whole character. Marvel fucked it up, but this goes for the fandom too (this is keeping in mind that Steve technically has three movies dedicated to him and Bucky doesn't)

Stop treating Steve like your personal punching bag, Stucky fandom.

It does happen, if we project our bad experiences on Bucky, Steve often naturally fills the role of the clueless/mildly asshole-ish love interest. Not too much of an asshole though, clearly you love him.

That's fine. Fanfiction is about self expression, but should we lose sight of the canon characters that we loved so much in the first place? And isn't fanfiction just as much about exploring those characters, as objectively as we possibly can?

Another thing related to that...why do we only have to identify with one character? I don't know how to put this, but there's a thing called halo effect and I think that's kind of what happens (I'm not a psychologist).

You see something in Bucky. And then you start to attribute more and more things to him that may or may not actually exist. Like yeah, he's fullfilling the traditional love interest role in Steve's movies, but that doesn't automatically mean he's a bottom. The two things are... actually entirely unrelated. They're only related in your mind. And similar to that, when we see one thing in a character that we identify with, we kind of want to see even more things in them we identify with, but it doesn't have to be like that. That's not how any person works, and it's not how any fully developed character works. You can relate to both the characters in different ways, no need to dump it all in one.

Ok, another thing, that I don't like to think about but it's occured to me and I don't like it. So, Steve is generally coded as a bisexual, right? And Bucky is coded as gay. Look yourself in the eye in the mirror and think about whether you're unconsciously assuming that the bi guy isn't going to want to bottom. I'm a bisexual woman, I will top Steve. I kind of resent this.

Going off on another tangent, I have also delved into Stony on my quest for bottom!Steve. Pretty sure there's even less of that there. Why??? That's crazy.

Normally, I'm pretty sure Tony would be coded as the top. He's much older, richer. He clearly has control issues. That's one of his defining features. Control. (I don't mean that in a bad way.) So....what exactly do Bucky and Tony have in common besides dark hair and short hight? The only thing I could come up with was thotiness. They're both shown as Thots. Is that it? The Thot Bottoms? Ok.

Is it the whole energy thing? "Bucky has bottom energy"? Does he? Can you argue with me if I say that TFA Steve has bratty bottom energy? That TFA Bucky goes from service top energy to mean top energy? Pretty sure that's subjective. But what exactly are we seeing differently here? I'm honestly asking.

Bucky's character is ridiculously strong, stronger than Steve in some ways (besides probably physically). Specifically, it's because of his ability to not only survive, but heal. Can we acknowledge how crazy that is? He's just fucking buying plums, but that's still more than we've ever seen Steve do. You can say his trauma is greater, but it looks like his coping ability is greater too. So is that what this is? Steve doesn't cope. Instead he focuses on external things like being Cap, Hydra, Bucky. I wouldn't call that a healthy way of living...but it's romantic, right? Neglecting to take care of yourself? No, actually avoiding taking care of yourself by focusing entirely on another person? Is that it? We're romanticizing unhealthy behaviour?

Is it because you feel more for Bucky, wearing his hurt on his sleave, versus Steve who wears it hidden under his skin?

Am I allowed to believe that Steve's ultimate shield isn't the vibranium one, but Captain America himself?

That's just me getting off track and mildly pissy but the point stands. We like seeing Steve in control. He wears it well. He's good at it. But that's just not that relevant. You don't just boss poeple around in the bedroom because you're good at it, you have to want it too. Would he want it? Is a commanding voice really an indicator of a person's desire to command? Can we really say because he's usually the one giving orders (because that's his actual job), that he likes it too? Does he look like he especially likes it? No.

I've been around fandoms long enough to know that all fandoms always have a preference regarding who ultimately tops or bottoms. This isn't the first time it's bugged me, but it feels more this time because I just don't see it. And it makes me angry because it contradicts what I feel, are the best parts of the characters. No, Bucky bottoming isn't the contradiction..but all this that I wrote, the connotations of this kind of coding, the underlying thoughts.... some of it is just not nice, but some of it opposes the little things that humanize these characters. It wouldn't matter, except that it wouldn't have happened at all if it didn't matter.

It's not just what happens to them in canon that matters so much. It's also what they choose to do for themselves when they have the chance. It feels like they made their choices and half the fandom ignored it. "Nah man, you'll look better at the bottom. Look at that hair."

Because ultimately, that's what it feels like to me. A mixture of not thinking too much about it (though I know this post probably counts as overthinking), some wierd internalised heteronormativity, and I don't know what just kind of fucks with all of us. All I know is that I hate it. I hate it.

It's not the bottom!Bucky I hate, it's the underlying, unthinking assumptions. The way it's a foregone conclusion. It's not. I really just want to be able to read the goddamn fanfictions again without wanting to tear my skin off.

( You can help by giving reccs)

#steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #stucky

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