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songsofadelaide · 6 days

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You and your husband were hardly sleeping together lately. You couldn't blame him. He was busy beyond words and he had a duty to the realm. He was king, after all.

When Marcille heard you were having trouble sleeping, she personally made you some dream balm, which was really just a concoction of beeswax, fragrant lavender, chamomile, bergamot, and some crimson herb you couldn't identify because the heavens forbid the queen not get enough rest— and more stuff you didn't hear because of how off you've been feeling from the lack of sleep.

So when the evening rolled by with her dusk-coloured skirts across the sky, you decided to turn in for the night and made use of the aromatic balm Marcille concocted especially for you. You rubbed the sweet yet waxy substance on your temples, behind your ears, and a little bit on your wrists and other pulse points and called it a day.

But your sleepiness was chased out of your body because you were hearing things.

Your shared bedchamber with the king was dimly lit and there was no one else there but you.

You could hear the thoughts and desires from your bed frame. Your... your pillow? And not just your thoughts, but Laios', too.

"Kiss me, please—"

"—Let me hold you..."

"You're so beautiful..."

You could hear his thoughts in his voice in your head— his voice so calm and patient and perhaps a bit tired-sounding— as though he was simply whispering them to you. His thoughts were so embarrassingly loud that it did not help your case of sleeplessness at all.

"Don't look away from me... I want to see your face."

The balm was warm behind your ears and on your pulse and it made you cry a little bit because by the gods, you missed your husband and his voice in your head and your half-empty bed were nothing but torment for you. You held his pillow in your arms and ducked under the covers to hide from... from your own embarrassment. If you weren't going to get any sleep, you may as well tire yourself out instead.

Laios was always incredibly honest with himself. He was never one to shy away from things. He would tell you he wants you— he desires you— without missing a beat. And so his voice in your head with his somewhat disrespectful tone, telling you to take all of him, made your imagination work overtime.

"Are you asleep already? I apologise for not being able to spend that much time with you lately..."

Oh, his voice was apologetic this time. Nothing like the seductive phrases you've been hearing for the last half hour or so.

"Ah, Laios..."

It was only when you felt the bed shift and the covers lifted up that you realised it was him for real this time.

"I—" You stammered at him, your face warm and hands even warmer underneath your night garments.

"W—" Laios was about to ask you something, but he hardly got a word in when you grabbed your shared blanket and cocooned yourself in complete shock. "Hey, there's no need to hide from me..."

He coaxed you out of the covers and into his arms and tenderly kissed away the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

"My lord husband, I—"

He chuckled at how cold his title sounded as it escaped your lips. "Didn't I hear you call me by my name just moments ago?"

"I-It's embarrassing enough that you caught me in such a state!"

"Well, you don't have to be in that kind of state if you would just call for me," he said as he rubbed circles on the back of your dominant hand. "I have my duties to this kingdom, but I also have my duties to you, my queen, my wife... Just tell Marcille and Kabru that you need me. I'll come running no matter where I am or what I'm doing."

"Oh, right. Marcille gave me this weird balm. She said it was supposed to be a sleep remedy but it got me all hot and bothered instead because I was hearing you all over the place..."

You handed the canister of balm to your husband, who twisted it open and gave it a little whiff. "Lavender, chamomile, bergamot... and some saffron, if I'm right. No wonder you're burning up."

"Why?"

"Saffron is a, uh..." It was his turn to be embarrassed this time. "Well, Senshi and Chilchuck once told me to steer clear of certain plants because of their... certain strange properties. Saffron is one of them. They're kind of like an aphrodisiac, after all."

"A... what?"

"Let's just say it's a spice," he said in conclusion, slowly drawing you into a kiss. "Now, do you want to pick up where you left off? Only I'm here now, so..."

On the other side of the castle was the advisor to the king and the kingdom's head mage in complete panic at how she accidentally switched turmeric for saffron for the queen's dream balm.

Kabru simply laughed off her rookie mistake. "You did them a favour, Marcille. Trust me when I say the king's going to thank you first thing in the morning."

✦ A little something again for us Laios lovers. Can be considered a spiritual sequel to Means Something.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden x reader #laios x reader #laios dungeon meshi #i dreamt of this and typed it in a rush because i might forget #things i can't stop thinking abt lol #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

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pedritapascal · 6 months

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A good Agent, or a Good Fucker... to me

Chapter Six - Connections

Pedro Pascal's character - Dave York - [DY] The Protector 2 / Equalizer 2

Dave York x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,5K

WARNINGS: {+18} Sex Language; SA; Fingers; Tongue; Nudity; Explicit Details;

A good Agent, or a Good Fucker... to me

I wasn't crazy, I walked quickly towards him and hugged him tightly on the tips of my toes.

"Dave, you're okay" - breathing a sigh of relief with my arms around his neck, feeling one of his hands on my back and his nose sniffing my hair

"And you look great, don't you?"

I went back to the soles of my feet and released the hug.

"No, you're not going to do that, don't you dare Dave, I haven't heard from you for a week and you're not going to make an issue of it now, there's no point, you know that..."

"That we have nothing, right, we're nothing to each other..."

"It calms you down to know that I didn't kiss Matthew and..."

"I saw you, I've been watching you dance for a while"

"And you didn't come and talk to me? What's the point? You're still an asshole, man..."

"I wanted to see how far you'd go"

"You know that if I wanted to I would have kissed him, we're nothing, I've already told you that you don't own me"

Dave made that debauched face I hated to see

"I can't believe you crossed the Atlantic to be a scumbag on an international scale David..."

"I didn't cross the ocean for you, I was in Belgium, the case took me there, and I thought I could see you, I just didn't know you were enjoying your new job so much."

"Dave, you know that if I wanted to kiss Guerrit I would have done it and you being here or not doesn't interfere with my decision..."

"Are you sure?" - Dave smiled sideways - "For a moment I thought you didn't want your little friend because you felt me close"

"Fuck, really?" - Raising my eyebrows, it could have been the alcohol or the anger that Dave made me feel just by existing, but I turned to go to the table where my team was.

"Where are you going?"

I didn't answer, I walked over to the table, towards Guerrit

"Is that your boyfriend, Rookie?" - Matthew asked

"I don't have a boyfriend" - I replied harshly

I grabbed him by the face and put my mouth to his, at first he didn't understand what was happening, I forced my tongue into his mouth and felt his hands go around my waist and squeeze me against him, I heard my team at the table shouting and commenting on what was happening, I finished with two kisses, and smiled with my eyes still closed.

"See you on Monday Agent Guerrit" - picking up my things to leave

"No, wait" - Matthew tried to hold my hand, but I let go and headed for the door, passing Dave who looked at me angrily, but controlled.

"Good night Agent York" - I walked through the door, stopping on the sidewalk to ask for an Uber.

"Where's your car?" - I heard Dave's voice behind me

"In the agency garage, I'm not driving drunk..."

"I'll drive" - Dave held out his hand for the key

"The only thing you'll be driving today is yourself to the hotel you're staying in"

"So... There's no hotel, I just got on the last Eurostar and came here, I got to the agency, identified myself and the security guard at the gate told me where you could be, so I went... I didn't even bring any clothes"

"Well, that's too bad, but I'll tell you, turning left here, two streets ahead there's a great square, sleep there"

"Hey" - Dave took me by the arm, turning me towards him - "Shall we stop this?"

"Why? Did you find out that being an asshole to a person who can shelter you is a mistake?" - Looking at his cell phone

Dave laughed

"Would you really leave me on the street, princess?" - I felt his hand on my cheek and looked up at him

"Of course, I still want to, but I'll be nice, I'll show you a hotel"

"Hey" - Dave approached - "I came here, because I wanted to see you, I wanted you, I missed you, and not being able to talk to you was driving me crazy, and when I saw you out there having fun, I thought you didn't care about me"

"I don't care"

"I know that's a lie, because that hug you gave me wasn't from someone who didn't care"

I snorted, I hated how he was always right...

"I'm just going to let you drive because I need my car for the weekend and I don't want to leave it at the agency" - handing Dave the key.

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I had already put the way home on my cell phone for Dave to follow, I lay back a little on the seat and leaned back, Dave always drove in silence, and this time would be no different, I missed seeing him drive, looking at him so concentrated and his hand on my thigh, and it was only thinking about it, that I felt his hand touching my leg, this time, unlike the others, I put my hand on his, and intertwined our fingers, Dave smiled, still looking ahead and caressed my hand with a thumb.

We arrived at my apartment and as soon as we entered Dave slammed the door and pulled me to him, turning me around and putting my back to the door, pressing his body to mine and running his nose along my cheek.

"You have no idea how much I want you, how much I've wanted to be here with you," he said, moving his mouth up to meet mine.

I kissed him hard, running my tongue over his lips while one of my hands held him by the hair on the back of his neck and the other I pulled him to me from behind. Dave kissed me, bit my lips, swirled his tongue in my mouth and gasped, he pulled away from me and I whimpered.

"If you kiss that guy again, he'll see what a fucking killer I can be" - he returned his mouth to mine and went down to my neck

"And who says I want to kiss him again?" - I gasped - "There are other agents in the agency" - I said, biting my lip.

Dave got off my neck and looked at me

"Then the damage I'm going to do is going to be much greater" - he winked at me

"Dangerous, aren't you?" - I said, pulling his hair back

"Only when they want what's mine"

"Dave" - I smoothed his face - "I'm not yours"

Dave put his hands between my legs, over my pants, rubbing my pussy hard.

"This pussy here is my princess"

I moaned louder

Dave opened the button and zipper of my pants and quickly found the waistband of my panties, slipping his nervous fingers in until he reached my entrance, where he calmed his hand and touched me slowly, slipping his finger in and touching my clit, I tried to moan but Dave silenced me with his mouth and swallowed my moan, I missed those hands, that mouth, Dave guided my body as he wanted, my body only obeyed his touch, especially when he touched me like that.

Dave took off my pants and panties at the same time, leaving me exposed to him, just in my blouse. He knelt down to finish taking my clothes off by my feet and right there he positioned himself and buried himself in my folds, slipping one of my legs over his shoulder, and the other leg over the other shoulder and stood up with me on his lap while his tongue snaked around my entrance and touched my clit, I still had my back against the door, while Dave lowered his mouth to thrust into my pussy, his nose massaging my clit making me moan loudly.

"FUCK DAVE" - I screamed with my hands gripped in his hair, as he drank my orgasm away and I moaned his name.

Dave went down on me slowly, running his tongue up my stomach as he pulled up my blouse

I was completely naked there for him when I started to take off his overcoat, his suit, Dave undid his shirt buttons while I undid the knots in his tie, he took off his shoes with his feet while I opened his pants and let them fall with the belt still hanging from them, making a noise when they hit the floor hard.

I grabbed his erection over his gray boxer shorts and pressed lightly, hearing him gasp, I pushed him to give me space, I took him by the hand making him follow me, we went into my room, my bed still messy from the night before that I almost turned over working on the terrorist cell case, folders and photos thrown on the bed and I just pushed him on top of it all, I wanted him, I thirsted for him, as he fell, Dave pulled me by the hand making me fall on top of him too, he held me by the head, kissing me again, this time a slower kiss, as he kissed me he gathered my hair in his hands taking it away from our faces and settling my strands in his hand behind my head.

"I know one thing you miss, Dave" - I moved my hand down between our bodies and reached his cock, slipping my hand inside his briefs and stroking just the head of his dick.

"I missed all of you princess, your body, your hand" - Dave gasped

"And my mouth?" - I asked in his ear

Dave just sucked in air with his mouth as I stepped out of his arms, lowering my mouth and leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, then his chest and down his belly, reaching the hem of his briefs, Dave lifted his hips a little so that I could pull his briefs down, I saw his cock jump backwards hitting the lower part of his stomach. I ran my tongue over my lips to moisten them and positioned myself there in the middle of him, while holding his cock by the base, I kept my eyes on Dave who was leaning back on his elbows to watch me, I ran my tongue over the tip swallowing the pre-cum...

"I miss the flavor of you" - I said, looking at Dave

Dave threw his head back, "you bitch" he whispered, I swirled my tongue around the red head of his cock one more time before taking it into my mouth with a light suction, looking at Dave who lay back on the bed, his hands in front of his face.

"Holy shit" he groaned and I continued to swallow and return my hand to the base, moving up and down with my mouth, I released my hand and swallowed until my mouth felt uncomfortable in my jaw, I moved my hands down to caress his balls while I swallowed his cock and returned to the head, Dave sat up abruptly, carefully pulling me off him.

"I didn't come here to cum in your mouth princess," he said breathlessly, pulling me by the face.

"But I want to so bad Dave" - pouting

"Oh my God" - he laughed and kissed me, smiling into the kiss - "You're perfect" - he whispered with his nose in mine

I got into bed and pushed everything onto the floor with his help

"You're mixing up the evidence princess"

"Tomorrow I'll sort it out Dave, today I want you" - as I climbed back onto his lap.

Dave turned me off his lap, laid me down and came on top of me, one of his arms on the side of my face, looking me in the eyes, fitting himself between my legs, lowering his hand between us and sticking two fingers in my pussy at once, I just held my breath not to scream his name there, I rode on his fingers while he looked down at me, very serious

"That's it princess, give me one more, come for me come" - Dave whispered as he fucked me with two fingers and his thumb rubbing against my clit. "Tell me this pussy is mine"

"No" - I said breathlessly

"Say it's mine," he said between his teeth as he pumped his fingers harder into me.

"Okay, it's yours, you won, just fuck me, I need you inside me" - I whimpered

Dave pulled his fingers out of me, pulled his cock up and down twice and forced it into me, I kissed his arm that was on the side of my face, and wrapped my legs around his hips.

Dave shoved it in and I moaned, his thickness, after so long, I held onto his back

"Slow down Dave, you're thick"

Dave smiled in the corner, pushing slowly so that I could get used to him again. When he felt my body relax, he settled his body on top of mine, leaning his weight on his elbows, with one hand Dave held my hips tightly as he began to pull his cock in and out of my pussy, I moaned low, with my eyes closed, whispering his name, I opened my eyes and Dave was staring at me with a face of desire, of hard-on that he could barely hold back.

Dave moved his head down, running his tongue over my chest, down my neck and up my chin, until he found my mouth and bit my lips, rolling his hips against mine and I could feel his groin rubbing against my clit. His hand moved from my hip, up to my breast, where he squeezed it carefully and moved his mouth down to it, running his tongue over the hard nipple.

We'd never had sex like this, calmly, feeling our bodies, and yes, it was the first time we'd had sex with him looking me in the eye, he'd always preferred to fuck me on my back and I particularly loved it, until we found ourselves in this position, where I could feel all of him.

Dave returned to my mouth, now his hips were bumping into mine calmly and intensely, I was feeling my second orgasm coming on and I clung to Dave's body repeating his movement

"Please Dave, don't stop" - I begged breathlessly

"Come to me princess" - Dave whispered in my ear.

I moaned loudly when Dave's hand grabbed me by the neck, squeezing a little too hard, just to make me run out of air, my whole body shook, I tried to scream, or moan but the lack of oxygen stopped me, Dave released me suddenly so that I could finish my orgasm breathing and smiled as he continued to pump my pussy, I let my body fall back and Dave followed by putting his sweaty body on top of mine, he pumped faster and harder and I felt his cock grow inside me and Dave pushed once more and I felt it all go in at once, his arms stiffened, he slipped an arm under me, his hand on my back, pressing me into his body, while he moaned loudly, I'd never heard him moan like that, without his growl every time. Our bodies in sync, slowing down, both of us panting.

Dave pulled my hair away from my face, still breathing hard, and kissed me, a wet, lingering kiss, leaving my mouth and kissing my forehead. Dave carefully got off me and lay down on my side, pulling me to him. I rested my head on his shoulder, with his arm around me, and his other hand held mine to his chest.

"How I needed you" - Dave said as I felt his breath on the top of my head and stroked his chest with my fingertips.

"I was worried about you Dave, what happened?"

"I can't tell you now princess, you need to trust me" - lifting my face as he held me by the chin and giving me a kiss, I rolled my eyes, taking a deep breath - "Shall we order something to eat?" - Dave added, picking up my cell phone from the bedside table and handing it to me.

I unlocked it and handed it to him

"Go ahead and order, I need a shower" - I got up and headed for the bathroom - "Hey Dave" - I turned in the doorway to look at him, he was frowning at my cell phone - "Are you going to be here long?"

"I don't know, maybe until Monday or Wednesday, why?"

"Nothing much, if it was enough time for me to solve the case of the explosions... Going back to the US wouldn't be a bad idea..."

Dave put the phone down on the bed and walked towards me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"You'd come back with me, are you serious princess?" - Dave's eyes lit up again, just like the first time we were together.

I nodded yes

"If Lieutenant Jones takes me back, and I've already solved this case" - I said, entwining my fingers in his that were around my waist - why not?

Dave squeezed me in a tight hug, he didn't need to say anything, I understood that he wanted that too.

"Now, do you want to take a bath with me, prince?" - I raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Dave, who was frowning.

"Prince? It didn't work, princess..." - he laughed

"Yeah, I'll have to try another nickname, but not now, now I just want to know if you prefer the shower or the bath?"

"A quick standing shower with you, or a relaxing bath with you between my legs?" - Dave looked thoughtful - "I think you know my choice, don't you?"

"You've already ordered the food, pumpkin"

"Bombonzinho?" - Dave raised an eyebrow - "Stop trying, please" - Dave laughed - "I haven't, you've taken all my attention" - He said as he went back to bed to get my phone and I took the opportunity to turn on the taps in the bath and prepare the bath

When Dave came back into the bathroom, I was already in the bath with the foam up to my breasts, and I called out to him with the tip of my finger - "Come here."

He wasted no time in getting into the bath, sitting behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me to him as he held me in his embrace and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling his lips leaving tender kisses on the path from my neck to my shoulder, my skin shivering at his touch.

"Dave" - I whispered his name softly

"Hi princess" - Dave whispered back into my ear, nibbling my ear.

"That thing you did, at the time of my orgasm"

"Huh?" - Dave mumbled, asking with his mouth still on my neck and his fingers intertwined in mine - "Which part princess?"

"The part about your hand on my neck" - I felt Dave smile into my neck.

"I know" - Dave put one hand up and held me lightly by the neck, his big hand almost going around, I swallowed - "Did you like it?"

"Humrum" - I nodded while biting my lips - "No one has ever, you know, done it the right way, like you did..."

Dave put a little more pressure on my neck with his hand and I gasped. I took his other hand and put two fingers in my mouth and licked them, leaving my saliva on them.

I let out a low moan at his touch, and Dave understood what I wanted, he began to massage my clit, circling and pressing with two fingertips while his other hand held me by the neck, but without squeezing I bit my lips and closed my eyes as I rocked my hips and Dave skillfully worked his fingers into me, going up and down, in and out, reaching my clit again. Dave stuck his mouth to my neck where he played with his tongue, moving up and down, and I moaned louder, calling his name and begging him not to stop.

Dave whispered in my ear, "That's it. Come for me..." as he plunged his fingers deeper into me. I felt his hand pressing even harder on my neck and my breath began to fail me. Dave moved his fingers up once more and I felt my body shudder as my orgasm took over. Dave's hand, which had been on my neck, was now squeezing me so hard that I couldn't breathe anymore, I could feel my pussy trembling in his fingers, I couldn't speak or moan, I just felt my body vibrating against his, as I tried to pull in the air that Dave's hand was preventing from reaching my lungs due to the pressure he was putting on my neck.

Dave released my hand slowly and I moaned loudly as my body still shook from my orgasm, he turned my head towards him holding me by the chin and kissed me slowly, while tucking my hair behind my ear and holding me by the face, I was still moaning, and he swallowed every one of my moans.

I turned facing Dave and lifted my hips moving forward and I felt the tip of his cock rubbing against my entrance and I began to sink into him as he let the air out of his lungs feeling my wet walls sliding down him and us fitting together perfectly, as he put his arm around me and pulled me tighter to his body and fit more and more into him.

Dave began to guide me along his body, making me ride his cock, while his mouth gasped on my left breast and ran his tongue over the hard nipple.

TRIIIM

The intercom rang

"SHIT" - Dave shouted - the food's here

I just laughed, getting off his lap and out of the bath while he did the same and wrapped himself in a towel. Dave went to his pants to get his wallet to pay for the food and I dried off and went back to the bedroom to get some clothes for myself.

I went into the living room already dressed in time to see him close the door with the packets of food in his hand. We went into the kitchen where he put everything on the counter while I got the plates, glasses and cutlery we were going to use out of the dishwasher, and we sat down on the stools while Dave served us a slice of pizza.

"Princess, do you know what I want to do tomorrow?"

"Hmm?" - Already biting into her pizza, she was starving

"Go out with you, on a real date, you owe me one, remember? Let's go?"

"I don't know, Dave" - chewing - "I'm afraid..."

"Afraid of me?" - he looked at me in amazement

"Of course not" - I snorted - "I've never been, you know" - I took a deep breath - "afraid of not being good out of bed..."

"But we were great at the office desk too" - Dave laughed as he bit into his pizza

"Asshole" - I rolled my eyes - "I'm serious, we fight all the time..."

"I honestly don't know what's going to happen here" - Dave scratched his nose, smoothing it from bottom to top thoughtfully - "I'm a bit rusty at this and I really thought my head was focused on the case, but since you left... I... you know"

"I know, Dave... me too" - I nodded - "and there's the fact that you've just got divorced too"

"That's got nothing to do with it, I told you, my marriage had been over for years, the divorce was just a formality, I've always been fine with it, I thought I'd now focus on getting my career back on track and..."

"E?..."

Dave took another bite of pizza, chewing...

"And... nothing, you, you take all my focus away" - Dave said wiping his mouth with his napkin, crumpling it up and putting it on the counter a little frustrated

"I..."

My phone rang

Dave didn't even look at the phone

"I think your partner wants some explanations"

"Guerrit doesn't usually call me Dave, we just exchange messages about the case and" - picking up the phone, it was Guerrit - "How?" - Hanging up the phone - "How did you know that?"

"I had your phone in my hands and there were countless messages from him, and you didn't answer any of them... one day he was going to call"

I just rolled my eyes

"I'll deal with it on Monday, let's decide what we're going to do tomorrow? I want to enjoy my time off"

"I told you princess, we're going out, you and me"

"Let's get you some clothes first, don't you think? Or do you want to go out in Holland dressed as an agent?"

"Shopping?" - Dave grimaced, finishing his third piece of pizza - "I hate shopping"

"It's not my favorite way out of the house, but"

Dave rolled his eyes

"You know what, but afterwards, I want to visit Anne Frank's house, I've always wanted to" - getting up - "Finished?"

"Yes, yes" - wiping my mouth with my napkin as Dave took the dishes off the counter and into the sink where he began to wash them.

"Do you wash dishes Agent York?" - I asked curiously

"You know I was a family man, right? So I washed the dishes, took care of the yard, took out the garbage..."

I raised an eyebrow

"What?" - Dave looked at me curiously

"Nothing" - I smiled - "I'm trying to connect the thought of you cleaning a yard and being a cold, cruel mercenary at the same time" - I laughed harder - "the math doesn't add up, you know?"

"Hehe, idiot" - Dave rolled his eyes - "But that's why no one suspected" - he winked at me

I shrugged, yawning

"Let's go to bed princess, you're tired" - Dave said kissing my forehead.

I got up and went with him to the bedroom, while he put his underwear back on, I went to get the case files I'd scattered and mixed up off the floor.

"Dave, next time I do this, please don't let me... look, I've mixed everything up" - huffing and putting it back on the bed - "SHIT."

As I tidied up the files, I looked at the photos of the crime scenes, all of which were places involved with technology, buses without drivers that were powered by technology, large developer buildings, stores with virtual services.

"FUCK DAVE, LOOK HERE" - Spreading the photos out on the bed - "TERRORIST CELL IS AGAINST TECHNOLOGY"

Dave stood for a few seconds looking at the pictures on the bed with his arms crossed

"You're a fucking genius..." - he said

"First in my class, huh? Are you going to the agency with me tomorrow? I need to take this information"

"And see your partner's stupid face when I arrive with you? I wouldn't miss it for the world" - Dave grinned - "Now let's get some sleep, I hate this European time zone..."

"Have you forgotten that you're going to sleep in the square? I've had you for all I care, Dave" - I gave him a smile as I tidied the bed.

Dave laughed and let himself fall onto the bed, slapping one hand against the mattress beside him, I rolled my eyes playfully and lay down next to him, Dave slipped his arm around me pulling me into his embrace and resting my head on his chest, he kissed the top of my head.

"What are we doing, Dave?" - I lifted my head to look at him

Dave smoothed my face, held my chin looking into my eyes, and gently brushed his lips against mine.

"I don't know, princess, but I want to find out..."

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The tag list (always in progress), please let me know if you want to be added or removed in my future fanfic posts.

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Chapter Seven - Surrender

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xalygatorx · 5 months

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Worthy (2015) | Chapter 1, "Subject Camo"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Summary: Tony Stark and Clint Barton are called in for a briefing on “Camo” from Agent Coulson and Fury. The target is 25-year-old Cora Dempsey—her codename references her sporadic ability to disappear from sight and, strangely, give off similar readings to the ones they’ve picked up from the BiFrost when she does. Tony expresses opinions.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: None.

Word Count: ~1.5k

"I just wanna know one thing," Tony Stark muttered as he coolly adjusted one of his wristbands and then proceeded to finish off the packet of pomegranate seeds he was working on. "Why I got called out of a meeting, an important meeting, by Agent over here to chase a kid."

"You know, you can call me Phil," Coulson chuckled with a patient smile as he passed the self-righteous billionaire to sit down beside Clint Barton at the conference table. "And I'm pretty sure Pepper would attest to the fact that you were otherwise unpreoccupied."

"That's my girlfriend, you're not allowed to talk to her," Tony noted over the seeds in his mouth with a wag of his finger. He glanced around the room before asking, "So, what, it's just me and Big Bird that got called in?"

"Steve will meet you at your starting point. Didn't need Agent Coulson to be distracted…," Nick Fury said with a pointed glance toward Coulson, who averted his eyes a bit embarrassedly. "We've finally been able to make limited contact with Asgard, with the help of Dr. Selvig, and though the snow-bridge or whatever hasn't been entirely repaired yet…"

"The BiFrost, sir," Coulson supplied.

"…we've been able to enlist Thor as a backup. They've been very forthcoming since New Mexico."

"Why so many recruits for this one test? I could do this solo," Tony declared unabashedly as he dropped the empty silver snack bag onto the table and sat down, the Arc Reactor glowing vividly through the fabric of his shirt. "Actually, I take that back. Seems like you're pretty well-staffed. So I can go home."

"You haven't seen this girl," Clint commented with a knowing look, habitually plucking the string of his bow to check the tension before setting it down and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Hate to admit it, but we're going to need all the help we can get."

"How are you guys having so much trouble finding one chick? Amateurs." Tony shook his head, putting his feet up on the edge of the table.

Fury gave a small, frustrated sigh before giving the file he was holding a toss. It skidded down the glass surface to lose momentum in front of Tony and Clint, who glanced away without interest; he'd already read through the file. Tony, however, picked it up, eyes always alight when there was information or data to be packed into his already jam-packed brain. "Finding her isn't the issue. She was fairly easy to identify and even easier to spot. Agent Coulson?"

Coulson leaned forward and calmly explained, "Cora Dempsey. Twenty-five years old. Hair: Black. Eyes: Blue. Pale, five feet and eight inches tall, one-hundred and twenty pounds."

Tony opened the case file and glanced at the photo inside, giving a soft whistle. "You sure her eyes are blue? They look black."

"They're really dark, apparently. Her driver's license and all her other official documents say blue. None of us have gotten close enough to tell for ourselves."

"Why not? What'd she do?"

"Remember that incident in Central Park two weeks ago?"

"Refresh my memory," Tony requested as he pored over the documents in front of him.

Clint was the one who spoke up first. "Someone wavered out of sight on one of the park benches by the Alice statue in front of about twenty people. Then again in a subway terminal off Broadway."

"And that person was this girl?"

"Yeah. There's no one we can bring in to ask about her either. No family apart from her grandmother, who's homebound in California."

"If she's homebound, there's got to be someone taking care of her," Tony pointed out a bit impatiently.

"Yeah, her uncle, but he's only met the girl once, according to him, and doesn't know a thing about her," Fury stepped in.

"Anyway, so she's pretty simple to spot," Coulson noted. "She's not very well off, financially. Owns like four different shirts as far as we can tell, so there haven't been elaborate disguises to get through. She also has distinctive tattoos on…"

"You know how many shirts she has?" Tony repeated with an arched brow. "You get bored around here or something? Creeps, shame on you."

"As I was saying, tattoos on her back and her right wrist. She also has a stud in her nose."

"If she's so easy to spot, why haven't you caught her yet?" Tony asked, closing up the file. "You. Big Bird. You started to say something about that earlier. What is it about her?"

"Well, we catch up to her fine and then she disappears."

"What, does the wavering thing? I saw some news report on that when the subway stuff happened. It's not like she turned invisible. She just flashed a little."

"She seems to do the 'wavering thing' just enough for us to lose track of her. And it does the same thing to our equipment. The interference is…"

"What?"

"Well, it's similar to what the BiFrost arrivals did before," Coulson admitted, frowning. "It doesn't make sense though."

"This can't be the first time someone's slipped in some radioactive sludge and gotten powers. Stranger things have happened."

"It's definitely not. Most of them grow extra appendages though," he noted seriously. "But she's not radioactive in any sense and not an Asgardian. And the readings are nearly identical."

Tony snorted at the idea that there were actually weird alien-god-men up in space somewhere. "Okay, well, considering there might be these gods out there, maybe it's another kind. Maybe she beamed down from Krypton or Vulcan or something."

"Vulcan's highly unlikely since it got blown up," Clint offered, earning a roll of eyes from Fury and Tony, both.

"My point is, if there's actually one other 'world' out there besides ours," Tony noted, hooking his fingers through the air to punctuate his doubt, "there could be more, right?"

"She's been on Earth her entire life though and so have, er, had her parents. You saw the birth certificate, the diploma, the driver's license, the degree… All of that's there. In fact, her family dates back through the centuries, no problem."

"What happened to her parents?"

"Car crash. She was inside, but came out with just a broken arm."

"Did that have anything to do with her?"

Coulson shook his head. "Just a freak, tragic accident."

Tony nodded, not having to open the file back up to reassure himself there were all those documents inside. He'd seen them and his suggestion had been to exhaust all possibilities. "What's the interest here?"

"Interest. And she's a potential threat, should she opt to use her…talent for bad intent. It'd be ideal for a thief, a spy, really any covert operative position out there. She doesn't seem like a criminal yet, but we'd rather get to her before that happens," Coulson explained.

"Not much of a party. Just picking up a runaway," Tony murmured as Fury retrieved the file.

"You say that now, but I think it might be more of a challenge than you think."

"Tell you what, Stark, I'll give you a five minute head-start when we find her. See if you can catch her on your own," Clint smirked.

"Could with my eyes closed, Barton. In fact, will." Tony got up from the conference table and cracked his fingers. "Heading out, when?"

"Now. There's not much time to waste," Fury noted. "Don't do anything stupid either."

"Aw, Nick, didn't know you worried about me," Tony said with mock affection.

"Not as much worried about you as what your cocky ass gets me into sometimes. Now that you're working as part of the Initiative, you're going to have to act with a little more forethought."

Tony snorted. "Some of my best ideas come from impulse." He gave a flippant salute and then walked out of the conference room, seeming to walk on clouds of his own confidence.

Fury gave an exasperated sigh. "Our definitions of 'best' are very different…" He looked over to Clint as the other man rose up, starting to follow after Tony. "I'm counting on you, Agent Barton."

"Won't disappoint you, sir," Clint said decidedly as he left as well with an inclination of his head.

Coulson looked toward Fury with a raised brow, but a smile still on his face. "You sure you don't want me to accompany them, sir?"

"You've done enough for now, Phil," Fury told him easily. "Let them give it a shot and we'll see where we're at. It couldn't get any worse than it already is."

"Wouldn't say that too loudly, sir," Coulson chuckled. "But, for the record, I wouldn't have been distracted."

"Lying doesn't suit you, Phil."

Next chapter: Chapter 2, "If She Be Worthy"

#loki laufeyson #loki x fem!oc #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #thor odinson #thor movies #thor the dark world #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #angst with a happy ending #slow burn

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samantha-rae-velcher · 1 year

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General's Gaze

General Zod x Fem reader

Requested by: @mask-knife-is-heimdalls-wife

Warnings: Smut, swearing, threats, mentions of killing.

A/n: 18+ (tho I don't really care)

Summary: Y/n is human, Kal and her grew up together on earth. (In this story Krypton wasn't destroyed and Kal's family is still alive. Kal brings Y/n to his planet and Zod can't help his fascination in the human female.

__________________________________

"Kal! Are you for real!?" Y/n yelled while she slammed her suit case. "I actually get to meet your folks and see your planet!?"

He stood behind her smiling and shaking his head.

"Yes, but they've never met a human before. It is quite different there."

She turned to him and grabbed his forearms, not being able to reach his shoulders. "Is there sufficient oxygen!? I don't wanna get there and die cuz I can't breathe!"

"Don't worry, Krypton has oxygen."

Y/n nodded and put her hands on her hips

"Good good....h-how are we getting there? Not like we can't book a plane ticket or take the bus."

Kal walked into the living room and sat on the couch, Y/n fallowed him. She went into the kitchen and snatched a soda out of the fridge, throwing one to him. Y/n cracked hers open, she leaned against the counter and took a swig, pointing at Kal.

"So, you gonna fly us there? Or we takin a trip to NASA to snag a rocket? Or are you gonna phone one of your relatives?"

"We're taking the ship I came in." Kal replied.

"Alright, let's go."

______________

Kal and Y/n entered the ship, she sat down in one of the seats and cracked her knuckles.

"You know how to fly this thing?" She asked.

"It flys itself, I just have to punch in the location."

"Let's do it."

___

A couple hours went by, as Y/n just watched the stars pass by the window. She began to doze off, leaning back in her chair. Y/n heard a voice in her head, a man's voice. It was dark, controlling. When she finally drifted into sleep, a tall man came into view.

"Hello, my dear." He said. The man gently caressed her face, she couldn't help but be attracted. He had short dark hair, beautiful blue eyes that cold kill. Every curve of his muscles was perfectly outlined with a black suit that was a material she couldn't Identify.

"W-Who are you?" She stuttered.

"General Zod, you're on your way to Krypton?"

He began circling her. Y/n's nervous levels rising, Zod's gaze was so intense she thought she would melt.

"Yeah...your suit...it looks like Kal's. Are you from Krypton."

Zod stopped behind her, leaning forward. She could feel his breath on her neck....dang he was close.

"Yes, I look forward to seeing you."

"Why am I dreaming of you?" She asked, spinning around.

"I have the abilities to enter your dreams....turn them into nightmares if I desire."

Chills ran down her spine, she quickly turned to him. Y/n nodded and rubbed her hands together, she looked him up and down assessing just what the fuck she was looking at.

"Alright, you've gotta be just a figment of my imagination. Because this?" She motioned up and down. "This pristine chunk of man can't be real....I'm sorry."

Within a blink of an eye, Zod whipped out a knife and impaled her in the side.

The air caught in her throat, and she tasted blood. A smirk spread across his face.

"Now am I real?"

".....we'll see."

With that Y/n yanked herself out of her dream, she flew forward almost hitting the panel in front of her. Kal grabbed her just in time and pulled her back into her seat.

"Woah! You alright!?"

She didn't answer, she immediately touched her side. There wasn't a wound...but there was pain.

"We'll see." She repeated.

"We're here." Kal said.

_______________

Y/n walked with Kal and a couple of guards, they were lead into a large room, as they entered she scanned everyone she passed. Looking around the room, it was bright. Blue and gold lined the wallls, doors, and windows.

As they got closer to what she assumed was a throne of some sort, she locked eyes with a man...The man. That same smirk, those blue eyes, that dark expression that could kill the devil.

Kal had to stop Y/n from walking into someone, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Y/n!"

"Huh? Yeah....what!?"

He pointed at a rather handsome man in front of them, the man smiled and nodded.

"This is my father."

Y/n held out her hand, to which he looked confused. She glanced over at Kal then back at his father. She smiled, took his and and slowly shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Y/n Y/L/n."

"Jor-El."

Y/n heard slow heavy footsteps behind her, Kal's father looked over and smiled.

"Ah, Y/n. This is General Zod."

She spun around, his expression not faulting Zod looked her up and down.

"If you come with me, I'll show you to your room."

Y/n looked over at Kal, she was scared. She didn't know this man, he was fuckin scary. She didn't think he was real.

He watched as she felt where he had stabbed her, that smirk returned.

"Come." Zod said, she could tell by the way he said it he wasn't suggesting shit, it was a command.

"Mk, I'm comin."

___________________

They trudged through the halls, she started to question if they had a destination at all. Y/n swore they passed that painting three times before.

"Mind telling me just who the fuck you are?"

"I suggest you don't speak to me in that manner."

They rounded the corner and she was suddenly pressed to the wall, she could feel the cold metal of his blade pressed to her side again.

"You wonder why I chose you?" He asked.

"Yeah, just outta no where you just decided "Oh well shit, this is a good time to jump into her dreams, stab her to make a point that wasn't made until twenty minutes ago."

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her jaw, she flinched.

"Please. Don't."

"Shh, I've chosen you. You're mine. Any man touches you and I will kill them."

"Christ, you that obsessed?"

________________

Time passed and Y/n felt his gaze on her back constantly, she tried to tell Kal but he thought it was funny. She attempted to tell other women but they got jealous and brushed it off.

Everytime another man came close to her or attempted to flirt, he randomly came out of thin air, scaring the absolute fuck out of her.

"Why hello." A man with blonde hair said. "Im Kad-Von. I've seen you around, you are most beautiful."

Y/n smiled and crossed her arms, the man came closer setting his hand beside her head on the wall.

"Wow, you're really close."

"I see the way you cower in the gaze of Zod. I can protect you from him."

This man was getting way to friendly, she could kick his ass if she knew that they wouldn't shoot her into space.

"I believe that-"

"What do you think you're doing?" The man was interrupted by a deeper voice.

"Zod! W-what are you doing here?"

"Keeping you from making a serious mistake, take your hand off the wall and step away from her."

Y/n actually felt relief when he came around the corner, she couldn't saw why but she felt safe.

"Woah woah, Zod. This woman isn't your property."

"Remove yourself from our presence or I'll show you just how wrong you are."

Zod stepped closer, the other man chuckled and shook his head, he leaned in for a kiss but Y/n smacked him and ran.

She could hear a scream coming from behind her, Y/n didn't know what the General was doing to that guy, frankly she didn't wanna know.

Y/n went crashing through a crowd of people, more men looking at her like she was fried chicken. She bolted inside, and pushed her way into her room. Y/n went to slam the door but Zod caught it and pushed it back open, making Y/n stumble to the floor.

The General closed the door and slowly stalked towards her. Y/n stood up, her back hit the wall and Zod came so close she could feel his breathe upon her neck.

"He didn't deserve you, I do."

Zod's lips crashed into hers, making her moan. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her leg anto his hip.

"I've been watching you for a long time. Long before that day in your dream." He whispered.

Zod spun her around to face the wall and pulled up her skirt. She pressed her ass against his groin, he leaned forward so his chest was against her back.

"You want this? Huh? You want my cock?"

"Y-yes, please."

She suddenly felt his cock slide into her, they both let out groans as he started to thrust.

"Mine." Zod whispered in her ear. "Mine."

He held her hands above her head and thrusted hard into her, with his other hand he gripped her throat and gently squeezed.

"Say it."

"Hmm?"

"Who do you belong to?"

"Ah, fuck. Y-you."

His grip became tighter, he pulled her head back against his shoulder.

"Who?"

"G-General Zod."

THE END ❤️

#fyp #fanfic #foryou #foryoupage #x reader #smut #requested #general zod #general zod x reader #general Zod x Fem reader #Zod x reader #zod x fem reader #dru zod #dru-zod x reader #dru-zod x Fem reader

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martian-garden · 16 days

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Discord Group was discussing how fear of AMAB bodies in queer spaces happened and here's my experience from watching some of the beginnings of modern "inclusive language" (afab, amab) getting weaponized. Putting it here in case anyone else has seen similar shit or is curious to see what happened to me. For the purposes of perspective, as this happened around me, I still identified as a woman at this time/was an egg.

>not to oversimplify how we got here, but basically a bunch of feminists (real) started talking about the trauma many women have with men (valid). and then a bunch of (ime) baby feminists who had not done an extensive amount of work and had lost the plot of Gender Equality being the intended result of feminism started blaming men as individuals for the patriarchy, instead of other people caught up in an unbelievably complex system in which all players are trapped. and then that validated people's reflexive distrust for transfem people and nb amabs, AND trans men who pass, and ALSO hurt cis men who are BTW ALSO VICTIMS HERE, THERE ARE VERY FEW WINNERS IN TOXIC MASCULINITY, it's a societal framework, not a deliberate attempt unless you're fuckin andrew tate or someone richer than balls with serious social swing. and yeah then we got to a point where like. afab people of all genders are sometimes rly fucking asinine around amab people of all genders bc they've been taught that their trauma responses, which are frequently genuine, are in fact okay reasons to treat people like shit

>that's my take anyway

>it's imo part of a broader societal phenomenon where the access to information about therapy and therapy terms and concepts without being able to GO to therapy bc of trash healthcare costs and lack of coverage means that people are validating each other's trauma without the main core of therapy, which is doing work to mitigate it. so you have a lot of people repeating stuff like "your feelings are valid" while missing the plot, which is that no. feelings are feelings. they're things that happen to you for (a) reason(s), and they're not your FAULT, but they should not dictate your behavior. feelings are like a sensory input. they are information and a reaction that you need to work in concert with. and sometimes they don't like something that they have no business not liking, or that maybe they have business disliking, but WOULD HURT OTHER PEOPLE if you acted on them.

The issue is that people are trying to use therapy terms to justify themselves and their pain (ok) but not actually realizing that it's part of a maladaptive response that does damage--to you and to the people around you (not ok). but bc they don't have access to the second half of that, they just get stuck in a loop of Bad Feeling = sign to avoid thing or Bad Feeling = i shouldn't have to feel that way, without critically engaging with why or how it's also kind of your responsibility to make yourself not feel bad.

This essay brought to you by a guy who spent 4 years at a college with 4 therapists, at least 2 of whom were quacks (small town, no off-campus resources) and 1300 students, over half of which were in some kind of active crisis at any given time. I watched the Sexuality and Gender Alliance club start hosting events "only for women and afabs" bc amab people, regardless of sometimes being women, were going to make it so that people were traumatized, despite pushback from several AFAB NB PEOPLE who didn't like being lumped in with women or divorced from their own masculinity.

btw if you're wondering, the painting of AFAB people as victims and inherently vulnerable DEFINITELY contributed to the TERF notion of women being inherently harmless, in need of protection, and also that femininity is delicate. It just reinforced the shitty gender norms that OG feminists wanted to destroy. It's very fucked up.

Anyway to any young feminists: AMAB people are your friends, your allies, your family. trans people's assigned sex or genitals are not inherently traumatizing, just like someone's scarring isn't inherently traumatizing. Trauma isn't a god. Stop giving it that power to hurt other people, even if you don't perceive them as vulnerable--bc GUESS WHAT, EVERYBODY IS- and rob you of some of the most precious connections you'll ever have.

#queer #mars speaks #personal experience #i don't wanna tag this queer history bc i am not a universal experience.#but idk did other people see this happen?#i'm at the end of the millennials and beginning of gen Z for people of similar ages to weigh in.#PLEASE by all means lmk if you have experiences that inform on this phenomena #gender #transgender

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stars-in-a-jam-jar · 5 months

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You ever think about how fucked up it is that children in military families are surrounded by messages that their parents and other close relatives are Heroes who are In Danger Protecting Them whenever they leave home? Like. I only have the experience of it you get from living in Texas where it also kinda fuses and intersects with and reinforces the evangelism in a lot of ways, but I can't imagine pro-military tactics are much different in other places. If service isn't compulsory, the main way you draw people in is with the promise of being Cool Noble Heroes Protecting The Country when in reality their lives and bodies and personal goals are just being exploited for the aims of whoever happens to be in charge of this grander landmass.

And while I've seen people talk about how that whole paradigm is Bad For Global Society (because it is) and preys on the poor and otherwise disenfranchised/marginalized (because it does) I don't think I've seen anyone directly point out how it will fuck a kid up to be told 'Your parent/older sibling/otherwise close one is a big cool tough hero who goes into dangerous situations willing to sacrifice anything, specifically their own life, to keep you and the countless strangers in the nation Safe.' over and over and over again in countless insidious ways.

Like, imagine you are 5 years old and it's normal to you for your Mom not to be home, because she's been on and off deployed or multiple towns over on drill or doing other vaguely defined military shit on-base since before you were born. The main outfit you can imagine her in is camouflage, with your last name and various other incomprehensible words and symbols velcroed in various places on it. You like her shiny silver necklace with the square charms that go clink-clink, and you ask someone older than you if you can have one, and you're told 'Oh, no, you get that when you're a soldier.' 'But why can't I have one now?' and they now have the choice to either leave you frustrated that you are being left out of the loop on your mom's necklace, or they tell you 'Those are dog tags. They're used to identify a soldier in case they die. You don't need them.' If they're detailed, they add, 'You can't always identify a body depending on the way they die.' And as years go on people mince words less and less and you're taught sometime in middle or high school that dog tags as a practice started during the civil war amongst soldiers when they realized they didn't know who to send some of the corpses home to.

Imagine you're 7, and at school you're given one of those 'What job does your parent have?' worksheets that are meant to teach kids how to write comprehensible statements. Your Mom is a mechanic, and you know a lot of what the things in her toolbox are for. You feel very smart for being able to identify different models of car and knowing that cars don't just have engines, but batteries and cooling systems. Your Dad hasn't been home more than a week for the past two months. All you know is what the TV and other military kids say about what being in the army is like. You write down what you've heard. Your dad has a very important job. He protects everybody from danger and knows how to use a gun. He 'puts his life on the line'. A phrase you have heard so many times, it has ceased to mean anything. If it ever really meant anything to you when you first heard it. Whenever that was.

Imagine you're 11, and your older sibling gets home from their first deployment. They're a little jet lagged, and they almost don't recognize you because you grew out your hair some while they were gone and grew out of half your clothes. They give you a big hug and your parents say welcome home and you completely forget how just last month you were playing out in your head a situation where you got a call saying they weren't coming home and strategizing your whole life for a night around them not being there, because for all you know, that could happen anytime. Any day. Whenever they are not in your sight, they could be in danger. But of course you don't need to worry. They're home now, they'll be in danger again later, and right now, they brought you souvenirs for your birthday they missed.

And they do it for you. They do it because they're heroes. They do it because they're brave and the best and amazing. They do it because everybody needs them. Everybody, not just you. Your family doesn't belong to you, your family belongs to the country. The first people who you ever had the chance to be important to, who ever had the chance to be important to you, could disappear from your life and you wouldn't know it until the call came through from wherever they'd been disappeared off to.

Like, maybe it's bad to tell children that's Good Actually.

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furiousgoldfish · 1 year

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Hi - isolated anon again.

What you said about cults really surprised me, but I realized that it did apply to some degree. I've always felt a lot of relatability to cult survivors, even though I never considered myself to be one and I never understood why.

I spent a while on the internet last night and learned about something called narcassitic family dysfuntion, which is when the family dysfuntion works like a cult around the narcassitic person, typically the parent.

Like it's not a cult in the traditional sense, but the same effects of a cult happen - the isolation, manipulation, self worth issues, the world revolving around the narcassit who can do no wrong, etc.

https://www.scapegoatrecovery.com/2022/08/05/10-rules-of-families-that-scapegoat/

^ here's an article I found that summarizes pretty much what all the others did really well. I'd never heard of this type of abuse before and I was really surprising.

You are right that Im an adult, 19, and for as long as I can remember my mom always says something like "oh it's not safe out there" when I ask to go somewhere by myself, or "I would feel more comfortable if I knew where you were going/ if you didn't go" and Im not allowed to go out at night, as, being female, Im apparently going to get kidnapped/assaulted. (Even though we live somewhere really safe) (and, honestly, getting kidnapped seems like a relief). Because all the isolation was framed for my safety, I never questioned it until I got older and I really started to feel the pull of wanting to Leave. My mom still uses that same excuse. That it's for safety that she needs to know where I am all the time and I have to text her any time I go somewhere to let her know I made it/when Im going home.

I tried to talk to my therapist about the isolation and how much it bothered me, but they just told me to push harder against my mom and like. That's not how this works. I cannot win one of these arguments. Like I never have. ever. It's so hard to describe just how all consuming this is. My mom always pulls out the guilt treatment when I want to go out and I feel like Rapunzel. I know it's not normal and I hate it. But it feels like the most mild thing that's going on at home. And to be clear, I can go outside onto the property, in the backyard, whenever, but that's kind of it. Also I didn't realize that being able to go anywhere whenever is a human right. That's.... Ah.

I apologize for this word vomit, I guess I'm just trying to process this in your ask box.

I guess I was also wondering if soon, if it's okay, you'd be willing to make a post about enmeshed families? I would find that really helpful.

Also - was it you who made the post about how to identify if you're being held captive by your parents, or was that someone else, I can't remember.

Thank you for answering my ask. It was really helpful. I do really sincerly hope you have a good day, but thank you for being willing to talk with us about abuse today. I always really appreciate your thoughts.

"and, honestly, getting kidnapped seems like a relief" THAT is relatable but also a red flag, so many kids feel this, being kidnapped would be something that is provable and generally accepted as a 'very bad thing to happen to you', and it would be a huge relief just to be able to point out the cause of your suffering, opposed to the abuse you're going thru right now, that feels invisible, unprovable.

Abusive parents love acting like letting their children out of the house is 'unsafe', but what it does is simply keep children imprisoned (or even adults, in your case). The way we keep protected in this world is not by staying in forever, because that's not a decent human life, and it's inhumane. We deal with this by teaching the kids how to recognize, identify and deal with the danger. Being female in public is not a problem if you are surrounded with a community of your own, if you have a network of people that you can, at anytime, ask for help, who can get you out of sticky situations, who can watch out for your back.

Generally what most people do is just make sure that their kids can recognize and sus out dangerous people, there are guidelines and rules set in place; you don't go alone in an alley with a person you don't know, if someone gives you a bad vibe, you go and hang around your friends where you are safe, you go home before it's late and people get drunk/violent, if necessary and if you visit very unsafe places, you could even be taught to use a weapon or self-defence, in order to keep safe.

And these rules are usually only necessary at night, at locations where predators are more likely to be, at bars, places people generally get drunk or try to get you drunk. You are hardly in danger going to the convenience store, to the bank, to the beach, to a tourist attraction, to any public place in general. You are unlikely to be kidnapped unless someone would have a great financial incentive to kidnap you at this point (if your parents were so rich they could give out a ransom), and if you're taught to recognize the signs of human trafficking and just be reasonably and rightfully wary of strangers and not give them your information or details, you'd generally be safe.

I've never been in anywhere close as much danger in public as I was at home. People are seen in public and they cannot do the illegal and criminal shit they can do behind closed doors, in their own houses. People in public have to watch out, they can't abuse you as easily, and often even won't recognize you as a target unless you seem inebriated and oblivious.

I can relate a little to the 'outside is dangerous' because one of my family members kept saying that to try and stop me from doing activities outside, but this family member had the least amount of influence, and it didn't stop me. I understand when a family member who has the most amount of influence does this to you, it's a completely different story, and you're effectively trapped. But what they're doing is lying to you. You're not being kept inside in order to be safe. You're not being taught how to spot and avoid danger, and that in itself, is more dangerous. It is, in fact, exactly like Rapunzel, and you're I think, the third person I know of, who recognized themselves in that situation.

I'd love to write more about enmeshed families, but the thing is, this is not an experience I had, and I cannot possibly understand or describe how it feels. I think Jenette McCurdy, in her book 'I'm glad my mom died', describes this way better than I possibly could, so i recommend that you read the book (contact me privately if you want me to send the book to you).

And I agree with you about your therapist not understanding the situation - going against the abuser, without the means to protect yourself, will inevitably end in them realizing they're losing control over you, and they will do something insane, drastic and extremely painful to put you back in order, but you already know that, because it's likely you've already been traumatized in this way and know what to expect. Your therapist doesn't seem to understand how dangerous it is to push against the abusers without any safety (ability to get away from them before they can retaliate).

I did make that post about recognizing if you're held captive, yeah! I'm glad it was helpful. And of course I'm here to talk about abuse. If something written here can help one person clear their mind and recognize their situation, that is huge for me.

#narcissistic family dysfunction #i don't even know every single dynamics that can happen #i only write about things i've experienced #but there are things i didn't so i can't name or describe them

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3d-wifey · 1 year

Note

you better get the connor x eden reader done

If Only For A Second, Let Me Have You

Pairing: Connor x Eden Club/Android!Reader Synopsis: He takes a step closer and gets a glimpse of how the varicolored lights of the club reflect the glitter on your body. Like every other night, he is completely enraptured by you. And, like every other night, he is utterly convinced that there is something wrong with him. Word Count: 2.2k Warning: Morally questionable behavior, smut, a small amount of dirty talk, dubcon?, android typical thought, a little angst, dom!reader, sub!connor A/N: Don't look too deeply into the mechanics of this, alright? I explained as much as I could. You guys are lucky. I originally planned for this to be way sadder. Tags: @ginsspitting

Connor watches as your body, covered only by a lingerie set, twists and gyrates to the club music. You use your arms to hoist yourself up as your body weight swings you around the luminescent pole.

He doesn't need your serial number to know who you were. A WR900; A top-of-the-line sex android. But unlike the other androids of the WR model, your appearance is unique to you and you alone.

That's what first captured his attention. You're a prototype, just like him.

He takes a step closer and gets a glimpse of how the varicolored lights of the club reflect the glitter on your body. Like every other night, he is completely enraptured by you. And, like every other night, he is utterly convinced that there is something wrong with him.

Like all androids, his emotions fully developed after his deviancy. They were always there, if not muddled, muted, and nameless. But once he became a deviant, and came under the grudging guidance of Hank, Connor was able to put a name to the feelings and compartmentalize them.

Things like anger, sadness, joy, and even embarrassment were easy to identify and file away. For a while, Connor was able to say he had a confident grasp on all of his feelings.

Until he saw you.

The first time he saw you, he and Hank had come to the Eden Club to ask the owner a few questions about an incident involving two customers.

You were in a display case, gyrating to the music while the other Traci models tried to get the attention of anyone that passed by. You were in your own world, seemingly uncaring of his eyes on you, and Connor found he wanted to be a part of it.

He thought of you often after that. The directive 'Talk to the WR900' was at the forefront of his CPU, but he chalked it up to being intrigued by the prospect of another prototype.

Yet, he found himself using any excuse he could to see you. It got to the point where he gave up the pretense of being at the club for any other reason but you.

And thus, a new emotion entered his directive. One he couldn't decipher.

The boxsprings bounce underneath him as you push him to sit on the center of the plush bed. You crawl towards him with all the grace of a hunting panther and that's what this is, isn't it? Him voluntarily falling into your orbit like mindless prey.

As a show of customer confidentiality, the Eden Club required all android workers' memories to be reset every two hours. Therein lied the problem: you were all he could think about, but you never remembered him.

There must have been something wrong with him. To do something over and over again, day after day, expecting a different outcome was the definition of insanity.

So why did he still do it?

He ran a self-scan whenever he felt that overwhelming need to drop everything and come to you, and, yet, he never found any damage to his biocomponents. No errors in his coding, no malfunctions, no explanation behind his actions.

Only the command:

Central processing unit: INITIATE FUNCTION_ ANALYZE

Name of function: EMOTION_UNKNOWN

He is the most advanced android to be created and, yet—

You use his shoulders to balance yourself as you sit on his lap and he can feel his interior fans kick up in speed to compensate for his sudden rise in temperature.

Something is wrong with him, but he finds he doesn't really care when he's under you.

"What would you like me to call you?" You run your hand through his hair, nails scratching over his scalp. Connor never thought he would be thanking Kamski for anything, but he's more than grateful for the simulated neurotransmitters that allow him to feel the sensation so vividly.

"Conn—," his voice glitches for a moment as your hands rub up and down his chest, "Connor. You can call me Connor." He answers automatically and his hands go to your wrists, stopping nimble fingers from undoing his belt buckle.

"I'm sorry, would you prefer to take the lead?" You ask and isn't that a novel idea?

He has never let it go further than this. He never had it in him to take advantage of the position you were in.

And, yet, he thought of it often. He thought about what would happen if he allowed you to continue past the almost innocent grinding. Your body writhing under his as his circuits and synapses fired rapidly.

"I—" No matter how much he wants to, Connor can't push himself past this metaphorical cliff. But there's a way around it, a loophole that he can exploit.

"I want–I want to pleasure you. If you'll allow me." If androids could blush, Connor's face would be a resounding blue.

You pause and stare at him.

"I can't say anyone's ever asked to do that," a strange kind of pride fills him at the prospect of doing something with you that no one else has, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm certain."

You settle back, relaxing on your back in the pile of pillows. You wear a coy smile, right foot trailing up his leg. You go all the way to his crotch, before pressing down.

Connor had never pleasured himself before. He had the ability, but never felt the need before. So when you push the heel of your foot into the zipper of his slacks, he collapses forward—barely catching himself on his hands.

"Well, Connor," you pull your knees up and spread your legs for him, "What are you waiting for?"

He lifts up, only leaving the haven between your thighs to take his jacket off.

He's never done this before, but he's integrated with a honeypot feature. He'll just act on instinct.

He switches off the analytical component of his tongue and grabs your legs. Plush thighs skin spills between his fingers.

Grip tight on your thighs, he licks a strip up the crotch of your panties. You sigh in pleasure, encouraging him to go further.

He knows the fabric dulls the pleasure you feel, so he exaggerates his movements. Tracing the outline of your clit before flattening his tongue against you.

He chases every sound you make, doubling his efforts as if the cloth wasn't there. He finds himself moving his hips against the bed, grinding into the seam of his pants.

"You enjoying—hah—yourself down there, Connor," he glances up and locks eyes with you. Your lids are lowered, barely open, as you smile down at him, "

He nods. He is enjoying himself. He didn't suggest going down on you selflessly. He likes being able to do this for you.

"Mmm, no, I wanna hear you. Say it. Say it makes you hard to lick my panties." Your fingers dance over the back of his neck before lacing through his hair. He groans when you yank his head up.

He gasps as you tighten your grip despite not needing to breathe. You won't let him continue if he doesn't say it.

"It–it makes me hard to lick your panties." He's rewarded with you easing your grip on his hair and, more importantly, you pulling your underwear aside.

You push him down which is unnecessary, since he was diving back down regardless.

"Stick your tongue out," he does as he's told and you buck against his mouth, "Fuck, Connor." You pull his head side to side, using the drag of his tongue to get off, and he goes along willingly, letting you use him as an instrument for your pleasure. Here, he can almost convince himself that you're just as desperate as he is.

He moans at the taste of you and you buck against him again. Slick covers his chin and cheeks, but he pays no mind to it, burying his face further into you.

You grip the sheets with your free hand as you whine. You throw your leg over his shoulder and use your foot to press his hips into the bed, he shudders. Connor glances up again and coming in his pants becomes a very real possibility.

And something happens as he watches you throw your head back in pleasure. Something clicks.

Central processing unit: INITIATE FUNCTION_ ANALYZE

Name of function: EMOTION_INFATUATION

Cause: ANDROID_MODEL WR900_DETERMINANT

Oh.

He can feel the vibration of your thumping thirium pump against your chest. It beats the same as his. He rubs his hand along the soft skin of your arm. Synthetic fluid covers your plastic body underneath. Same as his.

Yet, he is alive and you...

He shifts his head to glance up at you, only to find your gaze already on him. Vacant eyes staring back, awaiting instructions.

Why aren't you like him?

"Connor? Is something wrong?" Your dulcet voice calls out to him. You're smiling at him so sincerely, like you genuinely care for him. As if you hold any actual concern for his well-being.

However, Connor won't delude himself into believing there are any thoughts behind your eyes besides the ones you're programmed to have. He rationalizes that you only seem to care about him so deeply and honestly because you are programmed to. He briefly wonders if you hold anyone else like this and he quickly gets rid of the idea, because of course you do.

You have no other choice.

You do whatever you're told to because you had no free will. You aren't alive, not like him.

But you could be, couldn't you? What's stopping him from interfacing with you and tearing down the brick wall of code keeping you trapped?

Everything in him is telling him to free you from the cruel role fate made you play. And, yet, he doesn't. He doesn't because there's an even bigger part of him that is afraid.

00: 15: 02

A little over fifteen minutes. That's how long he has until it all restarts, until it all crumbles around him. You won't know who he is and it'll be like none of this ever happened.

What would happen if he did deviate you?

Maybe you'd have some form of hero worship towards him for his part in freeing androids—freeing you. But that isn't the love he wants—it isn't real. It isn't like the love he saw between the Tracis.

You won't act as you do now: fingers combing through his hair; content to be near him because of who he is and not because of what he did.

Would you judge him? Fear him because of his past? He's almost certain you'd be eager to explore your newfound humanity far from here, far from him. You would want nothing to do with him.

00: 12: 58

Even with his preconstruction, there are too many variables—too many outcomes he couldn't account for. It's selfish and shameful and every other synonym for unfair, but becoming deviant came with human emotions and human flaws.

Your LED switches between blue and yellow as you watch him think. You sit up on the bed with an uncertainty he's never seen in you.

"You're under distress. Would you like to end your session early, Connor?" He stops his train of thought at the apprehension in your voice. He didn't even notice his LED was red.

"No, I—"

00: 10: 46

He has no words to explain what he's feeling, no way to explain to you—or himself—why he's doing this. And with no words of his own, the best course of action is to show you.

Pale skin recedes over his hand to reveal his glossy casing and he holds it out to you.

"What are you doing, Connor?"

There is no uncertainty; no second guessing. Once the idea was generated, Connor knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would do it.

"I'm taking a risk."

You pause, LED flickering between yellow and red, before copying his movements. The skin of your right hand bleeds back and the shiny white polymer looks identical to his as you take his outstretched hand.

He accepts the pending request of 'Interface' and the feeling, it's undefinable.

Opening up and letting you into his mind is more than a simple exchange of information. It feels like a bridge being built over what was once a gaping chasm between the two of you.

You're tentative at first, probing different lines of code before settling into the connection. Along with his memories of you, he shows you thousands of poems, paintings, and sculptures depicting love. The Lovers by Rene Magritte. Adoration by Stephan Sinding. To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell.

And as you absorb it all, he hesitantly pushes the feeling forward. The emotion he's only just been able to put a name to.

'What is this,' you prompt through your shared link, 'this feeling.' Connor would have thought he imagined the awe in your tone if he wasn't so intently focused on you and any inflection you would send through the connection.

'An explanation,' he answers, 'and a choice.'

His voice is strong, nerves hidden, when he tells you, "Wake up."

The timer in his mind disintegrates and it's impossible, a simple human idiom that couldn't possibly encapsulate this moment, but Connor swears he sees your eyes light up as they filled with life.

#detroit become human #detroit: bh #smut #android smut #angst #sub!connor #dom!reader #morally ambiguous #morally ambiguous Connor #deviant connor #android!reader #dubious morality #dubious consent #open ending #dirty talk

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some-pers0n · 27 days

Note

On a related note to that proship Wikipedia page, there's actually a hilarious instance of a radqueer *giving a college speech about the radqueer community and recording it online* lol. Moons above, some people are just so terminally online lol. Bonus points for the fact that the speech doesn't even make sense unless you're intensely following discourse around radqueers, much less even know what they are.

www.archive.org/details/VriskerFic8onRadqueerSpeech

Listening to it and just. jesus christ what am I even hearing. "Transableism isn't ableist because being disabled isn't a bad thing and wanting to be disabled isn't bad" imagine being a college prof and hearing that.

(More inane ramblings below the cut + live reactions)

Not to also mention it just baffles me the idea of, say for example, neurotypicals identifying as "transautistic" because they feel like they are autistic. You can't be serious with me right now. You cannot look me in the eyes and tell me that you are oppressed because you identify as disabled despite being able-bodied. I get it somewhat if it's a OSDD/DID thing and you've got alters and whatnot, but it's just asinine. It's beyond terminally online. The second hand embarrassment from seeing that this was handed in as a project is so intense. You'd have to be toiling in the darkest, deepest parts of the internet to even understand this.

"It can't be offensive because most of us are minorities" ??? WHAT EVEN IS THAT LOGIC??? Like can you apply that logic to fandom racism? Like imagine people calling somebody out for racism and they went "erm I polled my followers and most of them were queer minorities so it's not offensive" are you kidding me.

Oh my fucking god of course they're a Vriska kinnie. The way they're describing being "transcharacter" makes me nauseous like... Okay, fine, I understand kinning characters. This stuff here sounds like a cult or signs of some sort of dissociative disorder. My sibling in science you need help if you genuinely feel like harming yourself over not being a fictional character.

"I'm trans-half-blind" be serious with me rn. Be fr. Be honest with me here

I do very much agree that harassment and doxing is utterly vile and I feel for these people and how they've been affected, but I don't think suffering immediately makes their identity any more valid. You can't just be. transdisabled. You are either able-bodied and wearing an eyepatch for fun or you're actually disabled.

The thing with these transdisabled people is that they never identify with "gross" disabilities either. Where's the transdisabled people who want feeding tubes. Where's the transdisabled people who claim that they've got dysphoria because they don't have a oxygen tank. What about the disabilities that aren't easy to make you look cool and edgy? Don't got dysphoria for that now, huh?

God I hate fakeclaiming people with mental disorders but I also think that you gotta have at least something with you in order to feel dysphoria about not being a system or not having autism.

Again imagine being a normal well-adjusted person who (at most) has a Snapchat and Instagram account and hearing this. They just talk about this stuff like you're already aware of it. Goodness gracious. The thing here too is that I'd be terrified of giving them a bad mark for being, well, incomprehensible in case they decided to take that as me being a violent bigot and further harm themselves.

What are they even talking about right now

Why are they talking about the Oxford dictionary

"This calls us attention seekers. Well, don't you know that attention seeking is a sign of emotional neglect?" you didn't debunk the argument. You just said: "Well, yeah, maybe we are attention seekers, but don't you know we're also traumatized? Boom, gotcha there. Now you can't criticize us because we're traumatized"

OH MY GOD THEY ACTUALLY WEAR AN EYEPATCH WDHUAIWHAIUA--

Oh how brilliant of a conclusion: people are people and not everyone's emotions and experiences are the same. How ground-breaking. Curious, I wonder what it would be like to ask a person who has a missing or damaged eye their thoughts and opinions on a transcharacter Viriska wearing an eyepatch and telling people they're disabled. I wonder how they'd feel.

God this whole thing is so immature. They call anybody who disagrees with them a child when they themselves have been doing little more than make cheap arguments, curse, and barely formulate even a single coherent thesis statement. It doesn't even sound like they have a script, more like ramblings straight from the heart.

Kid, I don't really care if a person is transID or whatever it's called. I care if they're a decent person more than anything. I'm not going to maul them and drag them into the streets for people to stone to death. Why do you act like you're oppressed in this way? I get that you and your friends have been mistreated, but to be honest it's still like. ridiculous to me.

Please don't...gouge your eye out...

I know I've said it before but GOD imagine being a prof and receiving this. I would be utterly terrified and don't know what to do because it's clear the person is not exactly in. stable condition mentally.

#ask #ash

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twoidiotwriters1 · 1 year

Text

Copycat: Genesis —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: The classics duo reunites -Danny

Words: 1,767

Phase Six Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat’ -by Del Water Gap

xi: The Last Phase

Cat got up, her entire body felt like she'd been carrying thousands of rocks on her back, it was stiff and cold. "Did it work?" She coughed.

"Looks like it..." Peter was studying their surroundings, but he made no attempt to get up and investigate properly.

"Did Edith come along? We need her!"

"She could've fallen somewhere around us... but I can't see..."

That's when Cat realized it was pitch-black, the only reason why she was able to see him was thanks to her mutated eyesight. "EDITH!" She yelled out.

A light ignited several feet ahead of Peter, the A.I.'s voice was like music to her ears.

"Hello, C.C."

"Holy shit!" Peter jumped when he saw Cat's eyes in the dim light, the greenish reflection coming from them was unnerving. "You've always been able to do that?"

"Do what?"

"The Gollum eyes," he said with a weird voice.

She was amused by his comment, but also a little insulted. "You never noticed 'cause I wear goggles at night, precisely so I can protect them from bright stuff," then she added in a quiet voice, "Peter thought it was cool, not ugly."

"I never said it was ugly," he was quick to correct. "It caught me off guard, that's all. But it's lucky, I didn't bring a flashlight or my phone, and we need to see where we're walking to get out."

"Grab Edith," she requested in a cold voice. "I'll get us out."

The mention of his seemingly perfect variant made Parker desperate to get back to her good graces, but he was only making things worse. "You can teleport, though..."

"I know," she struggled to ignore her increasing heartbeat. She couldn't wait to see her friends again. "Get up, let's hope Mouse is in good hands..."

E.D.I.T.H. was able to track M.O.U.S.E. and Cat was delighted to find out he was in the city. The place where he was, though, she didn't identify it.

"Maybe it's Kate's apartment?" Parker suggested.

"She said she'd move out," her eyes darkened. Maybe Kate had decided to stay in case she came back, Cat didn't want that. "We should be careful."

Breaking into the apartment was easier than they thought it'd be. The window had been left unlocked. Parker walked into the building like a normal person, she'd forbid him from using his powers in this universe.

"So... is this Kate's apartment?"

"No," she couldn't hide the smile that formed on her face. "This place screams Peter Parker."

The young man looked around hesitantly. "It does..?"

"Oh, you wouldn't know," she brushed it aside. "It's like trying to hear your own voice. But look," she pointed at the picture on the nightstand. "That's us."

Parker grabbed the photograph and stared at it with a strange look in his eyes.

"My first birthday party," she told him. "That's my old dream team."

"Yeah, I remember them," he looked at her.

Cat beamed, it was nice being able to remember her youth. "Look at how young we look! Man, that was a good night. I had my first kiss at that party."

Parker was saved from having to hear how happy she'd been with his variant when the front door opened. Peter walked into the apartment with his head down, he was fixing his camera, swearing under his breath. He closed the door with a kick, and Cat shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She hadn't made any noise, but the young hero froze at the movement.

Peter's head snapped up and his eyes widened. "C.C?!"

Her smile grew. "Webs!"

"Holy shit!" He forgot about his camera and rushed to her, he hugged her tight. "You're alive!"

The young man lifted her off the ground and squeezed her as close as he could. Cat laughed and returned the gesture, she was also half-crying. When he put her down, he handed her the camera and cupped her face, examining the scars that were left where the inhibitor used to be.

"'M—phine!" She tried to speak with his hands still pressing her face.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" He exclaimed in shock. "You just vanished— and I just, I didn't—"

"You didn't know if I'd died," she moved his hands away from her.

"Yeah," his gaze softened. "I thought I'd never see you again."

She gave him a little sad smile. "I know how that feels."

Peter realized what she meant and understanding washed over him, he couldn't imagine going through five years of not knowing without going a little crazy, no wonder she'd changed after the blip!

"Where have you been? You have no idea—"

"Yes! Exactly!" She squeezed his wrists, giving him a look. "I need to know what happened after I disappeared."

"Sure! One question, though," he pointed at the ceiling, Parker had jumped as soon as he heard Peter walking into the home. "Is Peter three up there, or have I gone completely crazy?"

Parker spoke from above them. "Hi Pete, I'm not a hallucination."

She scowled. "He wants to ask you for a favor, but if I can give my opinion, it'd be best to send him back empty-handed."

Peter looked up at the older version of himself with confusion. "You okay, man?"

Parker jumped off the ceiling and landed next to her. "Cat can't go back to her apartment, and you two don't fit in here."

Peter looked at her with a guilty expression. "That's right— we need to talk, C..."

"I can sleep on the couch," she offered quickly.

"The couch's not even large enough to fit the two of you in a sitting position," Parker pointed out.

"I don't sleep much anyway," she gave Parker a harsh look. "Let's share the bed, Pete, it wouldn't be the first time—"

"Pete's girlfriend—"

"Peter doesn't have a girlfriend. MJ forgot about him, remember?"

"Having you in here will only distract him!" He seemed to be talking from experience. "No, you need to find another place."

Peter interrupted their argument. "He's got a point, C. If Kraven tracks me down, he'll find the both of us— it's better if we're not in the same place."

Cat's shoulders fell. "So you haven't found him?"

"It's not that we haven't found him," Peter grimaced. "We're hiding from him."

She felt terrible, it was all her fault. "Tell me where are the others."

"Well, after I failed to stop you, you know, like every Tuesday," he taunted her, "Kate took Nightcrawler to Harley's place and they did their best, we assumed you were alive cause I saw when Parker saved you from getting hit by a truck, but you went missing after that..."

Peter told them E.D.I.T.H. could not be found either, and when they checked the traffic cameras they saw a weird detonation had taken place, but people didn't know what had caused it, and he wouldn't have known either if he hadn't seen that same thing happening years back when Strange's spell had malfunctioned.

"Edith's tracker died when you left, so we lost track of Russo and Kraven," he sighed. "Kate had to leave the city that night, she's hiding with Yelena in L.A. and they report back to me every week."

"Kurt?" Cat held her breath. "He's..?"

"Rocket picked him up two days after that," Peter looked out the window and pointed at the sky. "He's safe."

She held his hand. "He's okay?"

Peter smiled at her a little, his gaze bright and adoring. "You saved his life, C."

"It was my fault in the first place," her eyes darkened, "Where are Billy and Kraven?"

"Hang on, so Kurt and Kate are fine," Parker interrupted their talk. "What about you and her friend Keener?"

"Kraven doesn't know my identity, so I'm safe as long as I'm careful," Peter shrugged. "I take Mouse with me every night during patrol and get its fleas to follow me around to make sure I'm not being observed."

"And Harley?"

"Well, he has a whole trope of bodyguards watching his every move," he explained briefly. "I don't think he's in danger as long as you stay out of Kraven and Billy's sight."

"If they gave up on finding me, that means they moved on to their next target, and I don't like that," she said in alarm. "'Cause, the next thing was a secret lab full of mutants."

"You mean one that's real?" He frowned, "not another trap to try and lure you in?"

"What are you guys talking about?" Parker inquired, she hadn't mentioned that part of the whole story.

"While I was working for Stark industries I got intel that someone was hunting down mutants, but instead of going and investigating myself, I sent other heroes. They didn't think I'd do that. When Bucky told me Kraven had something to do with the lab I knew it'd been a trap—"

"Kraven was planning to corner her in that place like she'd cornered his brother," Peter added. "But she was smarter than them."

"I wasn't," she made a face, "I knew someone was following me and I still showed them Kate, and they'd already gotten Kurt by the time they went to get me— I only pushed back his plans a couple of hours, but they got me—"

"You got away in the end, again," Peter insisted. "And you took the only mutant they'd caught apart from you—"

"But if they got new ones already—"

"They don't."

"How do you know?"

"I told you, Kate and Yelena keep me posted."

"And how do they know?"

"Yelena's questionable friendships."

"Okay, then what's their plan?" She scowled.

"Well, it's only been a month, C," he raised a brow, "I don't think they'd given up, maybe they're waiting for you to show up at their doorstep, that's what you always do," he put one hand on her shoulder, "but they're one step ahead, and you have no suit and no weapons. It wouldn't be wise to go after them alone."

Parker got to his feet. "Okay, so what do we do?"

"We, are doing nothing," she pointed a finger at him. "You're going home."

"Jane—"

"She's right," Peter said. "Your world needs you. It's got no heroes apart from you, right?"

"No," he said, giving her a reproachful look. "Could use a bit of help, from time to time."

Cat avoided his eyes. "I need a place to stay, Peter."

"We could call—"

"We're not calling Harley," she was quick to reply. "Nor Happy."

"I wasn't going to say any of those," he frowned. "I don't have their numbers!"

Cat tilted her head. "You don't have Harley's number?"

"No!" He exclaimed. "Why would I?"

"You know Kurt—"

"I know Kurt cause he's a mutant but Harley is just a guy— not like I've had any opportunity to introduce myself—"

"Would you like that?" She inquired. "I could help you out, is he the CEO of Stark industries already, or—"

"You're sidetracking," Parker warned them.

"Sorry! It's just that Cat knows a lot of people and she thinks I know them too but..." Peter tilted his head. "Wait. Hang on a minute— I know one!"

"Really?" She questioned, having no clue. "Who?"

"Daredevil!"

Next chapter—>

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae @ieatpanicattacksforlunch @jesuswasnotawhiteman @siriuslysirius1107 @greengarsstuff @itsyagirl01 @23victoria @espressopatronum454 @jkthinkstoomuch

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel original character #copycat fic

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burningupp · 3 years

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written under the cut!

eighteen: stupid

<<< masterlist >>>

Taglist (open):

@missmadwoman @jovialdelusionbouquet @sopebubbles @sugarcayls @a-noona-mous @emmmui @chimchiekookie @renhold-nightspear @halesandy @gracefulevijlsoul @ephyra1230 @leahknox @somelazysundays @r4yih @jikooksgirl19 @orxphicz3phyrs @secretlycrazyhummingbird @taeshuworld @hannahdinse8 @mybabywearschanel @lovelytaes-blog @salty-for-suga @lyra0cassiopeia @theestrangeddreamer @xianav @gingerspicetalks @unicornbabylover

Immediately after you send the text, you hear the telltale sound of a FaceTime-call breaking through the silence of your apartment. It makes you smile, and shift to sit more upright on the couch - Jimin may be a friend, one of the best ones you've ever had if you're honest, but you don't find the thought of exposing him to your double chin while you lay down particularly enticing.

Since Jimin (and Taehyung, but you try not to let your thoughts linger on him too much) left, talking to the cheerful man had become like habit. He always texted you good morning, asked how your day was when you got home, and wished you sweet dreams before sleeping. Unlike Rosie, he actually took his time to listen and hear you out just as you did the same for him.

No shade to your long-time best friend, but she wasn't particularly attentive to others; an unfortunate trait she had always carried with her.

As soon as you pressed the green button on your screen, Jimin's smiling face made an appearance. The sight of him pulled a smile onto your features, one you couldn't have fought off if you wanted to - the man knew how to cheer someone up.

Jimin seemed to be in a living room of some sort, something that you found rather surprising. The other times the two of you had FaceTimed, he made it a point to provide the both of you with the privacy of his room, door shut tight. You didn't mind much, but the unfamiliar background intrigued you.

"Y/n!" Jimin exclaimed, that large smile never leaving his features.

"Hi Jimin," you smiled back.

Though your greeting may not have been quite as enthusiastic, you were in fact very happy to see your friend. Your days were spent in a kindergarten, after all, and as much as you adored the kids you cared for, they weren't very good conversationalists just yet. Besides, aside from Rosie, you didn't have many friends, definitely none you considered close, in any case. Jimin's presence in your life, in short, was a welcome one.

"How you holding up?" the smiling man asked, gaze softening.

"I told you I'm alright, Min," you chuckled, glaring at him playfully. "I'm not a child."

"I know, but I care about you, love," he answered, pouting a little. It made you giggle at him.

As bothered as you were because of the whole Taehyung-situation, you figured it was no use dwelling too much on it; if he was upset, you didn't know why, and if he expected an apology, he would have to man up and ask for one. You felt guilty, of course you did – it was in your nature to do your best to always keep all your relationships amicable. Still, there wasn’t much you could do if you didn’t even know what to apologize for.

“I know, thank you for your concern,” you told him, smiling sweetly.

“No problem,” the man grinned back, and you briefly reflected on his ability to shift emotions with such speed. “Anyway, I’m sorry for saying those things about Rosie, that was not very cool of me.”

You bristled a little at that, not even having thought much about his less than kind words towards your best friend. Honestly, they were kind of true – Rosie really shouldn’t have gone through your phone without your permission, and definitely shouldn’t have taken Taehyung’s number without yours (or his) permission at all. However, you were very much used to her antics, and therefore tended to gloss over things like this.

“Ah no, it’s okay,” you told your friend, waving him off. “She can be a bit much at times… it does feel a little bit weird when you don’t know her, I suppose.”

Jimin hummed a little, a crease appearing between his brows. He didn’t want to tell you, but he thought Rosie was a horrible influence on you; he thought you deserved much better friends in general, if he was honest. He had heard about her from you, and while you tended to sugarcoat most things in life, the things he heard were still a bit appalling despite it. On top of that, he had seen the way Rosie acted around Taehyung, and the fact that she was manipulating him understandably didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I guess that might be true,” he agreed, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with his opinions on the matter. “Aside from… that whole situation, how are you doing?”

This question caused you some distress. Your gaze fell upon your coffee table, littered with mountainous piles of papers and books, your laptop open in the middle, glaring its bright white light at you. You bit your lip, stress swelling in your chest and threatening to consume you. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath – nothing good would come from stressing about the situation.

“Y/n?” Jimin asked after a few seconds of silence.

Your eyes were burning with the effort of keeping your tears at bay, but you still answered the man as calmly as you could.

“I’m okay. A bit stressed, is all,” you said, tacking on a chuckle at the end as to not clue the man in on your severe distress.

“How come?”

“This one teacher… She was pregnant. Keyword ‘was’. She was in her 36th week when she went into labor, meaning she still had lessons to plan all the way until summer, and she had two weeks left until her maternity leave. Now we have to plan all her lessons quickly, because we have to bring in a substitute and it’s just—” you stopped yourself, taking another deep breath before you hurled all over your fairly new couch. “It’s just a lot.”

Jimin frowned at you through the screen. He could definitely see the dark circles under your eyes, and the mess your hair was due to the incessant pulling. He could see a coffee stain on your sweatshirt, too, and when you covered your face with your hands, your bitten-down nails also became apparent. He really felt for his friend, and wished he could relieve your stress somehow.

Just as he was about to suggest taking a break or a vacation or something, you saw another man walk up behind him. Despite looking the band up online (purely to be able to keep up with Jimin’s stories about his life), you could not place who the unfamiliar man was at first. He had broad shoulders, was reasonably tall, and had brown, messy hair. From the looks of it, the man was about to walk straight past Jimin, before he stopped dead.

“Hey, who are you talking to?”

The man padded up behind your friend, leaning in to see the phone screen. Jimin jumped as soon as he heard his friend speak up, clutching his chest and glaring at the man.

“Yah hyung, you scared me,” he whined, and you giggled, your stress momentarily forgotten.

“Oh, is that Y/n?”

Now that the unfamiliar man was so close, you could identify him as Seokjin, the oldest member of the band. You smiled bashfully and waved a little. “Hi.”

You had never talked to Seokjin before, but he gave off a very friendly aura, even through your phone screen. He smiled back at you, and waved a little too.

“Nice to finally see your face,” he grinned, and your eyes widened. “Taehyung talked a lot about you.”

At the mention of your childhood friend’s name, you froze. Jimin was very good at avoiding mentioning his name, but of course, Seokjin wouldn’t know that the two of you were… not on the best terms at the moment. So, you swallowed down the sudden melancholy that washed over you, and tried your best to smile. It sort of worked.

“Ah, well that’s nice of him. Seokjin, right?” you settled for asking, not wishing to dwell on Taehyung for too long.

“Call me Jin,” the man told you kindly before turning to Jimin. “Our car is here to take us to practice.”

Your sweet friend groaned loudly, pouting at the camera. “I guess I have to go,” he said grumpily.

“I guess you do,” you giggled as Jimin stood up from the couch. “Don’t work too hard and take plenty of breaks, okay? You too Jin!”

You saw Jin pause at your words, turning to grin at the phone once more. “You really are a sweetheart, you know that?”

His words made you blush, because you weren’t very used to compliments, but you appreciated them nonetheless. Jimin was quick to agree with his hyung, reiterating how sweet and kind you were, and your face flamed even hotter.

“Yah, let’s go!” you heard a shout from the background.

“Alright, now I really have to go,” muttered Jimin, smiling softly at you. “Please don’t overwork yourself. You won’t be any good to those kids if you’re burnt out, you know.”

You returned his smile easily. “I will do my best. Now go before someone bursts a blood vessel!”

Jimin giggled before saying a quick goodbye, followed by a shouted one from Jin. Before the screen went dark, though, you saw a man with curly hair walking out the door.

You hated the way your heart sped up at the sight of him.

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elia-de-silentio · 3 years

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The overarching themes of Vanitas no Carte: Identity

The Case Study of Vanitas is a very good, too little known manga (I hope the anime changes something), with some central themes than are exposed in different ways through different characters. In this meta, I want to explore one that was brought to my attention pretty recently: here a little examination on the various ways to face one's own identity in The Case Study of Vanitas.

The Stable Identity( Noè)

Let's start off with the positives, shall we? Noè has probably the most secure personal identity of all the bunch.

And this is pretty amazing, considering everything he went through. He has no memory of his birth family, but gets adopted by some nice people - who die shortly afterwards. Right at their graves, he is kidnapped by slaves, in an accident that left him injured. Then he is bought by someone who actually treats him nicely and is a good mentor for him, he finds many friends his age - and then one of them, the one he was closest to, turns out to be a cursebearer, kills all of the others and then tries to kill him; he is saved by the mentor, who beheads the friend right in front of him. The most immediate emotion is relief for being alive, and he will always feel terrible for that. Then, he has to witness his surviving friend try to cope very badly with her mourning by repressing her identity and try to substitute it with that of her dead twin. That's a lot.

And Noé reacted to all of this by becoming a confident person, kind and attentive to others, but not to the point of being a pushover. I'm not saying he walked away unscathed from the events of his childhood: he regrets the way he handled things with Louis, the way he didn't understand him, and has developed quite the savior complex as a result.

What I'm saying is that he is probably one of the very few well-adjusted people in the psychiatric ward that is Vanitas no Carte. He is still questioning himself, but in a normal way for a nineteen-years-old that has just left a sheltered environment for the big wide world. He is aware of some of his strenghts (his naivete) and is realizing others (putting unfair expectations on other people, underestimating other people due to racial biases); but most importantly, when he realizes these mistakes, he doesn't run away from them or obsess over them believing they make him a horrible person: he recognizes them, apologizes to the wronged person if necessary, and works on improving them.

This isn't to say he's completely happy-go-lucky with no regrets; he feels guilty about being relieved that he lived while Louis died, and he has a lot of uncertainties regarding his identity as an Archiviste and the impact his powers can have on other people. But he managed not to tie his entire identity to that guilt; and as for the second point, Teacher helped him rationalise that and figure out a conduit that didn't undermine him and at the same time showed respect for others. Noè went through several traumas, but received one thing most of the cast didn't: guidance and support from his environment. Whatever Teacher's actual motives are, he shaped a well-balanced person.

The Group Identity (The dhamps, appearently 99% of vampirekind)

"Us dhams are only loyal to each other!" This is what Dante says in one of the first chapters, giving us the first clues to their status as outcasts.

The war between humans and vampires ended up with each deciding to keep to themselves, but dhampires are the living exception to that silent agreement. So, both societies decide to reject them, and they can't find a place in the world unless they stick to others of their own kind. This common history of traumatic experiences of abandonment and subsequent resentment of both human and vampire society for it goes on to create a very strong group identity: the only ones they give a damn about are those like them, everyone else is a potential enemy and is only good to be exploited.

Then, we have the vampire culture. I mean ... it might be because insofar we have met almost exclusively aristocrats obsessed with their respectability ... but they have a lot of prejudices.

You're born under a uncommon moon? You're a pariah. You're mixed race? You're a pariah. Your parents committed a crime? You're a pariah, and are used as a tool. You're born as part of a set of twins? Either you or your sibling are killed at birth, because of something that is SAID, not even a certified element of vampire biology. You're stuck with a curse? You're executed, no attempts to heal you.

Their society seems to run on an ideal model of person which depends on factors outside the individual's control, and whoever doesn't fit this description and deviates from the group in any shape or form gets ridiculously fierce punishment. They make the freaking Church look good by comparison, at least their repressive and racist side is composed of extremists instead of everymen.

The Clan Identity (Chloé, and partially Noé again)

Chloé identifies with a group of people too; but it's not a race, it's a family. The D'Apchier family, the nobles who are responsible for Gevaudan. Her father made sure she had this idea in her right from the start, and she interiorized it.

And this had mixed results: while on the one hand she was chained to self-loathing by the guilt of having accidentally caused the massacre of the family and was only saved by Jeanne and Jean-Jacques reclaiming her as part of theirs, on the other she was able to resist to Naenia because of the love and responsibility she felt towards the people of Gevaudan. Chloé is, at this point, the only curse-bearer who managed to trick and attempted to fight directly against Charlatan.

Then there is Noé in relation to his Archiviste identity. He seems to think of it mainly in negative terms, very conscious of the living invasion of privacy it turns him into ... and nothing else. We have never seen him wonder about who his birth parents were, ask himself why he doesn't remember anything, why was the clan exterminated, or how he feels about being a survivor, one of the only ones if not outright the only. He sees his heritage as a burden,and hasn't thought of it in any different term. I wonder how a change in perspective could impact the above 'stable identity'.

The Someone Else's Identity (Vanitas, Dominique)

I already dedicated a whole post to this trait they share, so I'll be short: both Vanitas and Dominique hate themselves and try to become something worthy by taking elements of people they admire: Louis for Dominique, a combination of his birth father and Luna for Vanitas.

The Object Identity (Jeanne)

The very first thing Jeanne was said in her whole life was that she was an object. A vessel for something (or someone?) else, who mustn't have feelings or desires of her own. Encouraging, isn't it?

Luckily, this wasn't all she got in life. Soon afterwards, she was adopted by Eric and Louise, who loved her a lot, received kindness by Ruthven, met Chloé who became an older sister to her. Unluckily, all of this was taken away from her in the most cruel way possible.

She couldn't make any sense of her parents's betrayal and death, and the way her life suddenly changed; she rationalised it by telling herself that it was her fault, if she had been just the good object everyone told her to be nothing would have happened. So she accepts the Object Identity: she is a tool, so she doesn't feel, she exists only to obey orders, and as long as she is nobody else will ever suffer. It gets even worse after she fails to kill Chloè: she couldn't fulfill her duties, and both her and her big sis suffered for it. This mindset traps her in a world of pain, but also prevents her from facing the fact that she is subject to a senseless injustice, one she has no control over.

Vanitas managed to help her with that. He validated her feelings, and showed her that nobody had to die if she had them, solving the situation with Chloé and Jean-Jacques. This gave her a nice confidence boost, returning her to the cheerful attitude she had as a young girl; the consequences of this change remain to be seen.

The Unknown Identity (Luna)

This one is interesting because Luna themselves is pretty explicit about it. They see themselves as something 'other', who is outside commonly used categorization; starting with 'male or female' (and here I am left wondering if they had specific sexual characteristics but didn't feel like they 'fit', or were intersex and nonbinary, or had an entirely different biology from both vampires and humans).

Luna doesn't like this condition: they said they tried to figure out what they were, to understand themselves, and they regret doing so now. Why? Maybe they didn't find any answer and were left perpetually unsatisfied, or they found an answer, and they found it to be awful?

Still, this indicates Luna has never been particularly happy with themselves, and this found no resolution. And then they died. Nice, uh?

Well, I think this was all. There are other characters I would like to know more about in regard to this, like Ruthven, Marquis Machina, and Mikhail, but there is still time.

All in all, I'd say Vanitas no Carte explores the theme of identity pretty throughly; many character arcs are still in progress, and I'm interested about how things will develope especially for Vanitas, Dominique and Jeanne.

Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my ramblings!

#vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vnc meta #vnc analysis #vnc noe #vnc chloé #vnc vanitas #vnc dominique #vnc jeanne #vnc luna #elia's recaps

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soundsfaebutokay · 3 years

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youtube

So I've recc'd this video before, but it deserves its own post because it's one of my favorite things on youtube. It's a Tedx Talk by comics writer, editor, and journalist Jay Edidin, and I really think that it will connect with a lot of people here.

If you live and breathe stories of all kinds, you might like this.

If you care about media representation, you might like this.

If you're neurodivergent, you might like this.

If you're interested in a gender transition story that veers from the norm, you might like this.

If you love the original Leverage and especially Parker, and understand how important it is that a character like her exists, you will definitely like this.

Transcript below the cut:

You Are Here: The Cartography of Stories

by Jay Edidin

I am autistic. And what this means in practice is that there are some things that are easier for me than they are for most people, and a great many things that are somewhat harder, and these affect my life in more or less overt ways. As it goes, I'm pretty lucky. I've been able to build a career around special interests and granular obsession. My main gig at the moment is explaining superhero comics continuity and publishing history for which work I am somehow paid in actual legal currency—which is both a triumph of the frivolous in an era of the frantically pragmatic, and a job that's really singularly suited to my strengths and also to my idiosyncrasies.

I like comics. I like stories in general, because they make sense to me in ways that the rest of the world and my own mind often don't. Self-knowledge is not an intuitive thing for me. What sense of self I have, I've built gradually and laboriously and mostly through long-term pattern recognition. For decades, I didn't even really have a self-image. If you'd asked me to draw myself, I would eventually have given you a pair of glasses and maybe a very messy scribble of hair, and that would've been about it. But what I do know—backwards, forwards, and in pretty much every way that matters—are stories. I know how they work. I understand their language, their complex inner clockwork, and I can use those things to extrapolate a sort of external compass that picks up where my internal one falls short. Stories—their forms, their structure, the sense of order inherent to them—give me the means to navigate what otherwise, at least for me, would be an impassable storm of unparsable data. Or stories are a periscope, angled to access the parts of myself I can't intuitively see. Or stories are a series of mirrors by which I can assemble a composite sketch of an identity I rarely recognize whole...which is how I worked out that I was transgender, in my early thirties, by way of a television show.

This is my story. And it's about narrative cartography, and representation, and why those things matter. It's about autism and it's about gender and it's about how they intersect. And it's about the kinds of people we know how to see, and the kinds of people we don't. It's not the kind of story that gets told a lot, you might hear a lot, because the narrative around gender transition and dysphoria in our culture is really, really prescriptive. It's basically the story of the kid who has known for their whole life that they're this and not that, and that story demands the kind of intuitive self-knowledge that I can't really do, and a kind of relationship to gender that I don't really have—which is part of why it took me so long to figure my own stuff out.

So, to what extent this story, my story has a beginning, it begins early in 2014 when I published an essay titled, "I See Your Value Now: Asperger's and the Art of Allegory." And it explored, among other things, the ways that I use narrative and narrative structures to navigate real life. And it got picked up in a number of fairly prominent places that got linked, and I casually followed the ensuing discussion. And I was surprised to discover that readers were fairly consistently assuming I was a man. Now, that in itself wasn't a new experience for me, even though at the time I was writing under a very unambiguously female byline. It had happened in the letter columns of comics I'd edited. It had happened when a parody Twitter account I'd created went viral. When I was on staff at Wired, I budgeted for fancy scotch by putting a dollar in a box every time a reader responded in a way that made it clear they were assuming I was a man in response to an article where my name was clearly visible, and then I had to stop doing that because it happened so often I couldn't afford to keep it up. But in all of those cases, the context, you know, the reasons were pretty obvious. The fields I'd worked in, the beats I covered, they were places where women had had to fight disproportionally hard for visibility and recognition. We live in a culture that assumes a male default, so given a neutral voice and a character limit, most readers will assume a male author.

But this was different, because this wasn't just a book I'd edited, it wasn't a story I'd reported—it was me, it was my story. And it made me uncomfortable, got under my skin in ways that the other stuff really hadn't. And so I did what I do when that happens, and I tried to sort of reverse-engineer it to look at the conclusions and peel them back to see the narratives behind them and the stories that made them tick. And I started this, I started this by going back to the text of the essay, and you know, examining it every way I could think of: looking at craft, looking at content. And in doing so, I was surprised to realize that while I had written about a number of characters with whom I identified closely, that every single one of those characters I'd written about was male. And that surprised me even more than the responses to the essay had, because I've spent my career writing and talking and thinking about gender and representation in popular media. In 2014, I'd been the feminist gadfly of an editorial department and multiple mastheads. I'd been a founding board member of an organization that existed to advocate for more and better representation of women and girls in comics characters and creators. And most of my favorite characters, the ones I'd actively seek out and follow, were women. Just not, apparently, the characters I saw myself in.

Now I still didn't realize it was me at this point. Remember: self-knowledge, not very intuitive for me. And while I had spent a lot of time thinking about gender, I'd never really bothered to think much about my own. I knew academically that the way other people read and interpreted my gender affected and had influenced a lifetime of social and professional interactions, and that those in turn had informed the person I'd grown up into during that time. But I really believed, like I just sort of had in the back of my head, that if you peeled away all of that social conditioning, you'd basically end up with what I got when I tried to draw a self-portrait. So: a pair of glasses, messy scribble of hair, and in this case, maybe also some very strong opinions about the X-Men. I mean, I knew something was off. I'd always known something was off, that my relationship to gender was messy and uncomfortable, but gender itself struck me as messy and uncomfortable, and it had never been a large enough part of how I defined myself to really feel like something that merited further study, and I had deadlines, and...so it was always on the back burner. So, I looked, I looked at what I had, at this improbable group of exclusively male characters. And I looked and I figured that if this wasn't me, then it had to be a result of the stories I had access to, to choose from, and the entertainment landscape I was looking at. And the funny thing is, I wasn't wrong, exactly. I just wasn't right either.

See, the characters I'd written about had one other significant trait in common aside from their gender, which is that they were all more or less explicitly, more or less heavily coded as autistic. And I thought, "Ah, yes. This explains it. This is under representation in fiction echoing under representation in life and vice versa." Because the characteristics that I'd honed in on, that I particularly identified with in these guys, were things like emotional unavailability and social awkwardness and granular obsession, and all of those are characteristics that are seen as unsympathetic and therefore unmarketable in female characters. Which is also why readers were assuming that I was a man.

Because, you see, here's the thing. I'm not the only one who uses stories to navigate the world. I'm just a little more deliberate about it. For humans, stories formed the bridge between data and understanding. They're where we look when we need to contextualize something new, or to recognize something we're pretty sure we've seen before. They're how we identify ourselves; they're how we locate ourselves and each other in the larger world. There were no fictional women like me; there weren't representations of women like me in media, and so readers were primed not to recognize women like me in real life either.

Now by this point, I had started writing a follow-up essay, and this one was also about autism and narratives, but specifically focused on how they intersected with gender and representation in media. And in context of this essay, I went about looking to see if I could find even one female character who had that cluster of traits I'd been looking for, and I was asking around in autistic communities. And I got a few more or less useful one-off suggestions, and some really, really splendid arguments about semantics and standards, and um...then I got one answer over and over and over in community after community after community. "Leverage," people told me. "You have to watch Leverage."

So I watched Leverage. Leverage is five seasons of ensemble heist drama. It's about a team of very skilled con artists who take down corrupt and powerful plutocrats and the like, and it's a lot of fun, and it's very clever, and it's clever enough that it doesn't really matter that it's pretty formulaic, and I enjoyed it a lot. But what's most important, what Leverage has is Parker.

Parker is a master thief, and she is the best of the best of the best in ways that all of Leverage's characters are the best of the best. And superficially, she looks like the kind of woman you see on TV. So she's young, and she's slender, and she's blonde, and she's attractive but in a sort of approachable way. And all of that familiarity is brilliant misdirection, because the thing is, there are no other women like Parker on TV. Because Parker—even if it's never explicitly stated in the show—Parker is coded incredibly clearly as autistic. Parker is socially awkward. Her speech tends to have limited inflection; what inflection it does have is repetitive and sounds rehearsed a lot of the time. She's not emotionally literate; she struggles with it, and the social skills she develops over the series, she learns by rote, like they're just another grift. When she's not scaling skyscrapers or cartwheeling through laser grids, she wears her body like an ill-fitting suit. Parker moves like me. And Parker, Parker was a revelation—she was a revolution unto herself. In a media landscape where unempathetic women usually exist to either be punished or "loved whole," Parker got to play the crabby savant. And she wasn't emotionally intuitive but it was never ever played as the product of abuse or trauma even though she had survived both of those—it was just part of her, as much as were her hands or her eyes. And she had a genuine character arc. My god, she had a genuine romantic arc, even. And none of that required her to turn into anything other than what she was. And in Parker I recognized a thousand tics and details of my life and my personality...but. I didn't recognize myself.

Why? What difference was there in Parker, you know, between Parker and the other characters I'd written about? Those characters, they'd spanned ethnicities and backgrounds and different media and appearances and the only other characteristic they all had in common was their gender. So that was where I started to look next, and I thought, "Well, okay, maybe, maybe it's masculinity. Maybe if Parker were less feminine, she'd click with me the way those other characters had." So then I tried to imagine a Parker with short hair, who's explicitly butch, and...nothing. So okay, I extended it in what seems like the only logical direction to extend it. I said, "Well, if it's not masculinity, what if it's actual maleness? What if Parker were a man?" Ah. Yeah.

In the end, everything changed, and nothing changed, which is often the way that it goes for me. Add a landmark, no matter how slight, and the map is irrevocably altered. Add a landmark, and paths that were invisible before open wide. Add a landmark, and you may not have moved, but suddenly you know where you are and where you can go.

I wasn't going to tell this story when I started planning this talk. I was gonna tell a similar story, it was about stories, like this is, about narratives and the ways that they influence our culture and vice versa. And it centered around a group of women at NASA who had basically rewritten the narrative around space exploration, and it was a lot more fun, and I still think it was more interesting. But it's also a story you can probably work out for yourselves. In fact it's a story some of you probably have, if you follow that kind of thing, which you probably do given that you're here. And this is a story, my story is not a story that I like to tell. It's not a fun story to talk about because it's very personal and I am a very private person. And it's not universal. And it's not always relatable, and it's definitely not aspirational. And it's not the kind of story that you tend to encounter unless you're already part of it...which is why I'm telling it now. Because the thing is, I'm not the only person who uses stories to parse the world and navigate it. I'm just a little more deliberate. Because I'm tired of having to rely on composite sketches.

Open your maps. Add a landmark. Reroute accordingly.

#Jay Edidin #LGBTQ #autism #mind and body #gender norms #why humans need stories #Leverage #Parker #Abby posts Leverage #my faves #Youtube #I did my best with the transcript #sorry for any mistakes

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doctorbunny · 3 years

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MILGRAM theory time: Haruka!

This isn't going to go super in depth (famous last words) but there's a few heavily debated parts of Haruka's MV I want to share my findings/thoughts on because I think this is my new special interest and during my quest to get best boy's song to 1 million views I have been looking over his first MV with a fine tooth comb so to speak.

Disclaimer: As the Jackalope said in the "This is the MILGRAM" trailer, we don't necessarily know everyone's crime from just the first video, its possible that a lot of things will be re-contextualized in the second MV, however I am not psychic or bilingual and thus will only be working with content released before August 20th 2021 and translated into English (which could cause some language/cultural details to be lost on me as translation is not a 1 to 1 process).

TW for discussions of ableism, child abuse, murder and animal death. Also this is really long so sorry to all the people that follow me for non-MILGRAM stuff

Firstly, I want to start on the topic of Haruka as a person. He is disabled. He does not have 'the mind of a child' (although he is 17, making him legally a minor in both North America and Japan). He is not just 'child-like'. And he is not mentally ill (well he might be, in the sense that many disabilities like Haruka's have strong comorbidities [where a person has two or more conditions but neither directly causes the other] with anxiety, depression and PTSD, but usually when I see people talk about him 'struggling with mental illness' they go on to refer to aspects of his disability). Sometimes on tumblr, people like myself, will see canonical traits written into a character and identify them as being traits associated with our disabilities/mental illness and headcanon them as such. Sometimes this even involves saying things like "It's basically canon!" Although we understand that these characters were probably not the result of a writer intending to write a disabled person. When I say that Haruka is being written as a person with a neurodevelopmental disability, I mean the writer intended to write a disabled character and wrote them in a way that they wanted the audience to pick up on. As an autistic person (which is one of many neurodevelopmental disorders and also something I probably didn't have to specify because who else would be writing an essay about a series they got into a few days ago at 11 o'clock at night) I really like how Haruka has been written so far. There's definitely some parts of him that have been exaggerated so abled normies can pick up on his disability (namely how his MV 's main motif is really child-like drawings) but the writers also included a lot of smaller details I appreciate like how it is noted he avoids eye contact when talking to other people and is depicted as nervously pulling at his sleeves in official artwork, or how he says he finds his prison uniform (which has tight straps) 'relaxing' and when he gets nervous/tense, he will dig his fingernails into the palm of his hands. (These last two potential being examples of 'self stimulation' [aka stimming] where a person seeks out specific sensory stimuli in order to help regulate their nervous system/emotions, in this case the tight uniform creates a comforting, secure feeling [you may have heard about some people preferring to sleep under weighted blankets for this reason] and digging nails into his palms sounds uncomfortable/painful but is done in an attempt to deal with a greater sensory discomfort caused by the situation/environment) I also appreciate the depth he is written with, he struggles to communicate verbally but in his MV and interactions with other inmates is shown to have insecurities, opinions and a consistent thought process (this is all basic character stuff but unfortunately not always present in disabled characters)

Also I want to add that (in terms of what we've been shown so far) Haruka did not kill anyone because of his disability/mental illness. Disabled people are not inherently more innocent than abled people. But there is no disability/mental illness where a symptom is that you kill people and real people have to live with the stigma when you speak carelessly and suggest things like "Haruka is the kind of mentally ill person who kills people as a cry for help" 🧂 (or at the very least real people have to read BS like that and cringe). TL;DR Haruka is less child-like and more onion-like (as in, he has layers) 🧅🧅🧅

Now is the actual theory stuff, oops:

Every prisoner in MILGRAM is supposed to have committed murder in some way, obviously considering Yuno just had an abortion (which i personally do not consider an act of murder) whilst Mu literally stabbed someone to death, this definition is stretched a bit. But it is not agreed upon yet who Haruka killed/how many people he killed or why he killed.

In his MV he is shown to have chased after his dog into a forest, seen something off-screen, then beaten something into a messy pulp with a rock. Some people think the dog is a red herring and that Haruka actually killed his mother/the girl from the fireworks show/his brother. I do not agree.

First: I believe Haruka when he says he doesn't have a brother. The MV literally starts by Haruka looking in the mirror and then switching between the him now

and a really similar looking younger child who just so happened to be a key feature of his memories (I don't have the vocabulary to explain it but its like cinematic parallels that establish this is the same person at different points of their life)

Its not impossible that this is Haruka's secret younger brother, but i think its unlikely. I saw someone saying they had to be different people because Haruka looks less happy than the child but like, most 17 year olds are less visibly happy than when they were 7 (or however old the child is meant to be). Life happens.

So when Haruka is shown pushing the child around and eventually strangling him, this isn't meant to be literal (homicide or suicide), but a representation of how conflicted Haruka feels about his younger self, who may have committed the murder (if you've ever been kept awake cringing at memories of something you said in the past and wishing you could go slap some sense into your former self, this is like that but 10 times more self loathing). The lyric "I am always repeating yesterday," implies he might think about this specific past event a lot.

Moving on, its pretty well accepted that Haruka's parents were abusive in some way and Haruka internalised a lot of it: he constantly apologises, he says in his interrogation questions that his one wish come true is that "[he] want[s] to be loved" and describes in his MV how when he couldn't find the words he was looking for ("you're unfair") one of his parents "would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”". He seems to know its unfair but also still says he 'loves' his family, possibly mistakenly believing it is his fault, but also showing an awareness of his situation (and how his parents might behave).

Now, the MV is stylised in a way that makes certain details unclear, but there is one clear detail showing that Haruka's dog was killed

This is the first close up of Haruka and the dog. Haruka's mother is just out of frame supervising, but they look pretty happy. Notice how the puppy has a silvery chain for a collar. Somehow, this dog gets out of the house but only Haruka is shown chasing after it (whether his mother was searching elsewhere or didn't bother following her disabled son into the forest is unclear). Either way, young Haruka is now in the forest, unsupervised.

By the time he finds the dog, there is already blood, suggesting it was initally attacked by something else.

is this a sigh of relief from a boy whose finally found his beloved pet or a jealous weakling glad that nature took its course and he is finally free of that meddling mutt stealing all his mummy's attention? /j

I think this shock at the discovery that 'there is blood on his hands' could imply that rather than literally getting the blood from his dog, Haruka has seen his already injured dog and realises that if the dog got out because of him (he is previously shown to be aware his parents seem to blame him for everything) then he is the reason his dog is injured/dying and will be blamed for it. (this scene plays over the lyrics "It’s fine, though it’s really not It’s really fine, though I don’t really think so When I tried to understand it, You’ll make that disappointed face again" suggesting he is trying to avoid making his parents disappointed and letting the family pet escape into danger is something that could make them very disappointed)

now we get into rock murder (this is present-day Haruka implying that this is either: not how the scene really played out; the writers really wanting the audience to know that this was Haruka's doing and not someone else's; or this turns into a separate incident that happened much later [although note that the red sky and blue moon is the same as when young Haruka first appears at the start])

b the corpse is beyond mangled now, but its clearly the dog because the silver chain collar is still there, to the right of the body. (circled in red for your convenience :3)

My hypothesis is: Haruka didn't set out to kill his dog, but upon finding it injured (we don't know the severity aside from bleeding and also it not being able to run away from Haruka kneeling down above it w/ a big rock so it could range from treatable with a lot of vet help to already on death's door, TBH I don't think Haruka would know the difference) He knew he'd be blamed for this; made into a villain who let the poor puppy come to harm. He panicked and killed the dog out of some idea that it would make him the victim here (since he'd be found crying over a dog corpse, which might make a parent go comfort him rather than getting angry about what could've happened to the dog). This is over the lyrics: "I cried, I screamed I wanted to be a pitied and loved weakling I was in denial, I was in denial I just had to make sure I’ve become a victim, I’ve become a victim" (there's another theory that he was also jealous of the dog, which could work here too, since this is not some calculated plot; rather its a rash decision) This ties in with his Japanese song title (translated as Weakness) which is a play on a phrase sort of like "The strong eat, the weak do not" to become "The weak are eaten by society" or "The weak eat each other to survive" [once again I am reminding everyone this is based on second hand information from the youtube comments section (from users mitchki and Alphaistic) because I do not speak Japanese] This second meaning (The weak eat each other to survive) makes sense under the reading that Haruka killed his dog in order to 'survive' making his parents disappointed for the dog escaping.

Miscellaneous points:

We don't know where Haruka's necklace came from yet, it must be a gift since the most expensive thing he's ever bought was cotton candy. The younger child in the video isn't wearing it and neither is his mother or the girl in the purple dress.

Haruka's home seems quite big, at the start we can see a large flower garden outside the window and there's a forest in walking distance. This might suggest his family is quite wealthy

Haruka probably did go to school at some point as homeschooling is not a legally accepted as an alternative to public schools in Japan. (However it is estimated that up to 5000 families homeschool, this is uncommon) A lot (about 62%) of Japanese schools apparently have a 'special needs' classes and there are about 505 schools focused on educating intellectually disabled students (although I do not know which sort Haruka would've needed as whilst intellectual and development disabilities can be comorbid they aren't the same). Now, if children aged 7-14 don't go to school, their parents receive a fine, but its possible that if Haruka's parents are wealthy, they just paid it to avoid sending him to school. (This might imply they wanted to hide him or were generally ashamed of him in some way) However high school education (for students over 14) is not legally required and its likely that even if Haruka went to elementary/middle school, he hasn't been around people his own age in at least 3 years. As he seems quite lonely and glad that the other prisoners give him attention.

I don't think Haruka's parents are divorced and if they are, its not his father who left. Haruka mentions in the 30 questions that he thinks he disappointed his father. But still includes him as part of his family ("My father and mother and me"). A theory I've seen is that his father was disappointed by his son being disabled and left. but developmental disabilities (especially in non verbal and semi verbal children like Haruka) can be diagnosed before the age of 3, so I feel it is unlikely that Haruka would bring up his father if he left that early in Haruka's life

All MILGRAM prisoners have covered one of DECO*27's older vocaloid songs (DECO*27 is a well known producer who composes the music for MILGRAM) Haruka covered 'Two Breaths Walking' (https://youtu.be/puXLfVWrz2Q) which is about a boy's first relationship and how his mother's jealousy set him up for failure as the relationship becomes toxic (specifically it has some very funny out of context lines like "Whose breasts are you sucking on now?") so yeah, mommy issues: the song (Also: some people say in the song, the boy kills the girl at the end, but this isn't literal, TBW is the first of a trilogy of songs about the same relationship, it is followed by Android girl then Two Breaths Walking: Reloaded and the story resolves with the couple reuniting as adults and getting in the relationship again, although its not necessarily as abusive as before, its still implied to be codependant ending on the line 'We should live like oxygen tanks, sucking breathe from the words each of us exhale, until our last breathe')

In all seriousness, the scene where younger Haruka is walking through the city with his mother but it keeps repeating until older Haruka pulls the younger one away might indicate an attempt to focus the happier memories of his parents (since this is also over the lyrics "Why is it breaking? Tell me why? Please don’t change If I tried and couldn’t say it, You would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”" which depict a worse scene) I think both his parents are still physically present but have become far more emotionally distant, not giving him as much attention, which exacerbates his loneliness from not having any friends his own age to talk to

And if one of his parents did leave? I think its likely his mother since she is shown disappearing out of his reach after the dog-incident (inferring she got angry/disappointed in Haruka anyway) This could also be where he got his necklace from: Its something his mother used to wear (although this is 100% a guess) and that's why its shown to be important to him

This one is just me, but i didn't realise until a rewatch that when Haruka is watching the younger him and the girl running together, the background has fireworks. Haruka mentions fireworks being a key memory to him so I wonder if this was one of the first/last times he got to make a friend...

On three separate occasions in the interrogation, Haruka mentions not liking animals. Despite this, he is depicted as sleeping with a rabbit plush and on his birthday art (I'd include that too but tumblr only allows 10 pictures per post, so here's a link) he is standing next to a giant blueberry and strawberry cake with two bunny themed biscuits at the side. Through my experiences of seeing Japanese fandom art on pixiv, sometimes rabbits are used to insinuate a character is cute and timid in fanart.

Meaningless details: Haruka sleeps with his necklace on; he sleeps on a bed and not a futon; at first I thought he woke up holding his plush's hand but his hand is merely next to the toy; and considering the state of the pillow and blanket, I wonder if he moves a lot in his sleep or if the is just because in this case he seems to be waking up from a nightmare about the dog incident...

Final note: I've spent so many hours writing this I don't remember if i was building up to any big finale or not but I hope you enjoyed reading this! Feel free to add on in the comments/reblogs.

#haruka sakurai #milgram #milgram theory #001 #text post #essay #long post

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