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shurisneakers · 3 years

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harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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A Little Braver - 17

So, as promised, part 17 is her.

Be prepared to submerge our bird boy with hugs, he will need them.

I promise the chapter will end in fluff and in a good note. The angst is only for the beginning. I need to douse it a bit since from ch 19 onwards the angst gremlin will be back with a vengeance.

I hope you will love it.

A big hug to all the people who commented, reblogged or loved this fic. Thanks to all of you.

A week had gone by and Aelin and Rowan had taken the official decision to try and go back and both deal with the mess of their lives.

The week had been perfect. Rowan had taken her hillwalking everyday and slowly she had started to feel like herself again. His presence had helped immensely. In a very short time he had become her rock. Full recovery was still a long way ahead but she felt better and with him at her side she had no more panic attacks or nightmares.

She felt sad at the idea of leaving the cottage in the mountains but they had promised to go back for some special occasion.

It was morning and Rowan was getting ready to go back to work. They had set a date for the inquiry on his student’s death and that would be the day.

For once Aelin was the one worried one. She could not forget his reaction to the movie or the night he came back drunk after Fuzzy’s death. She knew he had put up a wall but hoped he would at least let her in.

“What are you going to do?” He asked her while adjusting his tie.

“I have a meeting with Dorian and the counsellor and then I will pop in at the station and say hi to the squad and apologise.”

“Good.” His tone was detached and she moved a step to him and hugged his waist from behind “are you okay?”

He sighed “nervous. This will mean revive the entire accident over and over again.”

��Do you want me to come with you?”

He shook his head and kissed her “thanks for the offer but I will be fine. My squadron will be there and you have an important meeting as well.”

“Ok,” she wanted to believe him, but could not ignore his cold detached tone and Aelin had learned that it was his coping mechanism. He was not okay.

Rowan arrived at the airforce HQ and was met by Lorcan.

“Sir,” he stood to attention.

“At ease captain,” Rowan stood down from attention and placed his hands behind his back in a at rest pose “I am sorry it’s so quick. I knew you were coming back yesterday and I did manage to hold on until today.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Are you sure you are ready?” And for once Rowan heard concern in his CO’s voice “this is going to be brutal.”

“I know.”

“I am on the board too and we have Captain Walker from the 24th squadron and Captain Matthews from the 31st and two engineers. They have all copies of the inquiry sent to the board.”

“Who is the president?”

“Marshal Clark.” Said Lorcan in a preoccupied tone.

“Fuck. The man hates me with a vengeance.”

Rowan sighed again and sat on the bench just outside of the room used for the meeting.

His squad arrived a moment later and they patted each other’s back in support.

“We are all here.” Gavriel told him taking a seat at his side.

“Thanks everyone.”

One of the assistants appeared on the door and announced the board was ready to convene. Rowan quickly texted Aelin and switched off his mobile.

The marshal, being the president, was in the centre of the seating area. Rowan went to greet the other two captains with whom he got along nicely and had known for a long time. Then he went to the marshal and saluted as expected “at ease captain.”

Rowan went to his assigned seat and flipped through the folder in front of him. It contained all the documents they needed. His report of the accident, the reports from the engineering team and other supporting evidence.

Marshal Clark called everyone to attention and declared the board in session. He then proceeded to explain to the members the accident that had happened.

One of the engineers who had performed checks after the aircraft had been recovered was asked to present his findings “after the analysis of the recovered aircraft and after having studied the dynamics of the accident we have found out that the main cause for the engine failure was a disruption in the airflow in the port intake causing it to stall with enough yaw rate to induce a flat spin. Cadet Williamson, according to the records of the accident, flew in the jet wash of one of his classmate’s aircrafts. That caused the airflow disruption. The stall was unrecoverable.” explained the engineer reading from his report “with regard to the canopy, we have found a fault in some model of jets used by the students where the charges did not operate correctly, causing the canopy to separate incorrectly. All those planes are grounded and now being checked.”

“Thank you.” Said the marshal, then his gaze turned to Rowan “Captain Whitethorn, stand please.”

Rowan did so.

“Could you please re tell the board the events that lead to the death of the cadet?”

Rowan took a deep breath and retold step by step what happened. It was still vivid in his mind that it would take ages before he could forget it.

“Did you tell the cadet to eject?”

“I did, sir.”

“Why?” Asked the marshal with inquisitive tone.

“He had lost control of the aircraft. From the black box retrieved from his jet he had pulled 9g after he started spiralling. From my position I could see that he was about to pass out. Ejecting the seat had been the safest option. Little did I know that the canopy would fail.”

The two other captains nodded in agreement, knowing full well that they would have suggested the same thing.

“Would the cadet have survived if he had more high G training?”

“Sir,” Rowan almost growled at his superior “his jet was under 9g for almost ten seconds before crashing in the water. Not even an experienced and highly trained pilot can sustain or survive that.” He breathed again “and you know better than me that centrifuge training can be done only with some weekly limits due to its dangers.”

“Had the cadets received basic procedures on how to properly eject and when?”

“Yes, sir. It’s one of the first things they are taught. They are shown how to properly deploy their parachute and how to blow the canopy. Training is also done in different conditions to simulate possible combat scenery.”

“Training was not the issue here,” said Lorcan going in Rowan’s support “Captain Whitethorn is one of our most experienced instructors and hundreds of students have survived his crushing training and are still alive today because of what he has taught them.”

“The post mortem also backed the cause of death in the crash of the body against the canopy.” Added captain Matthews.

“What kind of training were you doing that day?” The marshal continued, ignoring the protests.

“We were going through some basic dogfight routines. The cadets were only five months out of the academy so we were just covering the basics as per fighter school curriculum.” Answered Rowan who felt lost all of a sudden.

“Would the manoeuvre you had practiced put the boy in a position to be in another jet’s wake? Didn’t you teach them how to stay away from the jet wash of another aircraft during a dogfight?” The marshal had an agenda, that was very clear to Rowan. He was trying to blame this on him.

Captain Walker stood angrily “why are we attacking captain Whitethorn? The problem was that the engine stalled due to the jet wash from another aircraft. An experienced fighter might have been able to find a way out of such deadly spiral, the gods know I have found myself in that situation and got out of it by pure damn luck. Not a cadet five months out of the academy. It’s our job to teach them such manoeuvres but only after they have mastered the basics.” He sat down again nodding at Rowan.

“A good instructor would have taught his students how to fly in close formation and to avoid the wake of a team mate. A captain should know what such manoeuvre could cause.” Continued the marshal who had taken the fight to Rowan.

Lorcan stood angrily “That is enough.” He shouted.

“I would suggest you to sit down, Air commodore.”

“Not when you accuse my best instructor of being the cause of the death of a student.”

“It is my job as president of this board to try and figure out what happened.”

“I told two of my students they were too close. I advised another one not to drop below hard deck. I care about the safety of my students.” Rowan almost growled at the marshal “also, I stand by my decision to order cadet Williamson to eject. Had the canopy worked he’d be alive now.”

The marshal nodded and with a bored expression he then went back to the engineering team and they discussed the canopy issue.

Rowan let them talk and his brain disconnected completely and tried to ignore the pain from what had just transpired.

He sat in silence listening to the rest of the board discuss in the background.

The marshal eventually called the board to attention “Following the evidence provided by the engineering team and the testimony of captain Whitethorn I declare that the death of cadet Williamson was caused by the port engine stall due to airflow disruption in the intake. The commission also noted that the flat spin in which the cadet went in was not recoverable. Captain Whitethorn is cleared of any faults.” Rowan noticed the disappointment on the man’s face for the fact the had been cleared of any faults.

The marshal then turned to Lorcan “Commodore, I expect you to keep the students grounded until the training jets have been fixed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The board is dismissed.” Clark stood and walked out.

The other two captain went to Rowan “I had no idea the bastard would try to blame you for this.”captain Matthews added with fury.

“I would have told my students to eject as well. It was the only option.” Added captain Walker.

But Rowan was not listening. It hurt too much, knowing that someone had tried to blame the death of his student on him. That the marshal had to question all of his choices and possibly his training methods.

Lorcan and his squadron were at his side as soon as the room was clear.

“The arsehole has some guts.” Commented Fenrys but Gavriel elbowed him.

Rowan stood in a daze and left the room ignoring the voices of his team calling him.

Aelin’s meeting with Dorian and the counsellor had gone better than she expected. Thanks to Rowan she had been able to open up and talk to them about what happened and how she had been before her escape and what had prompted her to flee. She admitted to them her fears.

She felt much better but she had confessed that she did not feel ready to go back in action. She felt okay about going back to the station and work from the office but was not ready yet to be in a fire. She was still too scared for that and Dorian and the counsellor accepted her admission.

So they had agreed for a transition period. Aelin was told as well to attend weekly sessions with the counsellor to track her progress and her mental health recovery. She would be on desk duty for a while and after that, Dorian was willing to send her back out but just at his side in a fire emergency allowing her again to be close to the fire scene and if that went well they could work on a plan on sending her back in.

She had agreed with the final decision and had left the room with a smile and a light heart. She stopped in the corridor to check her phone but no news from Rowan. The meeting should be over by now. She hoped he was okay.

Happily she drove back to her squad and everyone was eager to catch up with her. Then Aedion stopped in front of her “never again,” he told her and Aelin went for a hug. He remained stiff for a moment, then his arms enveloped her in a bear hug “looks like your captain fixed you up nicely.”

“Hey, I would recover from anything if I had such man looking after me.” Said Ansel and everyone laughed.

“He has been nice to me.” But all she could think was his face from that morning.

Rowan had been walking without a direction for a while now. He felt as if he had lost his rudder, he had spent the last twelve years of his life working for people who had been ready to blame on him the death of a student. He looked at his uniform and for the first time since he had worn it he felt no pride in it. He had been so tempted to resign his wings on the spot. No matter that he had been cleared, it stung so much, even if it had been the opinion of one man.

It had been too much. He knew the marshal was never a fan of his. The first student he had lost had been his son. But at the time as well the board had declared it had not been his fault. It had been the pilot’s mistake. The marshal never forgave him. Seeing him again at a board for a student’s death he had probably tried to punish him for what happened to his son.

In the distance he spotted a pub and decided that a drink might help. He got in and sat at the counter and ordered a whisky, but once the drink was in front of him he could not drink it. In his current state he would spiral down again to the same level of self destruction of many years before when he lost the marshal’s son and he could not do that again. He could not put Aelin through that pain.

So he did the only sensible thing. He called her.

Aelin was in the common room with the squad and they were having fun and the guys were telling her about some of the calls they had and then they were teasing Luca and his upcoming exam.

She was about to tell them to stop picking on him when her phone went off. It was Rowan and her heart stopped.

She quickly left the room and went outside, sitting on the bumper of one of the engines “hey,”

“Hi,” his voice was low and flat and she feared for him.

“What’s wrong.”

Silence.

“Ro, are you okay?”

“No.”

Shit. She stood and started pacing “where are you?”

“At a pub.”

“Which one.”

He told her the name.

“I am coming. Just stay there.” And closed the conversation and almost laughed at the irony of the situation. A week before she had been at the receiving end of such conversation.

She ran back to the squad “guys, I need to go. Rowan. It’s not good. I just have to go…”

She didn’t even wait for an answer. She just rushed back to her car and drove to him. He did not sound drunk so maybe it was not all lost.

She arrived at pub not long after and stormed in. Rowan was sitting at the counter staring at a glass of whisky in front of him.

“Ro.” She walked to him and his green eyes fell on her. There was pain in them, so much pain.

“You are not drunk,” she told him.

“He ordered the whisky two hours ago and had been staring at it ever since.” Said the bartender.

“Hey,” she caressed his head and he closed his eyes at the touch “what happened?”

He shook his head “not here.” He stood and Aelin followed then came back and chugged down the abandoned whisky and went after him.

He was walking away and she ran after him “wait, you have long legs, damn you.” He extended an arm behind him and Aelin grabbed his hand “fine, we are outside, spill the beans.”

She definitely had no tact.

He walked silently a bit longer until they reached a small park and he sat down on a bench and Aelin took a spot at his side never letting his hand go.

And then he told her. Everything that had happened in the room. The results of the inquiry, the marshal’s accusations. The identity of the first student he had lost and his desire to quit.

“I wanted to throw my wings in the marshal’s face.” He looked down dejected “I feel lost now. I want to go back to my students, I owe it to them, to teach them how to be safe. But everything else… I don’t care about it anymore.” his head leaned against her shoulder and Aelin brushed his head with her hand and kissed it tenderly “Ro, how can I help you?”

Rowan turned his head to her and she thought his eyes were wet with tears “what you are doing just now is enough. Having you with me helps.”

“Do you need to go back to the airbase now?”

Rowan nodded sadly.

“Ok, I’ll drive you.” Aelin stood and Rowan followed but before moving he pulled her to him and drew her in for a kiss “I love you.” He said quietly.

She flicked his nose “let’s go.” She offered him her hand and together they walked back to her car.

They arrived at the airbase not long after “do you need me to come in?”

Rowan shook his head “my team is there. I will be fine. Gav will stop me from doing anything stupid.”

“Good. I am going back to the station.” She leaned forward to kiss him “Will you be okay? I am worried about you.”

“I am a big boy.” He joked.

“Ro…”

He leaned forward and kissed her “I do love so much when you call me Ro like that…”

Aelin smiled against his lips “don’t do anything stupid and tomorrow you can ravish me all you want. You can even be super creative.”

“How can I refuse such proposal?” He kissed her again “I will be fine.” His hand went to the door handle and opened the door “I will see you tomorrow morning at home. Have a nice night shift.”

Aelin’s heart swelled with joy at the word home. Their place. They hadn’t made it official but her house had become home. Their home. And she loved the feeling of it.

“Think creative, captain.”

He winked at her and left the car. Then he waved at her and Aelin left, he put his cap on his head and headed back inside the airbase.

Rowan made his way to Lorcan’s office and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came from inside.

Rowan entered the room and Lorcan looked up at him and he did notice the expression of disbelief in his CO’s face.

“Rowan —” but the other man stopped him.

“Thank you for today. For the support.” Rowan said quietly sitting on the chair in front of his CO.

“The man was out of line.” Lorcan growled “he knows what kind of instructor you are. How strict you are. The man was trying to get you sacked as a punishment for his son’s death knowing full well that again it was not your fucking fault.”

Rowan looked away, shutting away the painful memories.

“I already sent orders to start working on the canopies and check them all.”

Rowan nodded silently.

“I know what we can do to cheer you up.” Rowan turned his head staring at a surprisingly cheery Lorcan. Elide was really doing miracles.

“Grab you gear and let’s get out in the air, this man here needs to fly. It’s been so long that it’s a miracle I can still be called a pilot.” And he chuckled.

Rowan stood “Fine, be ready to be crushed.”

Lorcan grinned and stood as well “Oh, I submitted a proposal to allow women to serve in the airforce.”

Rowan’s head whipped to one side “who are you and what have you done with Lorcan Salvaterre?”

“The captain and Elide. Turns out we have both chosen very strong women.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.”

Rowan was doing his pre-flight checks when he noticed Lorcan joining him. The man had always exuded charisma.

“You should really send Elide a picture of you in a jump suit. I know how much Aelin likes it, I guess Elide might appreciate it too.”

Lorcan lifted an eyebrow while he reached his jet and popped open the canopy “you think?”

Rowan nodded “how is it going with her by the way?”

“She is incredible. She is tiny but fierce and stubborn and quite amazing.”

Rowan could not believe it, Lorcan was in awe of someone a feat that he thought was impossible.

“You are in love with her.”

“I think so.” said Lorcan hiding the words in a cough, almost embarrassed by his admission.

“Good.” Then he stared at Lorcan and he realised that going out out for a flight had been a good idea. They were evenly matched in skill and it was going to be a fun one. They had a few turbulent months but he had more or less always got along with him. Flying together again felt like the good old times.

“You missed a spot.” Rowan pointed at one section under the wing.

Lorcan replied with a middle finger and it felt nice to have their old banter back when Lorcan could finally put aside his CO mask for a while.

“I am not a cadet, I know how to do my pre flight checks.”

“Well, you are not following the order we were taught at flight school, cadet Salvaterre.”

“Stop being a smartass, cadet Whitethorn.”

Rowan climbed in his jet and finished his checks inside and communicated with the tower to finalise the flight plan and get the authorisations required.

“Come on Lorcan, you are so slow. Tower gave us the all clear and the flight plan is in. Are you sure you still remember how to fly? Do you need any pointers, Chaos?”

Chaos was Lorcan’s callsign and he had earned it very early in his career for his flying skills.

Eventually they were both ready and the two jets got taxied away and not long after they were in the air.

“Rules of engagement: anything is allowed and two out of three?”

“Copy that, Iceman.”

“Good, be ready to lose.”

The two jets broke apart and went in different directions and for a while they just ran in circles above the airbase to study each other.

Lorcan hadn’t wanted to admit that he was a bit rusty and Rowan was indeed a nasty customer.

Gavriel and the three young pilots were walking along one of the long corridors on the airbase when they heard the sound of jets in the air and ran to the next window to look who it was. The classes for the cadets were still grounded and the three of them were on ground.

“Holy fuck,” muttered Gavriel when he realised who was out flying.

He ran out to the viewing tower followed by the twins and Vaughan.

“Is that who I think it is?” Asked Connall speechless.

“Rowan and Lorcan.” The older man turned to the three young guys “you are in for a treat, they can make you feel like a newbie.”

Gavriel saw Rowan pull in a vertical and flying into the sun, roll on his back and continue in straight line flying just a meter above Lorcan, finally flipped his jet once again and placed himself at Lorcan’s six.

Lorcan tried some evasive manoeuvres but Rowan did not let go, always at his tail attempting to get a lock on his CO.

Lorcan felt trapped and as a last ditch he went into a high G barrel roll to try and shake off Rowan.

“Rowan is going to overshoot,” said Connall who was silently watching the dogfight between their superiors.

Then Rowan pulled a trick out of the hat and kept his jet in line with Lorcan’s then rolled and found himself upside down and fired at the other man.

“Holy fuck,” was Fenrys’ comment at the scene.

“What did just happen? How did he even manage that?” Added Vaughan.

“That is Rowan for you. Now you realise why we can’t ever win?”

“One nil for me, Chaos.”

“You are a sneaky bastard, Whitethorn. And where did you learn such manoeuvres?”

Rowan laughed over the comms “get your act together, Commodore, and you can probably get me.”

The dogfight between the two went on for much longer. Lorcan did manage to win an engagement but Rowan still won 2-1. They landed back and they found Rowan’s team waiting for them.

“Good to see you two flying again. The youngsters never had the chance to see the pros at work.” Said Gavriel relieved that the two men seemed again at ease with each other.

“Oh, yeah. Our dear CO was a bit rusty and I took him out to stretch his legs and I handed out his arse to him twice.”

Lorcan gave him the middle finger in response.

Elide was in the ambulance doing some inventory checks when her phone pinged. She opened the text from Lorcan and almost fainted on the spot. It was Lorcan in his jump suit beside his jet and the man actually had a hint of a smile on his face. The second image was of him and Rowan standing back to back, their arms folded at their chest and both had a goofy smile on.

She jumped off the ambulance and ran to Aelin who was in the equipment room checking out their gear “Ace, look!” She shouted as she stormed in.

“What?” And she looked at the two pictures on Elide’s phone.

“Interesting…” Aelin stared with curiosity at the picture of the two men.

“He is soooo hot, I have never seen him in a jump suit and gods I don’t know? Want to remove it one bit at a time?”

Aelin laughed “that’s what I would do to Rowan right now if we were together in a private place. I would peel that jump suit off him until he is naked in front of me.”

She saw Elide blush “Lorcan and I haven’t… passed the kissing stage yet. He has never touched me. He is very considerate of me. But a few times he hugged me and I… felt him.” And she made a gesture and Aelin understood.

“Elide that is normal. How do you feel about the next stage? Like exploring each other’s bodies?”

“As in naked?”

“Yes, but you can start with keeping your underwear to have a barrier on if it makes you feel better.”

Elide sat on the bench beside her “I don’t know how to do this. How do I touch him?”

Aelin could see panic rise in the woman “ask him to show you and then once you feel brave enough to try just give it a go. It can be quite fun.” Aelin stopped for a second trying to find a way to tackle the next issue “Elide, have you ever… you know… explored your body? Down there?”

Elide blushed savagely “no.”

Aelin took the woman’s hand “take a nice warm bath and then…” Aelin wiggled her fingers “just put a hand between your legs and see how it goes, what you feel.”

“Oh.”

“At least once you two take the next step you have an idea of how it feels.”

“And Lorcan does that as well?”

Aelin nodded “yes, and if the man is as good as the others claim he might leave you a satisfied mess just with his fingers or mouth or both. A sort of appetiser before the main course.”

“Do you and Rowan…?”

Aelin nodded “and not just him to me but me to him as well.”

“This sounds so much.”

“Elide, look at me.” Aelin placed her hands on the woman’s shoulder “you do not have to take the next step until you are okay with it. Talk with Lorcan. Explain to him that you are getting curious and want to try more. You can use a safe word so that when you start to become uncomfortable, you shout that word and he has to stop.”

“Oh.”

“He hasn’t rushed you or anything?”

Elide shook her head “no, he has been so understanding, and never pushed.”

“Good. You set the pace. You are the one who needs time so he adjusts to you, remember. But if you feel like you are ready for another step just tell him.”

“Is it… is it as good as everyone says? Is it worth it?”

Aelin nodded “with the right person is something incredible. The intimacy… the connection…”

“Do you have that with your captain?”

“Yeah, and some.”

“Uhhh… are we getting serious?”

Aelin looked away for a moment “I loved Sam. A lot. We were good together but it was never like this. Never this deep.” She threw her head against one of the jackets “I don’t know how to explain it but my feelings for Rowan are so strong that sometimes I feel like I can’t breath.”

“I want that too.”

A moment later the conversation was interrupted by Lysandra entering the room “Here you are, why are you hiding?”

Elide showed Lys Lorcan’s picture.

“Oh mama…”

“Elide is feeling… curious.”

Lysandra hugged the woman “that is wonderful, darling. With such a specimen I’d be curious too.”

“Lys.” Shouted Aelin laughing.

“What? Fine the man can be an arsehole but I can’t deny that in that picture he is one hot bastard.”

“Show her the other.”

Elide showed Lysandra the picture with both Rowan and Lorcan.

“Ok, I really need a cold shower now.”

“I am pretty sure Aedion is available. Just keep it quiet.”

Lysandra laughed “don’t you think I tried? He said it would be against the rules.”

“I am almost done with equipment checks. This room will be free soon.”

“You are a wicked woman.”

Aelin winked.

“Did you do it in here with the captain?”

“No, but his office is quite comfortable.”

“Nice.” Commented Lysandra.

Lys then took Elide’s hand “come on, we got a couple of things to finish.”

Once the two ladies left she phoned Rowan and he picked up at the first ring.

“I am jealous, Lorcan sent a picture of the two of you to Elide and I don’t get a copy?”

“You liked that?”

“You were both smiling.”

“We talked,” added Rowan “Lorcan was even more pissed than me. I think Elide did the miracle.”

Aelin laughed and relaxed at his admission “how so?

“He chuckled. Lorcan chuckled.”

She heard mirth in his voice.

“And the man is totally in love with Elide. I swear I never heard the man talk like that about a woman.”

“Interesting.”

“Also, apparently he has decided to support my idea of having women in the airforce and submitted a proposal to the higher ups and he is prepared to fight for it.” He told her, knowing she would love the news.

“Ok, I might finally start to like the man. What changed?”

“You and Elide apparently.”

Aelin smiled smugly “so he does listen, I am impressed. I don’t think I can cope with the idea of Lorcan not being the bad guy.”

“His job is very stressful and I don’t think I could be able to cope with the amount of shit he has to deal with.” He sighed “put me in a cockpit surrounded by enemies and I will be fine. But the idea of being stuck behind a desk playing the political game day in day out…. no. I will retire before it happens.” He added sadly.

“So, what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, captain?”

“I am helping him with a few things. Then do more prep work for our performance review.”

“Do you think you are ready for that?”

She heard a lot of noise in the background and she guessed he was back in the hangar.

“Aye, we are good to go.” He was silent for a moment “I have to go, Fireheart.”

“Sure. Be safe and have a nice drill.”

“I love you. Have a nice night shift.”

“Send me that picture, Whitethorn.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She closed the conversation and relaxed heavily. Rowan sounded so much better and she was smidge less worried. With a big smile she went back to her work.

It was past 9pm and Aelin was in her office working away on some paperwork Dorian had sent over. She had a good day. It had felt good being back and she realised that Rowan’s help and their time away had helped very much. She felt saner and being at the station did not cause any problems. She was not ready yet to go back fighting fires, of that she was well aware. That was the last challenge she had to face but she and Aedion had discussed a training regimen that would slowly allow her to find the courage again to go fully back on duty and she felt excited at the idea.

She had been so engrossed in her work she did not hear the knock on the door. When it happened a second time she slowly raised her head “come in.” She said flatly and almost annoyed.

A head of silver hair appeared on the door and she stopped “am I interrupting?”

“Of course captain. How dare you?”

He smiled and took a step in “I can go if you are working.”

Aelin rolled her eyes “get your arse inside and give me fifteen minutes of silence.”

He nodded and walked to her bookcase, giving her his back. His hand behind his back, his spine ramrod straight and his feet slightly apart in a perfect at ease position. She grinned. You could take the man out of the military but not the military out of the man.

She stopped working and rested her chin on her hands and a pen in her mouth. She studied him from behind and was impressed how still he could stay. A feat that had alway been impossible to her.

Rowan grabbed one of her manuals and started flipping through it. It was only fair, she had done the same to his flight manuals.

“A chemistry book?”

She eventually decided to stand and join him at his side.

“I hated chemistry in school. I was good at it but never liked it. I preferred physics.”

Aelin smiled and grabbed another book: fire science “this one might be more interesting.”

He had a look through it and smiled at her “can I take it at home or do you need it here?”

“You can take it home.”

Rowan smiled and placed the book on the sofa then cupped her face “hi, by the way.” And he kissed her.

“About time. I thought you were more interested in my books than me.” She teased him, pulling away briefly.

“You told me to stay silent for fifteen minutes. I was just following orders.”

“Screw that.”Aelin switched off her computer and walked to him, palm upturned, offering him her hand “follow me captain.”

“Do I need to be scared?”

She glared at him.

They walked along the corridor of the fire station and it was so silent and quiet compared to what he had seen during the day “where is everyone?”

“Resting. We got beds, you know? But Brullo and Ress are probably up watching tv as usual.”

They walked through the common area and as Aelin suspected the two guys were watching some series on tv.

“Hi guys,” she greeted them.

They raised their heads “hi boss,” then noticed Rowan “oh captain, you found her. Good.”

“When I walked in I announced myself. I could not just waltz in.”

“Come on,” she grabbed his hand. Aelin dragged Rowan to the area where they kept the fire engine and the truck. She moved to the engine and opened a door on the side and pulled out two thick blankets then with them under her armpit, she started climbing the ladder at the end of the rig “Come on captain.”

Rowan looked at her puzzled.“Where are you going?”

He saw her rolling her eyes “on top of the rig.”

“If the alarm—”

“Captain, if the alarm goes off we have enough seconds to get our arses back down. They will not drive away with us on top of the rig. Do you trust me?”

He looked at her in a strange way.

Aelin threw the blankets on the top of the engine and climbed back down and marched to him, grabbing his hand “move.”

With force she dragged him to the ladder and prompted him to climb. He did as ordered and once at the top he stopped. Aelin stopped behind him, then in a swift motion she pulled her leg over the engine rail and climbed on its roof.

She took the blankets and placed them on top of all the hoses “it smells a bit of smoke. You’ll get used to it.”

He climbed over and stood for a second admiring the view from on top of the engine. When he turned he saw Aelin laying down on the blankets, her arms extended to him and a goofy smile on her face. He joined her and took a place at her side.

She nested against his chest and his arms looped around her frame.

“I come up here a lot on a night shift. I don’t sleep, I just relax, I love to imagine I am laying on the grass and that if I look up I can see the stars.”

“I do that when I am on an aircraft carrier and I am not on standby. I just walk on the deck along the rail, although is not as quiet as here as there are still flights happening, but it’s less busy. I just lean against the handrail, near the island and look out at the sea and I my case I can see the stars.”

Aelin turned in his arms and faced him “can you navigate by just using the stars?”

“We don’t use it much, GPS is a very handy tool, but it’s a skill we learn in case something fails and you are left with no GPS or any other electronic help.”

“What about you? Had a good day at the station?” He kissed the top of her head.

Aelin nodded eagerly “yes, I admitted I had a problem out loud and both Dorian and Aedion have offered to help in anyway they can.” She looked up at him “and you… you helped so much… and still helping…”

He smiled tenderly “it goes under my job description for boyfriend, I assume?”

She caressed his face loving the sound of him calling himself her boyfriend.

“Say it again,” she whispered to him.

“What?”

“That you are my boyfriend.”

He went for a deep kiss “I am yours.”

Aelin smiled against his lips “those are powerful words, captain.”

“They are true, though.”

Aelin’s heart raced and her hand went to his chest and found his doing exactly the same.

“I love this. Us. I really do…” she stuck her head in the crook of his neck inhaling his scent “but it still scares me because it happened so fast. One day I wanted to punch you, the next I wanted to kiss you. And it frightens me. I want this to work. I want us to work out.”

His hand covered hers still on his chest “you are not alone. This is a lot for me as well. But I am done fighting my feelings.” He hugged her closer “I love you, even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”

Aelin kissed his chest “you are so cheesy it’s disgusting.”

Rowan pushed her away and she rolled on her back at his side, her hand still in his “I was trying to be romantic and you ruined the moment.”

She smiled “sorry, I used to do that with Sam all the time. He would say something super romantic and I would respond with a joke. When he proposed I replied that I had to check with my lawyer first.”

“You are a brat.”

“It was so funny. Then I texted him and said that my lawyer had agreed.” Aelin brought their twinned hands to her mouth and kissed them “I showed him later on that night in bed how much I wanted to marry him. He did not complain.”

“You really are a handful.”

“I know, but now you picked me and there is no turning back.” She said against their hands fearing she had gone too far.

“I love a good challenge.” He rolled over and was now half on top of her, his hand on her side caressing her gently.

Aelin grabbed his face in her free hands and kissed him stupid but Rowan pulled back when he remembered where they were. He was still terrified they would drive away with the two of them on top of the engine.

He lay back down and his hand started trailing along her injured arm exposed by the short sleeved shirt. The burns had healed but the skin remained marred. He traced the length of it and leaned over to kiss it.

“Does it bother you?”

“No,” he said softly while continuing to kiss her injured arm and her scars “you are my brave and fierce Fireheart. It scares me that I almost lost you. But you scars…” another gentle kiss “they don’t bother me.”

She snuggled closer and he enveloped her in his arms.

“I forgot.” He propped himself up on one elbow “I have received an invitation.”

“Oh?” Aelin did the same and faced him.

“This weekend the navy is throwing a launch party for the new aircraft carrier, down at the dockyards before she is set at sea for the trials and then off to deployment.” He explained “Me and the guys have been invited and I can bring a guest. Fancy being my plus one?”

“Are we going public, captain?”

“If you want to.”

Aelin thought about it “I could wear the stunning black dress I bought in Doranelle.”

Rowan remembered that dress and the effect it had on him when she wore it in the shop.

“Are you trying to give a heart attack to the whole Terrasen military?”

Aelin giggled “just going to show all those posh boys what an amazing taste in women you have.”

“That I do.” He flicked her nose.

Aelin was about to reply when dispatch alarm went off and she bolted on her feet and pulled Rowan up and grabbed the blankets “come on, captain.”

She climbed down super quickly and by the time he made it down, the blankets were back in the truck and the squad was getting ready to go.

“Showing the captain your special spot?” Joked Aedion.

Aelin nodded and patted his shoulder “keep the guys safe and you stay safe too.”

“Always.” Quickly Aedion ran to the truck and a moment later the squad was gone.

“It’s hard to see them go and not being able to be with them.”

He pulled an arm around her shoulder “come, I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

She followed him “that’s exactly how you woo a woman, captain.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading

@tillyrubes10

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowanwhitethorn #aelingalathynius #elide x lorcan

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poplinn · 3 years

Text

@divine-buni ha risposto al tuo post: “ hello! I myself am not Jewish, and I was wondering why Jewish Medic is anti-Semitic? I'm genuinely asking, if it's possible that you could elaborate a bit more, please?”

Yes, I’d love to elaborate for you [and other people who’ve seen the post and aren’t quite sure what I meant]. Considering this post is going to be quite a long one I’ve put everything under a read more, but here’s a quick TL;DR

TL;DR:

Medic’s actions in Comic 6 contradict Jewish beliefs, therefore I find it disrespectful to our religion to HC him as Jewish.

Most people who HC Medic as Jewish are goyim, and portray him/Jewish beliefs/Judaism very incorrectly but don’t seem to listen to Jewish people who try to correct them.

All art i’ve seen of Jewish Medic so far feed into Antisemetic Stereotypes which is disgusting.

Jewish Medic only came into existence to counter the Nazi HC

People just don’t their research even though it’s not that hard.

Full explanation under the read more:

So before i start explaining why I think the Jewish Medic and its portrayals are anti-semetic I want to give a little background information. I myself am Jewish, I have been my entire life, and I’m a practicing conservative Jew. I go to the Synagogue and I have read the Tanakh [The Hebrew Bible]. Now I understand that the text may differ in some translations/interpretations of the original text. I also understand that some things are left a bit ambigious at times, meaning different people can have different interpretations of the same text. What I’m about to write after this is all part of my personal interpretations/findings of the Tanakh and what I’ve been taught. I, obviously, don’t speak for all jewish people out there, this is strictly personal.

Now, what I’ve always learned from reading the Tanakh is that the belief in demons and Satan [sometimes even angels] is often, if not all the time, rejected. There are no mentions of demons in the Tanakh, and Satan is not a demon. Think of it that Satan is more of a metaphor, and doesn’t exist in physical form. He’s more of an advocate or metaphor for having different opinions.

In Kabbalah Satan represents a sinful impulse a person might have[we’ve all been there], or a “force” that prevents us humans from submitting to divine will. The Devil doesn’t exists, he’s merely a metaphor for the bad stuff we have inside us, our sins/sinful thoughts. But physically? He’s not there.

It is also generally believed that Hell is...not a thing. It’s really more of a Christian thing to make people fear G-d. But what happens if we commit sins? Well, what I’ve been taught in my 20+ years of living is that when we die, we either go to heaven or go to purgatory. In purgatory you work off your sins for a set amount of time. This time differs per person depending on what sins you’ve committed and if you show remorse. But Hell itself does not exist at all.

Why does this all matter? When Medic dies he goes to Hell and meets the Devil.

The fact that this happens contradicts Jewish beliefs. I think that if you headcanon Medic as Jewish without taking this huge contradiction into consideration is very disrespectful of out belief. And mind you, all people I’ve seen HC Medic as Jewish are goyim. Medic meeting the Devil himself isn’t inherently antisemitic or disrespectful, considering Medic is not canonically Jewish, but headcanoning as Jewish is.

Then there are the portrayals of Jewish Medic in art. Now we all know what Medic looks like:

He’s a white man, with short black hair and a little flock of hair that rests on his forehead. All the art I’ve seen of Jewish Medic so far, and I mean ALL, feed into Jewish stereotypes. Curly black hair, really dark skin and a huge nose. I’m sorry but, since when is this okay?? [ I shouldn’t be one to speak on this considering I have black curly hair, tanned skin and bigger nose /joke ]. Not every Jewish person looks like this. If Medic were indeed canonically Jewish the way he looks is just...fine. A character doesn’t need to have black curly hair, darker skin and a huge hooked nose in order to be Jewish. It just baffles me that in the year of 2021 people still think doing this is okay.

And to add to it, like every other religion, in Judaism we also wear specific kind of clothing. The cloth and colour of our Yarmulkes all mean something, and to see this being portrayed incorrectly, by goy people nonetheless, it just bothers me a lot. It gets even worse that, when me and other Jewish people try to reach out to these artists and try to tell them nicely that they’re portraying our religion incorrectly that we 1. dont get listened to, 2. get blocked, 3. get dismissed.

To directly quote a message from a certain person I messaged about their Jewish Medic portrayal being incorrect: “I don't know how much I can say of Jewish issues considering I've never been connected to that part of my ancestry religiously or culturally.” Right after I explained everything to them, it’s incredibly dismissive in my eyes. You don’t need to be Jewish in order to understand Judaism or Jewish beliefs.

I feel like I’m kind of starting to ramble, so apologies if it’s a little less coherent, but....I also think the origins of the Jewish Medic are a bit...icky/weird/uncomfortable. I’m not sure what the right word is [apologies, English isn’t my first language].

Back in the day the Nazi Medic Headcanon was a thing, which is obviously problematic on its own. Some people, in response to that, wanted to counter this Nazi HC by making Medic Jewish. Because it was “fun and quirky.” Which is ridiculous. Our religion is not just something “fun and quirky” for gentiles to randomly use as a headcanon. I personally feel like gentiles take our religion serious because of that. Jewish people are not the direct opposites of Nazis. The world really isn’t that black and white / Bad vs Good. You don’t need to be Jewish in order to counter Nazis or be anti-fascism. If someone isn’t Jewish, it doesn’t make them a Nazi.

I don’t mind if a person wants to HC a character as something they aren’t, but please please please do some proper reasearc or reach out to people before you do, so you can also do it correctly. For example: I have an OC who is intersex. I myself am not intersex. I did research, I went to forums and I asked around to make sure what I was doing was right. It’s not that hard.

I may have missed a few things here and there but I hope it answers your question and happy Passover

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #team fortress two #medic #tf2 medic #medic tf2 #jewish medic #tf2 jewish medic #antisemitism #anti-semitism

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I’m not entirely sure if your ships are still open and if not please just ignore this :)

More importantly: CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE!!!!! You’re one of my favorite blogs and it’s nice seeing you get the recognition you deserve!

Okay the actual ship lol: I’m a pansexual 20 yr old female (so gender of the ship is totally up to you and generally I use she/her pronouns) and if possible, could I get a general star wars ship?

I would generally describe myself as pretty optimistic, I’ve been through a lot mental health wise and have come out the other side much more positive and realistic because of it. In fact, my friends call me sunshine or sunny because of how positive and “light” I can be. I have depression which can sometimes cause me to be down, but I work really hard to keep my mood stable. I’m super active (to the point where I want to be an athlete as a full-time job) and love running and cycling. I have two golden retrievers who are the light of my life and honestly keep me sane at times. I’m generally not one to be vulnerable, and I can’t ever say that I’ve truly shown my fully authentic self to anyone (which is something I’m working hard on but hey, takes time). I also seek reassurance often which is another thing I’m improving. I’m an INFP and generally think I fit the mediator personality type because I can calm pretty much anyone down and it’s easy for me to be the peacekeeper in a conversation. However, if anyone is treating others incorrectly (racist, sexist, etc.) I will not hesitate to loose my cool, to the point where my family has nicknamed me “firecracker”. I’m super loyal and very protective of those I love, but never in a possessive sense. I’m fairly tall, about 5’10 with brown hair and light brown eyes. My favorite color is yellow so most of my wardrobe is yellow or some variation of orange, though I do love anything olive green or deep blue. At times I’m pretty sensitive and occasionally have body image issues so some of my clothing is pretty baggy and comfortable. I’m a Buddhist, and mostly live my life by the peaceful standards set by Tibetan Buddhism. I take pride in being strong both physically and mentally and often support those around me to become better if they express the interest. I love being in nature and actually live in the middle of the forest, though I also love travelling and have been to most of Europe and some of Eastern Asia. All in all I’m a pretty grounded and peaceful person (even though I named a lot of contradictory things lol) and am always striving to better myself for those in my life and my future self.

Your ship!!

I would honestly ship you with Paz, I think you guys would fit together perfectly. Between your mutual love of children and animals, and his ability to be a calming and grounding presence for you, you would be the ultimate couple. I can imagine you guys going to town and just walking around the stalls hand in hand, and of course being the big teddy bear he is, Paz would buy you whatever caught your eye and surprise you with it later. Speaking of Paz being a teddy bear, can you imagine the snuggles?? Literally top tier. This man is soft™️ and would just envelope you and never let you go. I think your youse would have plants all over and probably some critters (both with four and two feet) running around. I also get the vibe that Paz would be super supportive of your interests, not thinking that your interest in death is weird but rather almost normal (being Mandalorian and all that) and I can also see you guys having really feel and in-depth conversations about death and subsequently life. As for how you meet... I think you’d most likely be helping with the foundlings or caring for animals (are there shelters in Star Wars? Now there are) and he would be all gentle with the kiddos/animals and you’d notice (because obviously, who wouldn’t notice the big strong man being so soft™️) . You might brush it off and assume he’ll never come back again because ~feelings~ but then when you see him again and he recognizes you, you might just go for it. He wouldn’t push you out if your comfort zone, but instead get to know you slowly. He’s also totally the type to remember all the little details about you like, you mentioned you were tired? Coffee the next day (or whatever you may use to wake up) you need a break from your shift? He remembers what you said your favorite restaurant is and is already getting you out the door. Once you guys have been together for a while I can imagine talking about having a house with some land along with more kiddos (let’s face it, all the bucket boys have a breeding kink) and he’d be okay if you didn’t want that life but would be thrilled if you agreed to the white-picket-fence dream he’s envisioned for you guys. 1000% the supportive s/o who drinks his respect women juice ™️ religiously. I can’t remember if you included your love language in your details, but if it’s touch ohhh boy and you in for a treat with Paz. When I said this man won’t let you go, I mean it. Big arms and large hands (😏) just holding you? *chefs kiss*. He would LOVE it when you lay on his chest and if you ever let him lay in yours and listen to your heartbeat? The man thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. You would also be the first person to see his face if you wanted to, which would probably cause both of you to cry (happy tears) ngl. Also, just a thought that won’t leave my alone, Paz is tatted to the nines but if you’re not into that then ignore this part lol.

Thank you again and congrats on the milestone. Like I said, you deserve this and so much more and it make me so so happy to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve.

Thank you so much for your kind words it means a lot, and thank you for being here, I really appreciate hearing from you and talking thots with you!

For your ship, I ship you with Obi Wan Kenobi!

Being a Jedi and following Jedi practices I think Obi Wan would really like that you follow Buddhism and follow a peaceful lifestyle because it is something similar to what he has grown up practicing himself. Obi loves your optimism and sees it as a breath of fresh air after all the negative things he goes through day by day while fighting in the war and being torn from his peacemaking ways into w war general. Obi absolutely loves your dogs, and don't feel bad if when he visits you he makes a beeline straight towards the dogs to give them pets immediately after saying hello to you. When Obi notices how much you like to be active, he will invite you to come to the training rooms at the temple where he will teach you how to spar so the two of you can spend time doing that, or just running the course that the Jedi have set up for training. Obi loves how much yellow and orange is in your closet and just your style in general, but he likes to tease you about owning so much yellow means that your favorite battalion is his own, the 212th, and how you are their little good luck charm. Obi is very much a peacekeeper and would rather negotiate an opponent down rather than fight, so he very much is glad that you are a peacekeeper as well. That being said though, he does like that you stand up for what you believe in and for others, it never fails to bring a smile to his face when you get a little feisty. Obi Wan is a very caring person and in my opinion very observative, so he will notice when you are feeling down around him and he will give you as much reassurance that you need. No matter what it is Obi will make sure and find a way to cheer you up because he hates seeing anything but a smile on your face.

OMG everything and I mean everything you wrote in your ship for me is perfect!!!

Paz buying me anything that catches my eye? I am dead. Paz being a big ass cuddly teddy bear? yes please, I want him to lay on top of me and squish me in a big hug. Having deep conversations with him? That is my shiiiiittttt. Paz remembering small things like how I take my coffee or tea or my fave restaurant? I am so fucking SOFT! Paz planning out a cute little home for the two of us? Ugghhhhh I can’t! And lastly, both of us crying when I see his face for the first time? Fuck, I am crying now goddammit!

Thank you for this, and thank you for being here and being so lovely to me!

(16/20)

#500 followers #ships #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader

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loquaciousquark · 4 years

Text

Cut for talk of COVID and irresponsible failure to social distance (my own). Also, some updates on what’s been going on here for the last month or so.

part one:

Very very long story that I am truncating as much as possible. As you all know, I am an optometrist and professor. When we shut down in March, our university made a huge, painful shift to remote learning and our student clinic ceased operations altogether. Neither students nor faculty saw patients from March 15 - the the middle of May. At the end of May, faculty began seeing patients directly in an extremely reduced schedule, and at the beginning of June, we began adding in very limited numbers of students in a rolling schedule that minimized exposure to all involved.

Three weeks ago, my dear friend Jasper contacted me and said that an old friend of hers, whom I will call Carol, was in dire straits after losing her job overseas. Carol has an extremely rocky history: a terrible car accident that left her legs and feet permanently damaged which directly led to a very bad divorce, significant student loan debt (just shy of six digits I think, compounded from the accident, since she used her student loans to pay her medical bills--for anyone reading this, do not EVER EVER EVER DO THIS--student loans are never touched by bankruptcy declarations and you will owe them until you die), and something of an inability to put down roots. She is an English teacher who has taught and traveled all over the world: Prague, Bahrain, Czech Republic, Los Angeles, Rio, etc.

When I first met her about ten years ago, she had come back to Alabama from Prague because a job had fallen through. She was completely broke and living out of two suitcases and a carry-on. She lived with us for three months for free, sleeping in Jasper’s bed because we had no other room for her, and eventually got a job in Boston and moved on. She lasted--I think--about two months in Boston before quitting and taking a job in the Middle East.

On top of her student loan debt, Carol also has significant IRS debt and is in debt to several of her friends. Over the last few years, she took several ill-advised positions overseas back to back without ever consulting a lawyer on her contracts, and did not realize until recently that one of her positions classified her as an independent contractor instead of an employee, so she owed US taxes on all her income for that period of time. Her most recent job in Prague she lost in February because she filed her visa (again, without a lawyer) incorrectly, and what should have been a brief three-week stay outside of the country became a six week stay on the couch of strangers in the Czech Republic while she waited for her visa reapplication to process. However, it was denied, and then COVID hit, and she returned to Alabama with only a portion of her possessions and tons of important paperwork left behind in her Prague apartment. She then unfortunately had two emergency surgeries on her stomach for an acute, unpredictable medical issue, and while she is well healing now, it also added on another forty thousand dollars of medical debt to what she already owed.

She stayed with her mother and sister while she was recovering from the emergency surgeries, but her family is emotionally abusive and very unkind to her, and after a few weeks she left their home and went to stay with Jasper. However, Jasper is also 8 months pregnant with her fourth child, and they both knew it was a temporary thing. Jasper knows that I have a large home with several spare bedrooms, and asked if I would be willing to host Carol for a period of time while she got back on her feet. I knew what I was agreeing to when I said yes, and Carol and I settled on a period of two months. She has now been here almost three weeks.

Frankly, I do not like Carol very much. We are unbelievably different people in every way--personality, temperament, proclivity to crying in front of other people, hobbies, interests, religion, all of it. She is a very nice person, and I think she truly does mean well. But she is the most emotionally needy and energy-sapping person I have ever met, and I cannot tolerate her company in more than small chunks. It is not possible to hold a conversation with her about any subject tangentially related to her difficulties; if I try to sympathize with her loans by mentioning my own, she shuts me down by saying at least I will have the chance to ever pay them back. If I just try to listen without commentary, she’ll wrap herself up in her own stories and talk for hours without ever needing more than “mm”s and “hm”s and my undivided attention the entire time.

She will often work herself up into sobbing tears over her situation(s), and she always informs me immediately of any new development in any of her numerous trials: which are usually negative, considering the situation, and usually resulting in more tears. She has cried on me probably more than a dozen times since she moved in, and she wields “I love you” like a weapon, more to hear the validation of the response than to truly express the sentiment. She constantly asks for advice on her situation but does not listen to any of it--seems more to just want to relive each tragic detail of her life over and over again with an audience, wondering why she’s continually “screwed over in her life.” (Really, really poor financial decisions and constantly trusting her own “intuition” over getting competent legal advice before signing contracts, are I think the biggest contributors.) She has told me so many private details about her personal views, relationships with her ex-husband and mother and sister, her financial choices, and her extensive travel and job history over the last few years that I probably know her history better than my own at this point.

I think she thinks by sharing so much that she is justifying to me her need to stay with me. What is actually happening is that I am forced to help shoulder this enormous emotional load that compounds my own mental health problems I’ve been having since all this started. I have told her more than once that she does not need to justify herself to me and that my home is open to her for two months, no strings attached. I believe she is making all the steps she needs to and do not need reports on her daily activities to “pay” for her lodging or electricity or internet or whatever. This has changed the behavior a little for the better but not stopped it.

There are moments that are not bad. As I have mentioned, she does mean well and want well for most people. She likes Hamlet and loves Jasper, who is extremely important to me. But she is extremely difficult to be around in so many other ways, and the way she constantly exclaims over how we basically think alike on all things (absolutely untrue) makes me think she either will not or cannot read my reluctance to engage on any of these topics.

(An example: I was watching footage of the SpaceX launch and despite my feelings on Elon Musk, really excited about the implications for space travel. She came in, and after misunderstanding for some time that I was not watching Space Force with Steve Carell, decided that the SpaceX program was morally bankrupt, obviously borne of shady backroom government deals, and everyone involved should have used the money to solve world hunger instead. For the record, she had not heard of the shuttle launch, SpaceX, or Elon Musk at all before the seeing the footage.)

(She also until last week had not heard of Playstation, Xbox, streaming as a concept, or any game more modern than the original Mario. Trying to order a grocery delivery online was an excruciating torment for her [took her over four days to get through selecting the items, selecting allowable replacements, and actually paying] and I will not ask her to do it again. She frequently makes comments about video games being a waste of time, and when she sees children playing outside, comments on how glad she is they are not inside playing video games. She doesn’t seem to realize her comments are a direct commentary on me; I think she genuinely does not understand that those games are what I am playing most of my free time.)

Right now, everything seems to hinge on her passing some teacher recertification tests next week and the week after. She spent $150 to give herself less than a week to study from scratch for a test she described as the hardest she’d ever taken. There were several other dates later in the summer she could have chosen, and her deadline is December, but she picked the soonest option for reasons I can’t fathom. She is also in the process of trying to get a car--right now I’m driving her everywhere--and she was ready to hand over $3800 yesterday for a ten-year-old Hyundai with a check-engine light on without even thinking of getting any kind of inspection. She is far more concerned with the color and “energy” of the car than its function, and would not have even checked the headlights and blinkers if I hadn’t prompted it.

She will be here another five weeks or so. We move around each other now better than we did before, and I hope it will continue to improve. But it’s a lot like a rock grinding a groove in the streambed from the repetitive friction, and it’s not the struggle I wanted to be having right now.

part two:

As I mentioned above, Jasper is having her fourth child in a month or so. One of her friends, someone I don’t know, contacted me and said she wanted to do a drive-by “baby sprinkle,” where no one gets out of their cars. You drop off the gifts, talk to the recipient a few minutes from the car window, and move on. I told her that I work in health care and am exposed to patients, so that sounded good to me.

The shower was this morning. Carol and I got up and drove the thirty minutes to Jasper’s house. There were four other families in cars right around the corner, and the “hostess” gave us all balloons to tie on our side mirrors. She told us we would drive around the corner, drop off the gifts, and loop around. Jasper’s husband would arrange for her to be in the front yard at the right time.

Cute enough. We go around the corner with little honks and Jasper sees us and starts crying, and it’s all wonderful and emotional and a fabulous surprise and I’m genuinely excited about it. And then people start parking and getting out of their cars, and Carol and I start looking at each other. They’re full families, too--three of the other moms brought all their kids, and soon enough they’re playing with Jasper’s three boys in the front yard and coming up asking to pet Hamlet through the car window. No one was wearing masks.

And what’s worse, when they all started looking at us expectantly through the car window, we didn’t know what to do. They were handing Jasper her gifts and obviously settling in for a good long chat; the women were hugging, talking about how they are “so over this COVID stuff, please come visit soon,” and Hamlet of course recognizes his original owners in Jasper and her husband so he’s freaking out, and after a few moments, we decided to just get out of the car.

It was the first time I really felt the social pressure to participate in an event I wasn’t comfortable with. I have no issue maintaining my social distance and my mask and my handwashing at work because that is where I have the position of authority, and I have the responsibility to model it for the students and patients--but here, I was a guest at someone else’s house at someone else’s event, and I really, really felt how they might perceive me as rude. While I didn’t know the other women, my relationship with Jasper is extremely important to me, and I didn’t want to make this special event for her difficult in any way.

So we got out of the car and joined the group. I tried to keep my distance as much as possible, especially since I had Hamlet on the leash and there were a half-dozen small children around, but at least twice I looked up and there was someone right at my elbow, and we made small talk for five minutes or so before either she drifted back to the group or I moved Hamlet into the shade away from the rest.

Cars drove by and slowed down more than once to look at us. Jasper’s husband made a comment about rolling his eyes if he saw their family on Facebook that evening. The women planned play dates, all standing very close together, and Jasper opened her gifts (that part was excellent). All in all we were probably there about twenty minutes.

I should mention that on the drive there, we passed a public park that has a very pretty waterfall right next to the road, and there were probably a dozen families out playing. There was a festival/outdoor market right outside the the park that had a sign up about social distancing, but the fifty or so people we saw shopping there were not adhering in any meaningful way. No one wore a mask.

And what annoys the bejeezus out of me is that I didn’t either. I didn’t even think about it until after we finally got back in the car to drive away. This is the first social event I’ve gone to since the first week of March, and while I wear masks for eight+ hours every day I go in to work, it didn’t occur to me even a single time to put on even my little cloth one that I keep in the car until we were driving away afterwards. I was so flummoxed by every little thing happening differently than I expected--people getting out of cars, how surprised I was by my own susceptibility to not rocking the boat, how normal everyone else made it to stand so close they could bump elbows so that Carol and I became almost excluded from the circle--that it never once crossed my mind. I know masks are more for the protection of those around you, not to keep you from catching what other people are carrying, but I could have set an example. I could have been the health professional I should have been in the moment.

I’m just so disappointed in myself. Disappointed in my own carelessness, irritated that I didn’t say anything, continually frustrated in a deep, gut-wrenching way by the whole situation that requires this in the first place. Bewildered that so many people are “back to normal” while this thing is still spreading, and in brutal honesty wishing I could be like them and just give up the fight myself. I’m not even mad at them. I WANT TO BE THEM. Why am I continually bothering to care and sanitize and mask and stay at home when no one else is? Literally no one would judge me in this state for it more than I’m already being judged (in most cases impersonally, though I felt the potential for it today in specific) for still watching the recommended guidelines.

I am really, really sick of this. I am so sick of feeling alone in this (of being alone in this, and Carol doesn’t count). Hearing other people saying “there there, you’re doing the right thing” honestly makes it even worse. I want people to stop patronizingly telling me to do things I already know are the right thing to do. I want other people as mad as I am that I can’t do the things I want to and need to do instead of being endlessly patient and noble about all the lives they’re saving by staying home. I’m top-of-my-head-blowing-off furious that so many people are shrugging and saying “well this is just the way it will be forever and alas, so it goes” and acting like those of us who did the right thing and cancelled our plans and our trips and our visits to dear friends but who are mad about having to do it are overreacting. I’m so fucking mad about it. I’ve stayed home for two months and I’ve isolated and I’ve quarantined and my hands are cracking from the constant sanitizer/washing at work and except for today I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do for this, and I don’t want to do it. And seeing people be so heroically virtuous and longsuffering on Facebook feels as alien and upsetting to me as the people who go to the beaches with a hundred of their closest friends.

That’s probably unfair in myriad ways. I’m really too angry, including at myelf, to soften it right now.

I want a vaccine and I want to be back in my classroom teaching to fifty faces instead of a screen in my living room, and I’m honestly freaking sick of waiting at home for them to figure this out. And watching everyone else move on with their lives back to the normal I would kill to have is just one more crack in the dike.

#quark rambles #this got really personal and mad #so sorry about that #coronavirus for ts #covid-19 for ts #quarantine for ts #carol #jasper #long post for ts

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gothamincarnate · 4 years

Text

Interacting with d/Deaf muses (and d/DHH people)

for d/Deaf people reading this: I am HH but only recently Deaf so I am mostly speaking from that perspective and things I’ve heard from others in the Deaf community. If I am wrong on any point let me know. reblog this with corrections or simply send me an IM.

for hearing people reading this: like I said, my experince is incredibly personal as are most people’s navigation of Deafhood or deafness. don’t take this list and just assume it’s law. this is only tips. most of all be respectful to the individual.

putting it under a cut for length and so that i can append & correct it as needed.

I said I wasn’t going to “how to write a Deaf muse” but this needs to be said-

do not make your character d/Deaf only in a side verse. It is a lifelong thing for us.

there are people who are late deafened so chronologically this could be done, especially with regards to the Deaf journey.

but it should not be done as a side verse.

this is not to say that writing a Hearing character as Deaf is bad! In fact, I encourage you to. my main muse is Deaf Batman and I enjoy exploring his character in Deaf culture and deafness as a disability.

HOWEVER, his deafness is part of every verse that I have with him.

the reason for this is that, well, d/Deaf people face communication barriers every day and it’s not something we can take on and off for convenience. even with assistive devices we are still deaf.

Interacting with d/Deaf people in real life:

deaf & Deaf are two different things. feel free to google explanations on this.

do not question a person’s decision on how to self identify as d/Deaf or HH. if someone is being harmful then let someone who is d/Deaf handle it

a hearing person cannot give themselves or others a sign name even if a Deaf person gave them a sign name. if you want to change a namesign, ask another Deaf person. there are a rules and a required amount of fluency. It’s not just a nickname.

let the person you’re talking to set the course for using asl if at all. some of us are oral to varying degrees or use aids that work for us. many are bilingual, which means many will switch back and forth as needed when interacting with people. many even text or type instead.

there are varying degrees of hearing loss, not everyone is fully deaf. some are even hearing but use sign as their primary means of communication and therefore can be considered Deaf

lip reading is nearly impossible and takes a lot of concentration, mostly only get a few words because your outer lips only count for 20% of how we talk.

there’s also listening fatigue where is pretty self explanatory. don’t assume we even like lipreading. it’s difficult

don’t turn your face or bend down if we’re trying to have a conversation. it’s a visual language which means we need to watch your expressions and you need to watch ours.

do not, I repeat DO NOT! stare at anyone using ASL. it’s RUDE to watch us just because it’s “interesting” to you.

do NOT come up to use and sign the three words you know and walk off, don’t sign at us at all unless you mean to have an actual conversation.

stop calling ASL beautiful. Yes, it is beautiful for a lot of historical and cultural reasons but if hearing people just think its’ “beautiful” it because it’s highly visual

many go without listening aids for a variety of reasons, don’t ask about it unless the person offers you to ask them

some people are culturally Deaf & some people want nothing to do with it

some people prefer to consider deafness a disability and this is mostly an intracommunity issue, do not correct a deaf person on this

I know you have been meaning to learn ASL. Stop telling me that every time I use ASL or talk about it. It’s frustrating. Either learn it or don’t. If you really care about the ASL user in your life you’ll learn it.

do not, like never if you can help it, say “never mind” or give up when the person is asking you to repeat yourself. many of us have spent our whole lives hearing that. we deserve communication just like everyone else.

do not give a three word summary or say “i’ll tell you later”, it’s incredibly hurtful and singles us out and deprives us of a spot in the conversation

many people who use ASL use it out of a need to communicate, it’s not something we can just take for fun

Interacting with Deaf muses (not “how to write a Deaf muse”, do research for that)

hearing people cannot give themselves a namesign. do not give your hearing muse a namesign. don’t even give your d/Deaf muse a namesign. ask someone’s who a d/Deaf RPer to help you if you really want to.

some Deaf people don’t have namesigns

namesigns can change depending on who’s talking to who about what or as a character grows up. it’s not the same as a nickname but there can be nicknames in asl if established

if your character is holding something in their hands and needs to use ASL there are options. Have them tuck it in their arm or set it down. Have them use it when they sign as part of the sign. Though this requires fluency in sign. You could also have the character use one handed signs but this requires both fluency and knowing kind of what the person is talking about already like a friend or family member

if the character is holding something they can’t set down easily or at all for some reason. they will be unable to communicate with someone who is unable to hear until the object is set down. this happens in real life as well.

it takes 3 years to become conversational but if you are honestly trying most will be patient enough to fingerspell a lot

some people sign fast. asking them to slow down is frustrating to us but some will. it literally depends on the individual’s personality and past experiences

sign users often have accents due to what they learned or didn’t learn or growing up in a certain area or simply their personality. you can give your character a sign accent but like, put thought into why it’s the way it is. did they learn from a hearing teacher or a Deaf teacher?

consider the space your characters are in. siging space is a big bubble around your head and chest. this means you need to be able to hold your fully extended arms to the side and above your head. ASL users will stand a farther apart so that they have room to sign in front of them and watch the other person’s signing back.

yelling in ASL is louder and farther away, possibly looser due to being upset. ‘whispering’ takes a few extra steps like huddling or walking away.

I prefer to just translate it to English than try to gloss it or write out every sign. Taking into consideration the visual and physical, positive and negative aspects of ASL, you can still translate it to English

if you have your character obviously speaking or communicating ineffectively for some reason make sure to let the d/Deaf mun is okay with it. we already have Dinner Table Syndrome in real life, some don’t want to RP it. it’s like trans people don’t want to RP misgendering even if it “makes sense in context”

ineffective communication can include: a character mumbling or turning away. wearing a mask. not being able to see the person’s torso and face. an environment dim lighting.

if a hearing person corrects you, run it by a Deaf person first because there are hearing people who learning Deaf culture incorrectly and will white knight for us for no reason

if your character isn’t from Amercia they might not know ASL but another form of sign. Think of it like an English person learning a a language with similar roots. some words are shared or rather obvious many aren’t because it is literally an entire different language that developed

#here you go.#please reblog it uwu

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observantgal · 4 years

Text

Spies Tied by Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Rating: Teen And Up Audience

Author’s Note: This is part of bigger story. Hope you like it! Let me know if you did. Do come back for other chapters!

Chapter 1: The Meeting

It was one of those regular days at the facility, except for the new team of agents gathered in Meeting Room No 12.

Mr. Phil Coulson being a technical operative, and second in command of one of the most powerful intelligence agencies of the world, had called for his top choice of secret agents to discuss something, that he claimed to be grimly urgent and a matter of prime concern.

Mr. Coulson looked anxious as he ardently typed on his laptop. Sat across the table, Agent Peggy Carter worked on her phone, while Agent Natasha Romanoff tried to puzzle what the situation could have possibly been, that demanded their immediate attendance. Agent Sam Wilson was on his phone, pacing across the room near the door. From the tone of his voice and the speed at which words exited his mouth, he seemed to be extremely annoyed with the person on the other side of the call. They were all waiting for Agent Steve Rogers. A new face was in the room, sat quietly next to Mr. Coulson, sipping coffee.

A dozen of ceiling lights lit up the windowless room and the aroma of ground coffee, lemon tea, and honey mingled with the stale and dingy smell escaping the air conditioning vents. The odour creeped into their noses. The constant beeps from the PBX machine cutting through the deafening silence made the ambience more awkward.

After a few minutes, Agent Rogers rushed in, apologized for the delay and shamelessly blamed it on the Records Department. He had a reputation with the Records Department for being their top five annoying agents who belittled paperwork, waited until the last moment to turn them in, and somehow managed to do it incorrectly 75% of the time. They hated his guts, but that never stopped them from letting him escape, even if he was wanted by the second in command.

Noticing everybody present, Agent Wilson hung up the phone and joined them. Mr. Coulson pretended to have completed his work and slammed the laptop close. He clenched his palms over the table and took a quick look at each one of them. Being popularly known to be a No-Nonsense Man, getting his point across with zero reservations whatsoever, was his virtue.

Read on AO3

“I do not wish to waste any more time so I’ll come right to the point,” he said. “The operatives from our foreign intelligence department have reported a breach in our database system that holds codes for the ciphered government information related to identities and medical records of civilians.” He paused for a second for them to take in the news. Then he continued, “Our security system being equipped with numerous layers of firewalls and heavy encryption mechanism, the only possible explanation is that the attempt to access the database must’ve been made by someone from the inside. This is a matter of national importance and calls for immediate action. With prior permission from Mr. Lee Carper, the head of our organization, I appoint all four of you to investigate into this.”

Pointing at the gent next to him he continued, “This gentleman here is Mr. James Buchanan Barnes. He is an expert and a scholar, with experience in high-tech equipment, communication interception and cryptanalysis. He will be a part of your team in this probe.”

Barnes let out a nervous smile and slightly raised his arm and waved faintly, in an attempt to greet them, who were still trying to digest the facts.

Coulson continued, “If you do not have any questions, the meeting is over. Please remember that nobody outside the six of us can know about this. Thankyou.” Immediately after, he re-opened his laptop and started typing.

The four of them appeared to be have been lost in their mind palaces, scampering around, rescheduling assignments, prioritizing tasks, questioning time limits and scheming on where to start looking for clues. The incessant beeping of the telephone machine dragged them all back into reality and sighing almost together they got up and left.

Coulson ensured that they had passed the lobby leading to the meeting room and turned towards Barnes. With a radiant smile he said, “Mr. Lee Carper mentioned that you have had the privilege to work in some of the well reputed intelligence departments. I am sure you are aware that the conversation earlier was not out of spite and is quite normal here.”

Barnes trying to look calm replied, “Of course Sir! I completely understand”

“Well, in that case, allow to me show you to your desk,” he got up, buttoned his suit jacket and left the room with his laptop. Barnes followed him out the door.

To Barnes’ surprise, it was in no way just a desk. Huge screens, computers, servers, wires, high tech equipment and a desk with a chair in the middle of the room. It looked like a scaled down master control room, brought to life, straight out of a futuristic science fiction movie. He gazed around in awe. Amazement didn’t quite cover how he felt, as he brushed his fingers over the keys and buttons. He could only have ever imagined such a workplace, especially for a nerd like him, and that would have been one of his wildest dreams.

Coulson turned to him, “You report directly to me Mr. Barnes. I hope we see the end of this situation at the earliest. I wish you the very best.”

“Yes Sir!” were the only words Barnes managed to articulate. While he struggled to conceal his enthusiasm, his sparkling eyes and sincere smile gave it away.

Coulson shook Barnes’ hand and left. On the way to his cabin in the hallway, he noticed Carter, Romanoff, Wilson and Rogers discussing and decided to join them.

“Coulson, when did you find out about the report?” asked Wilson.

“The report came directly to me last night. Whoever did it, knows that they are under my radar now. Time is our enemy and apparently, our security systems need an upgrade.” said Coulson.

“Does Mr. Carper suspect anyone?” asked Romanoff.

“I am afraid no. He is obviously more terrified. But he puts his entire trust in us. So, you guys get to work quickly. Defer all the cases that you can and work on the leads Barnes will give you.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“Phil, are you sure we can trust the new guy?” asked Rogers.

“Well you see,” he said, “he is a direct recommendation from Mr. Carper. And he has had experience in other intelligence departments before. He is good with surveillance and tech support on field. Guiding agents in and out of dangerous missions is what he is known to be a master of. His records are clear too. We can trust him.”

“Alright, if you say so” said Carter.

“Okay, see you guys” Coulson waved them bye and walked towards his cabin.

They all had hurriedly made it to the meeting leaving their works behind, and with no leads in sight for now, they looked exasperated.

“So, where do we start from?” began Romanoff.

Before anyone could answer, Wilson burst out, “Alright listen to me, we all basically abandoned everything in the middle to meet up here and we don’t even know where to start. How about we give the new guy some time to settle down and figure out things so he can ‘guide’ us. And until then, we sort our craps out. I need to get this thing done immediately and the thought that every minute I waste here, gives my suspect an escape window of 2 hours is consuming me. So, let me know when you have accumulated some material leads. Until then, I am unreachable to all of you.” And he stormed off calling someone on his phone.

“I also need to complete my paperwork… you know… Charlie never lets me go… so I’ll see you guys later too,” Rogers added and left.

“Charlie?” asked Carter.

“Yeah, she is the new intern and helps him with the records and stuff” shrugged Romanoff and they too left to tend to their assignments.

***** end of Chapter 1 *****

Read on AO3

#stucky #stucky au #stucky fic #my fic #my writing #spy #secret agent #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #my posts

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yourhero404 · 5 years

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A little drabble for Denki, because my sweet thunderbolt doesn't get enough love. It is snowing super bad out like the snow is already hip level. His S/o messages him that they are craving something. So he decides if he he should face the snow to get them their special treat

A/N: you’re completely right, Denki does not get enough love despite the fact he is the best damn pikachu out there smh also hello I live where theres no snow……….ever so if I wrote it incorrectly I am so sorry lmao

DENKI

‘What do you mean you want a milkshake?!’

Denki stared at his phone in disbelief. His s/o really wanted a milkshake? In this weather? Drawing back the blinds a bit, he was able to see just how hard the snow had been falling all day—there was no way he could go anywhere in that, he’ll be swallowed alive!

‘I mean I’m just really craving a shake idk’

‘Have you looked outside, crazy??’

‘We’re practically snowed in!’

‘Don’t doubt the need for a strawberry milkshake anytime, anywhere’

He stared at his phone with the corner of his lip twitching in time with his eyebrow completely dumbfounded. They hadn’t directly asked him to bring them a milkshake, but he knew he would get extra boyfriend points if he picked up on their hint and brought them one—but this weather? What sort of animal would want a frozen drink when there’s nothing but a thick blanket of white as far as the eye can see? He groaned, throwing his head back and spinning his desk chair around a few times. He should go get it, right? Glaring at his closet, he reluctantly threw himself up to his feet.

“I better at least get a thank you for this,” he mumbled to himself, blushing a bit at the idea of maybe even getting a kiss for his efforts, though he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

Was it possible to look like the human equivalent to an idiotic marshmallow? Or a rendition of a child’s drawing of a walking snowman? Denki decided that yes, it was possible, and he was it. With his overly puffy jacket that limited his movements, pants to match, and snow shoes attached to his feet, he attempted to pose in his mirror with no luck—he could barely see over from under his hat or over his scarf anyway. Shuffling and waddling like a penguin, he made his way out the door, only to be met with a literal wall of snow—it was up to his knees! He had to wade through this? You’ve got to be kidding me!

Determined, he bit the inside of his cheeks with a pout, shoving his legs through the snow until he was able to conquer the wretched ice and attempted to give a triumphant pose—it didn’t last long as he started to slip and decided to keep pushing forward instead of play around. What felt like thousands of miles later- though in reality it had only been just a few blocks over- he made it to what seemed to be the only diner-like place open in this weather.

“Woah, careful there!” the waitress called to him from behind the counter as he tumbled through the door, “You look cozy.”

“I’M DYING,” he dramatically cried, muffled by the weight of his clothes. Once he managed to catch his breath and uncover his face, he spoke again, “I need a strawberry milkshake- to go, please.”

The waitress looked at him as though he were nuts. ‘Yeah, you and me both, lady,’ he thought, awkwardly avoiding the judgment in her gaze by staring at the abundance of papers stuck to the cork board behind the counter. Once he paid for the frozen drink, he held it out as though it was going to harm him and braced for the flurry outside once again- he attempted to use the cup as a shield as he made his way over to his s/o’s house, just silently hoping that they were actually home.

An entire hour of walking against the wind, a few instances where he rolled down hills, and falling into a hole later, he trekked up to (S/o)’s front door and attempted to ring the bell—he had to awkwardly slam his hand against the door instead when he found he couldn’t bend his arm the correct way in the coat. After a few minutes, he attempted to just yell for them instead, not caring if it came out like some sort of jumbled mess.

“H…hello?” (S/o) called out.

“BABE,” Denki shouted through the puffiness of his coat, “I BROUGHT THIS FOR YOU.”

He attempted to hand them the cup, moving it back and forth in front of them awkwardly until (S/o) grabbed it and saved themselves from accidentally getting… whatever it was to the face.

“Denki?”

He struggled to untangle the scarf around his neck to speak a little more freely and shot his arm up in triumph. He did it! He had gotten there in one piece! With the milkshake, too!

“Did… did you come all this way to give me an empty cup?”

“ARE YOU FOR REAL?” Denki didn’t even attempt to stifle the frustrated, dramatic sob that broke out. After all that work, all the cold, he didn’t even get the chance to be a good boyfriend and bring his s/o what they wanted?

“Hey hey, it’s okay!” they scrambled to comfort him, unzipping the bulky jacket to gain an actual look at his face before holding it in their hands, “What were you trying to do anyway? You look like a marshmallow.”

“I was trying to bring you a milkshake like you wanted… but it’s ruined.”

“You walked all the way here in this weather to bring me a milkshake?” they laughed as they spoke, both in disbelief and over just how adorable their boyfriend was, “That’s so sweet of you! Honey, you really didn’t need to-”

“I wanted to be a good boyfriend!”

“You are a good boyfriend!” they emphasized, “The thought alone means a lot, not to mention you actually listened to my whining. But going out in this? Just to bring me one and make me happy? That’s beyond being a good boyfriend, Sparks.”

Their warm hands stung against his freezing cheeks, but he didn’t mind as he saw their smile meet their eyes, bright and loving. The red in his cheeks was both from wind burn, and the blush that crept up immediately after they moved in and pressed their lips against his own gently; He immediately warmed up and gave a goofy, lovestruck grin back to them when they pulled away.

“Since you came all the way here, why don’t you come inside and warm up? Get out of the snow gear.”

“You’re right, I look like a total dork.”

“Hate to break it to you, Sparks, but you always look like a total dork.”

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o-behave · 5 years

Text

NEGOTIATIONS: WHEN PSYCHOLOGY HAS THE UPPER HAND

By Jack Duddy, Isabel Power, and Laurie Twine - Ogilvy Consulting’s Behavioural Science Practice

Have you ever left a situation feeling like you didn’t get what you actually wanted? Or even left an argument feeling like you lost even though you know that you were right, but couldn’t quite articulate why?

These are similar scenarios for many in their professional life, personal life and even on the world political stage. We can, however learn from those who have built their life on constructing arguments, deals and negotiations. Those like Chris Voss, former FBI hostage negotiator and co-author of the book Never Split the Difference. He believes his most successful negotiation outcomes came about when he employed simple psychological insights.

Whilst (we hope that) most of you do not encounter life and death hostage negotiations on a daily basis, you will be surprised by how much negotiating you do every day. In the words of Chris himself “life is a negotiation” and the majority of interactions we have at work and at home are negotiations that boil down to the expression of a simple, animalistic urge: I want.

This can be manifested as: “I want a pay rise” “I want the kids to go to bed at 9pm” “I want you to like and share this blog post around social media…” (worth a try)

Try and picture what your daily negotiations might be.

We have pulled six psychological insights used by Chris and other leading thinkers in the field of persuasion, that you can use in everyday life.

Before we jump in, remember: “Negotiation is not an act of battle; it’s a process of discovery. The goal is to uncover as much information as possible”.

1. Labelling Assure them that what they are feeling is okay

What to do: Identify what someone may feel or is currently feeling and call it out. This is best done with small phrases such as: ‘It sounds like or it seems like’

This can be one of the most powerful techniques when it is used effectively because labelling allows us to identify with a counterpart and show that we understand the position they are in. This also tells them that the emotional reaction they are having to what you’re saying is normal or even expected, and therefore not a barrier. Even when this is done incorrectly there can still be some benefit. As long as you have listened to someone and listened to their reaction, an incorrect label gives the person the opportunity to explain how they feel in another way. Either way you are closer to understanding someone’s circumstance, which ultimately is what your counterpart desires.

A couple to try

“This may make you feel shocked, but… ” “It seems like you are upset by this…” “It sounds like you are getting frustrated…”

2. Illusion of control

Make them feel like they are “active” in the negotiation and not just a bystander

What to do: Ask “how am I supposed to do that”

Control is incredibly important. If individuals feel vulnerable they are likely to act defensively which can break off communications and there is no progress without communication. So, you may ask ‘How I am supposed to move forward the conversation while making my counterpart feel that they have control’. Chris believes you should be posing almost this exact question to them.

When someone is trying to negotiate something out of you, asking your counterpart ‘How am I supposed to do that?’, forces them to consider your position and offer options. This is exactly what you want them to do, to see your side of the negotiation, offer solutions and then you are in the position of saying “yes or no”.

So how can you move the conversation forward whilst making your counterpart feel as if they are still in control.

3. Similarity ‘Mirroring’ Make them think you are on their wavelength and find similarities between you.

What to do: Copy the other person’s tone, body movement and language.

This may shock you to hear… but humans are surprisingly fickle. Even though we may be selfishly trying to get the most out of a situation, we can be incredibly swayed by whether we like the person in front of us. There are tricks and techniques to achieve this “like” factor which can be grouped together under the term “Mirroring”.

Mirroring is when you match another person in their body language, vocal tone and even the words they say. This makes you appear similar to each other which triggers the heuristic we have that “similarity = likeability + trust”.

One tactic is to simply repeat the words that someone is saying back to them. If you are using the same words, verbs, adjectives and jargon then they believe you are on their wave-length and the disconnect of “are they understanding me?” disappears.

Another mirroring tactic is to copy body-language. Stand or sit similarly to the other person during a conversation. But be subtle and natural. If they sit back in their chair, wait a moment and casually sit back as well, if they are sat forward and engaged then match this position with theirs to also seem engaged. Again, this indicates that there is a connection between the two of you and that you are not “against” each other in this negotiation.

4. ‘That’s Right’

Understand and validate their position

What to do: Summarise their position as you understand it. Pause and wait for their response.

People find it incredibly important to feel understood. In fact, chemicals actually change in our brain when we feel like someone is listening to us and we are much more open to discussion. Getting your counterpart to say ‘that’s right’ is important because it is a subconscious signal that they actually believe you understand their perspective.

What’s even better about hearing ‘that’s right’ is that you have not only reassured them and validated their position, but it also acts as confirmation that you have understood them and therefore you are able to move the conversation forward.

So how can you hear these magical two words? Whilst phrases like ‘yes’ or ‘you’re right’ may seem like you have hit the jackpot, they can be used as a defence mechanism. These phrases are used when people are exhausted and want to shut down communications. In order to avoid these generic responses do not ask a closed question such as ‘is that right’ as this puts pressure on the individual to give a quick response. Instead, paraphrase their position and use the ‘power of the pause’ to trigger a ‘that’s right’.

5. Execute action

Break stalemates by asking ‘calibrated questions’

What to do: Ask questions that begin with ‘What’ or ‘How’ to move the conversation forward. For example, ‘Taking this position into account, how can we move the deal forward’

Sometimes in negotiations you can find yourselves in situations when both sides appear to understand each other’s point of view and there have even be echoes of the golden ‘that’s right’, yet the discussion has reached an impasse.

Calibrated questions can move the discussion forward into action. By using this type of question, you not only repeat and therefore validate each other’s position it also helps the issues become three-dimensional. Which can help you and your counterpart think of better answers.

In order to be as effective as possible use ‘What’ and ‘How’s’ rather than ‘Why’s as these are non-threatening terms.

6. ‘NO’

Use ‘no’ to open up new paths of negotiation

What to do: Flip normal questions on their head to become no-orientated questions. Instead of ‘do you agree with this?’ try ‘is there anything you disagree with?

If you have been trying to implement all the above and you are still finding your counterpart comes back with ‘no’ then all is not lost. This actually offers you more opportunities than hearing a ‘yes’ because it paves the way for further discussion.

‘No’ is a protective word, whereas saying ‘yes’ means committing yourself to something you may not want to do in the future. Therefore, people have a natural inclination to say no.

We can capitalise on this by flipping some of our questions into ‘No-oriented questions’. Voss believes with this approach people are more likely to concede to your demands indirectly. He tells a story where he got access to a roped off VIP area in a restaurant, when, instead of explicitly asking for permission, he asked “Would it be horrible if we sat in this section?”

For those paying close attention you may have noticed this spells L-I-S-T-E-N. This is the principle that underpins almost all the literature and tactics on hostage negotiations. Listen to what the other person is saying, not just through their words but their entire body. This is your greatest tactic and only that way can you find out where they really stand, why they are saying what they are and to eliminate any sticking points.

Remember, at the end of the day, even though they may not seem it at the time, you are always talking to another person. In many ways they are just like you, and in just as many ways you are just like them. And just like them you are subject to the same biases and psychological techniques. It seems like you really enjoyed this blog. Is it ridiculous for us to suggest you read our other blogs too?

References

Voss, C., & Raz, T. (2016). Never split the difference: Negotiating as if your life depended on it. Random House.

#behavioural science #psychology #negotiations #0419

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thethirdwheel404 · 4 years

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Med Rewatch Series (#4)

S3: Nothing to fear. See what happens.

-GUYS IT’S AVA

-yes.

-Ava: “It’s leaking.” Connor: “that’s impossible.” BITCH FUKCING BET

-Ava’s like bruh you ain’t shit

-ava undermining connor to latham. hmm...... not that good for my argument, but... it just means, greater redemption arc

-okay why does Connor gotta look at her so mean tho?? bro chill

-literally why is everyone so horny

-haha sarah yessss. the clipped ‘dr. reese’ ‘dr. charles.’

-i have no idea why but sarah and noah are just walking through the ed and I keep expecting ava to fucking pop out of nowhere and save her from the convo. oh my god.

-okay sarah’s storyline in this one is pretty good. the lady, the patient, she’s great.

-sarah is adorable right now. so professional but also chill

-’disingenious’ okay damn go off

-okay but back up to my point before, i’ve always thought of ava of being like this lowkey protector of women (ik it’s a little out of left field) so everytime I see a guy trying to talk to flirt with a girl i am always expecting ava to just swoop in and save the day. ESPECIALLY with sarah, and its gotten to the point while watching her and noah I ACTUALLY expected her to pop up. dumb monkey brain never learns --- I actually wrote this so here it is

-god sarah is the fucking best

-uh oh, the fact that there’s an ava/connor scene right after this is SENDING ME (not in the good way bc literally stop it - especially)

-this is the scene where ava brings him coffee and his hair is a mess. It shows empathy (if you take away the romantic ava subtext). Like if you look at it on the surface, it’s a great scene, she’s nice. But then she goes and starts talking about robin and how she is also kind of his patient, which could be read as undermining (listen ava stans I promise i’m not looking for negative ava points it just happens)

-BUT THE BEST THING IS IT DOESN’T GO THAT FAR. I was fully expecting him to get accusatory of her criticizing robin but he doesn’t so we’re good. This scene is completely fine without the romantic subtext, which is fantastic

-this scene is also fun if you think about those au’s where sarah or ava has really severe mental illnesses that effect her work bc then the exact things she says to connor ‘you work our schedule then you go home to your girlfriend who is basically your patient too’ and- Now that i think about it in those stories connor would just be super super supportive aw well

- i do really like that scene - one of the best points of connor/ava brotp

-Ava: “At least it hasn’t affected your sunny disposition” ma’am I love you

-Ava: “keep up the good work” she said keep making mistakes and I keep getting paid let’s go this is the team

-is this the one where the baby was fake? that was a really good episode

-aw wait there’s actually a baby nevermind

-ava’s best storylines are one’s where she’s independent of connor. we’ve established that. it’s not that I hate connor, I just get scared when they’re in the same room for a long time bc then they inevitably start talking relationships and undertones

-when we get to the actual relationship i’m gonna vomit

-why does Connor have to be right everytime? Come on, it’s annoying, and not just for me, right?

-everytime he’s right and ava is wrong, it makes ava seem impulsive. As we’ve established before, she’s not impulsive (EXCEPT WHEN CONNOR IS BOWLING OVER HER DECISIONS AND CONGRATULATED FOR IT). she’s a good doctor, she wouldn’t be at med with connor if she was not

-yeah it’s that classic thing where surgeons are always partial to surgery

-ava tends to lead to the more serious possible outcome. actually, that’s really all it is, she tends to believe the most drastic possibilities. she makes the tough decisions when no one else can/will. she’s fucking amazing, and that’s why we love her - but everytime connor bowls over her decisions, she seems impulsive, she seems incompetent, almost dramatic. med. no.

-especially on this case - remember that this is CONNOR’S mistake! ava is cleaning up after it! connor should not be congratulated when, from the way I look at it, connor’s just getting lucky.

-gosh sarah’s fantastic

- nobody:

-sarah: *rolls sleeves*

-oh yeah she steals sarah’s prescription pad. i really do hate all the people sarah treats bc they like totally take advantage of her and make her distrust them so much that she feels super unsafe. ava will protect her (in my brain ava is a instinctual protector of women)

-okay but literally in this scene sarah is like floored and she makes a deal of apologizing to charles but like,,, sarah Was right. babey no...

-ik that most medical dramas are all about doctors disagreeing over things but,, med would not be able to propel story without it. literally everything story beat is-

character A: I think this.

Char B: No! we’re going to do this.

*does the thing* *thing goes wrong*

B: See? I told you so.

-also most of the time something Else happens and A happens to be right the entire time. (and the amount of times character b happens to be female and char A is a man is astounding. literally ava in her first ep, and ethan and april now. holy shit I hate this show so much.)

-i boiled down med to its bare essentials!

-sarah: *prescription pad goes missing* *sees woman who wanted a note* *dramatic music plays*

-sarah... please no. she’s about to do a bad thing....

-sarah’s storyline makes me so fucking sad.

-the way sarah fixes her shirt/jacket when she tries to be in control

-SARAH GOING TO BE ALONE SO SHE CRIES ON THE ROOF - MY FUCKING HEART????? stop it med fucking stop it (i got so upset in my first draft i wrote stopping fuck it) - but that’s some reesker inspo right there

-med writers really try to make everything a ‘thing’

nobody: ...

april: it’s because i’m not a doctor, isn’t it.

(alt:

ethan: ...

doris: it’s bc you two are fucking, right )

-but maggie is taking none of their shit

-maggie: if you two don’t stop misbehaving i’m gonna move your desks apart

-the way all the people with common sense talk to the doctors like children is fucking hilarious (sharon: ‘I expect better from you, Dr. Manning’

-if nat pulls the ‘i know this, i’m a mother’ card i am suing.

-I’m suing.

-she pulled the ‘I’m a mother’ card AND the ‘my husband died’ card oh wow! a two for!

-okay honestly. Im gonna be real with u. If i came up with nat’s story about her fear of heights, then I wrote will helping her over her fear of heights, I would be proud of that. That being said, it feels suuuuper out of place right here. it’d be in place in like a thirty minute comedy (like the emotional development and pay off is on brand for like brooklyn nine nine) but it just feels suuuper weird.

-like having an hour per ep means it feels like they should have had enough time to better develop the story

-latham: ‘Did you go behind my back?’ YES LATHAM YES HE DID. FLAME HIS ASS

-i want to see what happens with connor’s benching storyline

-now i get anxious whenever they’re in surgery (you can use this for inspo)

-okay what. just bc connor found something wrong he gets to SCRUB IN??? BRO HE SHOULD NOT GET A SURGERY FOR NOTICING A MANUFACTURING MISTAKE??? this is so FUCKING STUPID

- i hate it here

-the way sarah folds her hands behind her back when she goes into charles’ office - adorable.

-okay what the fuck. charles asks sarah into his office and asks for her diagnosis of him, which makes it seem like he is actually trying to get better, but then when sarah answers his question (incorrectly btw, charles is not fine) he’s such a complete jerk. dude everybody needs to stop hating on sarah come on wtf. that’s literally so mean.

-god she is literally too pure she should not be a psychiatrist.

-that being said. she is beautiful.

-I FUCKING FORGOT THAT THE PATIENT SLASHED SARAH’S TIRES

-she really can’t catch a break. babey

-sarah noah brotp is probably peak

-its very rare for med to have two characters of opposite genders interact and not get together so this is a special thing

This episode wasn’t the worst. I wrote that fun little thing about Ava shutting down Noah’s advances on Sarah. The Ava/Connor cafeteria scene is fantastic for their interactions with each other, and like always, we just sit through the other storylines.

thanks for sticking through. not a lot to say, this was more me just talking about the general tropes used on med, but i did write a whole 500 words for casual reesker so its a good day

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

#chicago med #med rewatch series #mine #nothing to fear

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cicadacreativemag · 4 years

Text

The commodification of Black pain: Why "White Fragility" falls short

Jay Serrano, Editorial Director

In the midst of yet another reckoning with the antiblackness that permeates every corner of the U.S., many people have scrambled for ways to make sense of it all. For some, it is a familiar topic of conversation, one that has shaped their entire life. For others, it is an abstract knowledge they may only be exploring for the first time.

For these individuals, self-education has become a common prescription. Social media users who are more well versed in the topic of antiblack racism have curated various reading lists with recommended reading for nonblack people. One title has popped up in several of these posts, often floating to the top of the list. I recognized it from when it hit the New York Times Best Seller List in 2018 and stayed there for over a year. It stirred some controversy then, but it has since reemerged in the wake of the George Floyd protests, once again becoming a best seller, highly recommended and rated on Amazon and endlessly passed around on my Facebook feed.

The book is called “White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism,” written by a White academic named Robin DiAngelo. You’ve likely heard of this book before—or, at the very least, have heard of its central thesis. Her primary assertion is that White people are inherently complicit in racism and that they must do work to dismantle this, defining resistance to this concept “white fragility” or “white defensiveness.”

I am not the target audience for this book and withheld critique because I did not have a strong opinion of it. I’m mixed AfroLatine and thought there was no reason for me to read a simplified version of racism for reluctant White people, but as it became more and more famous, I noticed insidious things about it. Reading it validated some of my more cynical analyses of the narcissism of neoliberal elite establishments, but it also deeply confused me. It appears I was not alone.

The critiques of the book vary. One common critique is some variation of “racism is not that bad, and I’m upset at being implicated.” I view this critique as fundamentally absurd, ahistorical, and demonstrably false. Another critique, primarily presented on the Left, is that DiAngelo uses corporate framing to offer a prescriptive non-solution to a problem that could be more effectively solved by addressing workers’ rights and establishing socialized policy. The idea is that class solidarity supersedes racial solidarity and that to proclaim otherwise is playing into corporate division tactics and identity politics. The Left has very scant media representation and, perhaps predictably, the voices that have succeeded have been almost exclusively White. It is not shocking to me, then, that their critique correctly analyzes DiAngelo’s poor framing and conflict of interest but fails to diagnose the real pervasiveness and seriousness of antiblackness.

I think the real problem with “White Fragility” is that is reads as a self-congratulatory Racism 101 course that centers the White experience above all and sanitizes the experience of people of color, especially Black people—ironically, likely to be more palatable for a White audience. The book is incredibly repetitive and condescending, entirely satisfied in its commodification of racism in the U.S. and once you realize how much money she’s made from this book and how much it has brought her fame, it feels openly exploitative.

Centering the White Experience

DiAngelo is a White woman. A White author being the primary spokesman for people of color would seem to undermine the ethos of the book, which often emphasizes listening to us. There is a strong narcissistic streak to the entire narrative; it is all about White people, even as we are being finger wagged at about how we leave people of color out of conversations about their own oppression.

We hear plenty about white privilege, white fragility, white tears, white guilt, etc. But we hear very little from or about people of color’s experiences outside of being oppression boards. She offers few positive stories about people of color—instead, every interaction regarding racism is combative and confrontational. There’s also a creepiness to the way in which nonwhite people are reduced to props in the backdrop of White people’s journey towards enlightenment.

There is an incredible irony in watching groups of rich White elites argue amongst themselves about racism. There is even more irony is watching the critique of these people come from other White people and watching their arguments still miss the point. It’s a bizarre reminder that we aren’t allowed to be the protagonist even in stories ostensibly about us. DiAngelo didn’t write about us. She wrote about White people’s feelings about us.

The Corporate Angle

This is part of the Left critique of DiAngelo’s work that is actually quite prudent. DiAngelo fills her books with anecdotes of defensive workers she met during her stint as a corporate diversity trainer. She, bizarrely, appears to offer her advice as a corporate consultant without acknowledging this approach would be inappropriate with family and friends. She doesn’t appear to acknowledge this because she doesn’t realize it, which makes it even more concerning.

Prescribed lines come across as insincere and almost cartoonishly silly, furthering the impression that this is about optics and sounding woke rather than about effecting meaningful change. She also often paints coworkers as being the harbingers of inequality but fails to ever acknowledge the way corporations are plagued by systemic racism. To eliminate racism from the workplace would require a reckoning with the capitalist structures that have historically disenfranchised people of color, particularly Black and brown people.

She even often frames racism as…microaggressions in the workplace. Sure, this happens and yes, it is inappropriate and negatively affects people of color. However, it betrays a bias in which it is clear she believes the more overt types of racism—lynching, hate crimes, wrongful termination, being denied housing, poor access to medical care, higher mortality rates, etc.—are either less important or less common than corporate microaggressions. We don’t need to protect ourselves from a lawsuit. We need to foster more empathy for people of color. Now, more than ever, what we need is for White people to see the humanity of Black people. This book does not give us the tools to make that happen.

The Political Divide

Part of what makes this book stand out and, I believe, part of why this book was so instinctively rejected by the Left is because there is a huge ideological rift between the Democratic Party and progressives. DiAngelo incorrectly defines “progressives,” couching it into the term “White progressives,” which feels as though it is intentionally avoiding Martin Luther King Jr.’s naming of “the White moderate.”

Through subtleties like that, it becomes apparent that DiAngelo has a political ideology that is notoriously infantilizing and condescending towards people of color and is diametrically opposed to the politics of racial justice groups, which are typically Leftist in nature. The New York Times is a moderate outlet with a clear ideological bend, and it feels like no coincidence that this book was widely covered by the publication and then began increasing in sales. To be entirely fair, the New York Times and other more moderate outlets have praised Black literature and showcased it, helping to garner attention, but they can be problematic vessels.

One of the largest critiques of White moderates is that they are often incredibly complicit in systems of racism and inequality, but instead of addressing these issues head-on, they offer strong rhetoric that they do not practice nor seem to truly believe. This political divide is, despite popular belief, not a new one. Again, Martin Luther King Jr. criticized White moderates, and although DiAngelo often says the “correct” answer, her rhetoric is insidious in its insincerity.

Letting White Academics Set the Conversation

The fetishization of academia and intelligence that pervades a substantial wing of the Left and Liberals is often our own undoing—we are so impressed by the intellectual novelty of a topic we presume the argument is more substantive than it truly is. We view intelligence as authority, granting them implicit trust. While this instinct is a reasonable one, it is ultimately part of the problem.

When we offer academics a disproportionately large amount of credibility, we allow them to set the tone of the conversation. Perhaps this would be appropriate in the case of something like neurobiology or electrical engineering, but when discussing race issues, particularly the systemic kind, academia is hardly the authority. Colleges uphold and perpetuate systemic racism in complicated, nuanced ways, which is not the primary topic of this piece, but remains incredibly relevant. When considering how this book became so famous, one must consider the systems of power that allowed a White academic to set the narrative.

This critique is substantially reduced with Black academics and other nonwhite academics, but even then, the discourse can be divorced from material realities or become corroded by stewing in a context that is implicitly hostile towards antiracism.

Offering No Solutions—What was the Goal?

DiAngelo very conspicuously offers no solutions as to how to actually improve the material conditions of Black people. She only appears to encourage self-flagellation to absolve oneself of any accidental racism while engaging in said racism. Feeling guilty is centering your fragile white feelings, she insists, as she continues intentionally provoking guilt and centering the White experience. She paints the reader into a corner by taking the possibility of criticism off the table and gives them nothing but the recommendation they attend her pricey racial sensitivity seminars.

It comes across as being provocative for the sake of being provocative and really, the idea is a self-defeating one. The theory of White fragility is fundamentally unprovable because any critique of it is an apparent confirmation of itself. It does not encourage dialogue or move the needle—it simply alienates for the sake of establishing one’s own moral superiority.

At the end of the day, this is a book that reviews the same concepts over and over without offering any suggestions on how to help advance the liberation of nonwhite people. It doesn’t seem interested in endearing itself to the reader and is, in fact, openly hostile towards the reader, who is ostensibly trying to unlearn their racism. It is difficult to believe her goal is to convert the layman. She simply presents her narrow realm of corporate moderate ideology that abstracts our experiences with racism to make White people feel guilty and buy her books so she can profit off our pain while talking about us like cardboard cutouts.

If we are to assume the goal is self-education, there are far better books written by authors of color which we can and should be reading instead.

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