#whats that thing called when two queer kids are super close and its almost a relationship

[zer0expektation]

whenever I'm moderately sad I go through my and my ex-bsf's texts and make it Worse for myself.

#whats that thing called when two queer kids are super close and its almost a relationship #and then it ends and it somehow hurts more than any break up #seeing the lengths of time between texts slowly increasing #and slowly youre the only one saying anything #and then nothing #i hate everything #friend breakup #best friend breakup #kms #lgbt #queer #queer friendship #this feels so fucking stereotypical #dont say ANYTHING about it #i WILL cry

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

[lee-scribbles-and-doodles]

My Top Ten Overlooked Movies With Female Leads In No Particular Order

Note: When you see this emoji (⚠️) I will be talking about things people may find triggering, which are spoilery more often then not. I mention things that I think may count as triggers so that people with them will be aware before going in to watch any of these.

Edited: 3/16/21

Hanna (2011)

So, before I get into why you should watch this movie, I just want to take a moment to say why it's near and dear to my heart. Growing up as a queer kid in the early 2000s, seeing portrayals of people like or similar to myself on anything was rare at best. It was mostly in more "adult" movies or shows that my parents would occasionally let me watch with them that I'd see any lgbtq+ rep at all. Often times they were either walking stereotypes, designed to be buried, evil, or all three.

Then here comes this PG-13 action thriller with a wonderfully written main female lead who, at the time, was close to my age, and who got to kiss another girl (her very first friend, Sophie) on screen in an extremely tender and heartwarming scene. To say the least, it was a life changing moment for me personally.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, Hanna is a suspenseful movie about a child super-soldier named, you guessed it, Hanna (played by Saoirse Ronan) and her adoptive (?) father Erik Heller (played by Eric Bana) exiting the snowy and isolated wilderness of their home and taking on the shadowy CIA operative, Marissa Wiegler (played by Cate Blanchette) who wants Erik dead and Hanna for herself for mysterious reasons.

It also has an amazing soundtrack by the Chemical Brothers, great action scenes, and it has an over arching fairytale motif, which I'm always a sucker for.

⚠️ Mild blood effects, some painful looking strikes, various character deaths, and child endangerment all feature in this film. However, given its PG-13 rating, a majority of viewers are presumably able to handle this one. Still, be aware of these going in.

Sidenote: It's recently gotten a TV adaptation on Amazon TV, although I have not watched it, and do not know if Hanna and Sophie's romantic/semi-romantic relationship has transferred over.

A Simple Favor

A Simple Favor is a "black-comedy mystery thriller" centered entirely around the relationship between two mothers, the reclusive, rich, mysterious, and regal Emily (played by Blake Lively), and the local recently widowed but plucky mommy blogger, Stephanie (played by Anna Kendrick). When Emily suddenly goes missing, Stephanie takes it upon herself to find out what happened to her new best friend.

It's a fantastic and entertaining movie throughout, with fun, flawed and interesting characters. The relationship between the two female leads is also implied to be at least somewhat romantic in nature, and they even share a kiss.

⚠️ The only major warnings I can think of is that the movie contains an instance of incest and one of the main plotlines revolves around child abuse, although both of these potentially triggering topics are not connected to each other, so there is thankfully no csa going on.

Edit: I legitimately forgot there was drug use in this movie until now. So, yeah, if that's a trigger, be careful of that.

I Am Mother

I became mildly obsessed with this movie when it came out. I Am Mother is a sci-fi film that centers entirely around a cast of two woman, and a female-adjacent robot who is brought to life on screen with absolutely amazing practical effects.

The plot is such, after an extinction-level event, a lone robot known only as Mother tasks herself with replenishing the human race via artifical means. She begins with the film's main protagonist, Daughter. Years go by as Mother raises her human child and the two prepare for Daughter's first sibling (a brother) to be born. However, on Daughter's 16th birthday, the arrival of an outsider known only as Woman shakes Daughter's entire world view. She begins to question Mother's very nature, as well as what's really going on outside the bunker she and her caretaker call home.

⚠️ This movie features child endangerment and reference to child death.

Lilo and Stitch

When I decided to add a single Disney film to this list I initially thought it was going to be hard but almost immediately my brain went to Lilo and Stitch, and specifically about the relationship between Lilo and Nani.

On the surface, this film is about a lonely little girl accidentally adopting a fugitive alien creature as a "dog," but underneath that the story is also about two orphaned sisters and the older sister's attempts to not let social services tear them apart by stepping up as the younger sister's primary guardian. Despite its seemingly goofy premise, Lilo and Stitch has a very emotional and thoughtful center. It's little wonder how this movie managed to spawn an entire franchise.

Despite the franchise it spawned (or possibly because of it), I often find that Lilo and Stitch is overlooked and many people only remember it for the "little girl adopts an alien as a pet" portion of its plot, and I very rarely see it on people's top 10 Disney lists.

⚠️ This movie could be potentially triggering to people who were separated from their siblings or other family members due to social service intervention. There's also a bit of child endangerment, including a scene where Lilo and Stitch both almost drown.

Nausicaä and the Valley of the Wind

Unlike the above entry, I did struggle a little bit with picking a single Studio Ghibli film. Most media of the Ghibli catalogue have strong, well-written, unique, and interesting female leads so selecting just one seemed like quite the task.

However, I eventually settled on this particular film. In recent months, Princess Nausicaä has become my absolute favorite Ghibli protagonist and I'm absolutely enchanted by the world she lives in.

Set in a post-apocalyptic world overun by giant insects and under threat of a toxic forest and its poisoness spores, Nausicaä must try to protect the Valley of the Wind from invaders as she also tries to understand the science behind the toxic forest and attempts to bridge the gap between the insects and the humans.

For those who have never seen the film, I think Nausicaä's personality can best be described as being similar to OT Luke Skywalker. Both are caring, compassionate, and gentle souls who are able to see the best in nearly anyone or anything. She's an absolutely enthralling protagonist and after rewatching the film again for the first time in well over a decade she has easily become one of my all time favorite protagonists.

Whenever I see people talk about Ghibli films, they rarely mention this one, and when they do mention it, it's often in passing. In my opinion it's a must watch.

⚠️ This movie contains some blood, and the folks who either don't like insects or who have entomophobia may not appreciate the giant bugs running about throughout the movie. (Although most insects do not directly relate to real life bugs, and are fantasy creatures).

A Silent Voice

A Silent Voice is an animated movie adaptation of a manga of the same name. While I've never had the pleasure to read the manga, the movie is phenomenal. It covers topics such a bullying, living in the world with a disability, the desire for atonement, social anxiety, and depression in a well thought out manner that ties itself together through the progression of the relationship between its two leads, Shoya and Shouko. It's also beautifully animated. Although very popular among anime viewers, I've noticed that it's often overlooked by people who watch little to no anime. So I suppose this is me urging non-anime viewers to give this film a chance.

⚠️ As mentioned above, the movie deals with bullying, anxiety, and depression (with this last one including suicidal thoughts and behaviour). If discussion of those topics are triggering to you, than you may want to proceed with caution or skip this movie all together.

In This Corner of The World

Another manga adaptation, this one taking place during WWII-era Japan. In This Corner of The World follows the life of a civilian Japanese woman, Suzu Urano, as she navigates simply living and her new marriage as the wartime invades nearly all aspects of everyday life. I think this movie is a good representation of what it must be like to be living as civilian in a country at war where the fight is sometimes fought on one's own soil. It was also an interesting look into pre-50s Japanese culture in my opinion. It's also beautifully animated featuring an art style I don't see often.

Despite it being well known among anime fans, I never really see it be brought up, even among said anime fans themselves.

Side note: I've seen many WWII dramas centering around civilians but they've almost always been about American or UK civilians. This was the first movie I'd seen that features the perspective of a Japanese civilain.

⚠️ Features the death of a child and limb loss. There's also a disturbing scene featuring a victim of one of the atomic bombs near the end.

Wolf Children: Ame and Yuki

This film follows Hana, a Japan-native woman who fell in love with a magical shape-shifting wolf-man, and her trials with raising their children, who can also magically shape-shift into wolves, on her own. It's a very heartfelt movie about a mother's love and the struggles of doing right by your children when you have limited resources to actively guide and care for them. All the characters feel unique and alive in my opinion. Also, the animation is so good that my sister and I initially mistook it for a Ghibli film.

Again, like the previous two anime entries, I don't see it ever brought up outside of anime circles.

⚠️ There's some child endangerment present in the film, although none of it is the fault of Hana as far as I can remember.

Roman Holiday

Roman Holiday is about the fictional Princess Ann (played by Audrey Hepburn), who while on a whirlwind tour of Europe, finally reaches her breaking point over having her entire life be one big schedule and all her words and actions being rehearsed. In the spur of the moment, she runs away in hopes of experiencing what life is like for other women. Unfortunately, she was previously given a sedative, meaning she doesn't get too far before it takes effect. Fortunately, she is found by the kind reporter Joe Bradley (played by Gregory Peck). Believing her to be drunk and unable to get an address from her (because she has none) he ends up taking her home for safety's sake and allows her to sleep off her suppose drunken stupor. The next day, he realizes who she is, and decides to take her on a fun sight seeing trip across Rome in hopes of getting the big scoop. Along the way, they begin to fall for each other.

This is my favorite black and white, old romance film. I think the relationship between the main characters is absolutely beautiful and I have a lot of fun watching it.

⚠️ I'm not entirely sure what kind of warning this film would need. However, it was released in 1953, so values dissonance will probably be at play for many viewers to at least some extent. For example, early in the film Ann is given sedation drugs by her doctor for her behavior, something that is very unlikely to happen today. Also, Mr Bradley deciding to take Ann home to keep her safe rather than call the police or an ambulance is a very pre-90s decision in my opinion.

#hanna 2011 #a simple favor #i am mother #lilo and stitch #nausicaä of the valley of the wind #a silent voice #in this corner of the world #wolf chilren ame and yuki #wolf children #roman holiday #black and white film #anime #disney #studio ghibli #movie recs #top 10

[winterscaptain]

how do our favourite ajf couples handle The Talk? and also, how do they start talking about lgbtq+ things? we love communication and education in this house ✨ - 💙

alRIGHT we are going OFF under the cut about good parenting (and also aaron’s the best dad on the planet change my mind)

this is litcherally almost 1.5k words because not only are we inclusive and educational in this house, we are comprehensive and honest with our kids!

they start with consent and boundaries really early. its always “can you ask you sister if its okay to use her tablet” or “honey you're standing a little close to me and i need some space right now. can you step back?” or “i don't really want to do that right now, can we do something else?”

its easier to understand boundaries with the addition of isaac in their home environment. he needs and has very clear boundaries for his siblings and his parents, so its very clear cut from the get-go what is and isn’t okay without permission. mom and aaron are good about knocking on doors and waiting for their kids to invite them into their space, and they’re awesome about privacy and open conversations.

auntie emily has a girlfriend or two and spencer has a boyfriend, a non-binary partner, and a girlfriend over the course of the kids’ lives, which is a really neat segue into the lgbtq+ conversation. very simple - 

“when you’re older, you might start feeling things for people, or you might not. there are different words for people who are attracted to different people, and those are called sexualities. for example, your aunt emily is a lesbian because she likes girls, and your uncle spencer has dated people of different genders, so he’s called bisexual.  

“there are also different words for people who don’t really fit in to the ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ category. some people are a lot of one or the other, some people are a little bit of both, and others aren’t any at all. 

“it’s really important to use these words respectfully, and only use them for someone if you have heard someone use them for themselves. this is a really private thing for most people, so we have to be respectful of people’s boundaries when we talk about the feelings we have for other people.

“if you ever want to talk to mom or me about feelings you’re having, we will be here for you to love you and accept you no matter what.”

(these kids are either gen z or whatever the fuck comes after them, so they’ll probably all be a little queer in one way or another, or at least explored a bit, lets be real)

they are very age-appropriate, as well. so there’s a conversation about how our bodies change when the kids are about nine or ten, and they have a lot of books for the kids to read in private, so they’re not so put on the spot. 

mom and aaron do their best to tag team, but there are some things that are better to hear from your dad than your mom and vice versa. 

this is also around the time the kids get the conversation about what is and isn't appropriate touching, peer pressure, and social norms (”sometimes, people will say that they’ve done something that you hadn’t thought of before or aren’t ready to do, and it might feel like everyone else has done it, too. however, you are you and you are not them. you are the only person who gets to tell you what to do, and never feel like you have to do anything for any reason.”)

jack, of course, is first, and is having these first conversations with aaron right around the time isaac is born.

when he gets further into middle school, he and aaron go for a walk and talk more specifically about consent and new feelings that might come up. idk about yall, but i knew way more than i should have in middle school and the internet has only gotten worse since then, so i’m sure jack has a vague idea of the mechanics. jack and mom also talk about values, like respect and compassion and empathy, and how those values link together with those feelings. 

when they're older (late middle school, early high school), they get the conversation about stds and safety and risks and that stuff. (that’s another easy conversation with real-life examples because isaac, while very wanted, was somewhat unexpected, and so was their cousin henry.) everyone is really clear about all the ways to engage in these activities that won’t get anyone hurt, pregnant, infected, or all of the above. (all of course, with the understanding that “this is for your knowledge, not for you to just know how to go off and sow your wild oats. you’ll have plenty of time for that later, i promise.”)

the segue for isaac’s first on-topic talk comes due to a question about how jack has a different mom than the rest of them. there was a comment at school that made isaac feel a little weird (”well jack’s not your real brother. he doesn't count because he's your half-brother” - that kind of thing) so he asked mom and dad about it. he already knew that jack has a different mom, but he doesn't really know what that means. 

aaron’s like “well, jack is made of different stuff because he didn’t come out of mom.”

“what kind of different stuff?”

(and of course mom thinks its hilarious and later says “you walked right into that one, honey.”)

so because isaac is isaac and loves to learn, aaron goes and grabs one of the books he got for jack, and he and mom walk through all the “stuff” that makes up a person and how it gets there. they’re a little more detailed with him than the other kids, because he really likes to know the science and mechanics of it (”dad, people are kind of like machines!” “yeah, bud, a little bit!”)

hes fascinated, of course, and he’s the easiest of the five. he also does really well with more abstract ideas of consent and boundaries as well. 

when it’s the girls’ turn, they not only get the mechanics conversation (for both sex and owning a uterus) but the safety conversation. because consent was so drilled into all of them, the boys are like “aight got it, don’t be an asshole and always ask about everything all the time. cool.” but the girls are dealing with some different stuff on multiple fronts. 

mom tells them about periods before they get them, so they’re not thinking they’re dying when their first period arrives. they actually help their friends a lot when they freak out, which is super sweet. 

aaron reiterates this one to every kid, every time: 

“there will be times where people, usually men, do not listen to you and do not respect your boundaries. i am giving you my permission to do whatever you have to do to get out of that situation. you can lie to that person, you can trick that person, and you can hurt that person if that’s the only way to get out of that situation. you can always call us and it doesn’t matter what time it is. we will never ever be mad at you. we love you unconditionally and we just want you to be safe.” 

“sex, for some people, is about fun and getting some exercise in, or just another way to spend time with people. that’s okay, but just make sure you’re taking care of yourself and being safe. for other people, its a physical way to express your love to someone you really care about.” 

(“oh, so that’s why there’s so many of us.” “soph don’t be rude.” “it’s true isnt it?”)

so its less of like The Talk and more of Yeah, We Can Talk About This Anytime, because mom and aaron do their best to normalize talking about this stuff so the kids won’t be embarrassed to come to them with stuff in the future. 

jack usually goes to mom with more...specific questions. caro ends up going to dad more often than not, and soph and elliot split the parents pretty evenly. isaac usually goes to mom, too. 

aaron’s favorite Jack Asks About Sex moment (relayed to him that night, in bed with mom) is as follows:

mom and jack are out on a walk, and jack’s like, 15ish. he just looks at her and is like “mom. hey, uh. what’s a blowjob?”

she tries not to laugh and succeeds, for the most part. in the spirit of honesty, and with the understanding of “you aren’t to do this until you are comfortable and ready and nobody else can tell you when that is,” she kind of loosely outlines oral sex and how to conduct it safely and responsibly. 

“is it like...good? fun? like ugh, god, how do i put this...do you and dad...do people...nevermind.”

with a laugh - “jack. you really don’t want me to answer that. i will scar you for life if you push.” 

“ugh. yikes. alright.” 

aaron thought it was HYSTERICAL. 

at the end of the day, they just want their kids to feel safe and loved. all five of them know that they were built and made with love, and know (within reason) that their parents love and enjoy each other. 

whew. thanks for coming to my ted talk, and you can thank my parents for some of these gems lmao

#💙 anon #ajf aaron #ajf jack #ajf isaac #ajf caro #ajf soph #ajf elliot #a joyful future #tali talks cm #anon reply #tali answers stuff

[cadence-talle]

Rain Against A Window (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Eventual Biana Vacker/Sophie Foster

Wordcount: 1,955

Summary: In which Juline Dizznee finds a child, our scam team gets closer to Paris, and the city of Petersburg lights up. 

Other notes: This chapter was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess

Read it on ao3 or under the cut! 

St Petersburg, Russia. October 13, 1917. 

Juline stumbles out of the collapsing stables, letting go of the horse she’s holding. It gallops off through the streets and she groans; it’s never going to come back.

Not that it matters, really. No one’s going to have any need for horses now. 

She’s not sure how long it’s been since the first gunshots were fired. Six or seven hours, probably. Juline is just lucky she wasn’t caught in the crossfire and had enough time to get all the horses out. 

A small wail echoes across the crumbling land, and Juline’s head snaps up. She knows that sound; she’s been listening to a kid cry for going on five years now. 

Sure enough, there’s a girl sitting in the rubble, knees curled up to her chest and cheeks wet with tears. She looks about four or five; just a bit younger than Dex, if Juline is right. Her heart twists and she holds out a hand to the child. 

“Hey,” Juline says softly. “What happened to you?”

“I- I don’t know,” the girl says, teal eyes filling with tears again. Juline looks her over and something heavy drops in her gut- this is most definitely Princess Bianca. “I hit my head, and I feel sick, but I don’t know why.” She looks up at Juline. “Why?”

“There was an accident,” Juline says, taking the girl’s tiny hand in hers. “You must have gotten hurt.”

“Oh. Are you my mom?”

Juline blinks. Then blinks again. She’s almost positive that Queen Della is dead; there’s no one still alive to take care of this girl. 

Exhaling, she makes a decision. 

“No, sweetie. But I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” the girl says. “That sounds good.”

And so the Dizznees gain another child- Biana, she’s called. Juline worries sometimes that it’s too close to Bianca, but it was a name Bi herself chose and Juline isn’t cruel enough to take it away. 

Besides, who would look for the last remaining member of the Vacker family in the poorest parts of St Petersburg? These streets are cesspits, filled with violence and alcohol and…

Sickness. 

Juline isn’t dying, not yet. But she will be. She’s seen what this sickness can do, watched her own husband waste to nothing in front of her. And it’s only a matter of time- there’s no way they can afford the medicine. 

Still, as she sits in her bed and forces herself to open her eyes again, she’s comforted. Because Biana is still out there, still free, still alive. 

And no one can ever know. 

-/-

St Petersburg, Russia. February 27, 1927. 

“And then he just… let me go.” Fitz finishes. “I don’t know why. I was sure I was going to get arrested or something.”

“Huh.” Biana frowns, tapping the arm of her chair. “That’s weird. They’ve been cracking down on a lot of scam teams lately- throwing them in jail or worse. I’m glad you got out, but that’s weird.”

“What should we do?”

Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. Hiding somewhere else would be useless. We’re almost ready to leave. All Dex needs to do is forge our train passes and we’re good.” She turns behind her, to where Dex is furiously scribbling on a yellowed sheet of paper. “Speaking of which, are you heading down to the printer’s today?”

“Yeah.” Dex says, not looking up. Biana raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay then. I’m gonna go to the market, see if there’s any food on sale. Fitz, why don’t you go with Dex?”

“Me? Why would I-” Fitz starts. He’s not sure why he’s so opposed to that idea; Dex hasn’t been so much as rude to him since that very first day. Still, there’s something clenching his gut that makes him want to run. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone. Not after yesterday.”

“Right,” Fitz nods. “Of course.”

Dex stands up, folding the letter he was writing into an envelope and putting a stamp in the corner. “Okay, let’s go. I want to mail this on the way there.”

“Have fun!” Biana calls as they step into the late-morning light. 

-/-

Dear Mom, 

How are you? How are the triplets? I hope it’s not too cold out there; I know Rex was trying to learn how to knit, but knowing him, that won’t go well.

Things are all right over here. Bi and I have food, and we think we found a way to make a lot of money. Maybe even enough to finally get you out of debt so we can all live together again. 

Petersburg is… tense, right now. Like everything is holding its breath in anticipation. There’s a rumor that Prince Fitzroy and Princess Bianca survived, so all the officers have been on high alert. We’re okay, though.

And we made a friend! He’s nice- kind of confused, but nice. And he’s super pretty 

(Please pretend I didn’t write that.)

I miss you. The city’s not the same without you here to fill up every small hideaway we get with laughter and music. Bi and I are trying, though. We’ll get through this.

See you soon. 

Love, Dex. 

-/-

“Okay,” Dex says as they exit the printer’s, a stack of paper clutched in one hand. The sky is beginning to darken, rays of pink and orange spreading across like paint on a canvas. Fitz is surprised it took so long; he’d always thought of printing as something fast and easy, but there are all these parts. And the travel passes aren’t even done- Dex still needs to forge the signatures on them. “We should get back. Biana will be-”

He trails off, looking at something over Fitz’s shoulder. Fitz spins around to see three uniformed men moving down the street toward them. He swallows and starts to back away. 

“Hey! You!” One of the men calls. “It’s almost curfew! What are you doing out?”

“Uh.” Fitz says. Dex grabs his arm and pulls him into the alley to the side of the building, hurrying them both up a fire escape. 

“Go, go, go,” he says through gritted teeth once they’re on the roof, running along the shingles with a grace Fitz is positive he can’t replicate. “What are you waiting for? Come on!”

They leap between houses and swing around water towers as the sun sets, lights in windows popping up like stars. Finally, Dex comes to a stop on top of a building on a particularly large hill. 

“I think we lost them,” he says, looking back at Fitz. “What?”

“I’ve never seen it this high up before,” Fitz whispers. From where they stand, the whole city’s spread out underneath them like a glittering map. Each lamp in each home is a shining jewel, calling to him. “It’s beautiful.”

Dex snorts, sitting near the edge of the roof and staring at the lights below. “Trust me, it’s a lot less pretty when you grow up down there.”

“I didn’t say pretty. I said beautiful.”

“Okay, your majesty, what’s the difference, then?”

“Pretty is surface level. It’s looking at someone and thinking ‘oh, they’re attractive.’ Beautiful is… more than that. It’s watching someone live and listening to them talk and seeing all their faults but still loving them. If something’s beautiful, that doesn’t mean it’s perfect- it’s just messed up in a beautiful way.”

“Oh.” Dex is quiet for a moment, the two looking at the city lights. Fitz feels an overwhelming urge to take back his words. 

“I don’t actually know the city very well,” he says. “I’ve lived here for a few years, but it’s mostly just… work, sleep, repeat. Nothing like-” he waves a hand at the scene in front of them- “nothing like this.”

Dex sighs, leaning back on his hands. “Petersburg is this odd mix of amazing and dangerous, and most things here walk that line very closely. So when you grow up on the streets…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s hard to make an honest living. And much, much easier to get drawn into things that aren’t exactly sanitary.” 

“That’s why you’re so good at forging stuff,” Fitz responds. “Right? And why Biana is so persuasive. You guys do this a lot.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Dex sighs. “Our mom never wanted us to be scammers. She used to work in the palace stables, but when the tsar was killed…” he mimes an explosion. “That whole line of business kind of blew up. She and Dad did their best, and we managed to stay afloat for a while, but-” he bites his lip. “When Dad died, Bi and I knew we had to do something. We had more siblings by that point- the triplets, they’re thirteen now. And Mom’s few jobs weren’t enough to keep us fed.”

“So you turned to stealing.”

Dex shrugs, kicking his heel against the brick of the building. “Stealing, scamming, anything that could get us food or money. We ran into trouble a few times, but we managed to slip away. The streets of Petersburg aren’t too bad if you have someone by your side.”

“Oh,” Fitz says. The words I’m sorry seem too small for this, too small for someone who’s been through so much hurt. “I guess I can see why you don’t think the city is beautiful, then.”

“No, actually, I think it is.” Dex turns to face Fitz, eyes fixed on the roof beneath them. “You said that beautiful doesn’t mean perfect, and Petersburg isn’t perfect- it’s dirty and messy and terrifying. But I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’m willing to take the bad for the good that I’ve gotten. The city gave me Biana, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” 

He looks up, straight into Fitz’s eyes. “And that’s love, isn’t it? Seeing all the cracks and loving it anyway. Understanding it anyway.”

Something about the way he’s talking makes it clear that he doesn’t just mean Petersburg. But Fitz doesn’t have time to think about that right now. 

“Yeah. That’s love.”

More lights appear in windows below them, glittering into existence. It’s a sign of life, of the people who hide in the shadows and laugh with their families. A sign of home. 

Unconsciously, Fitz pulls the music box out of his coat pocket. 

“What’s that?” Dex asks. Fitz hands it to him, and Dex wrinkles his nose. “Is this a Vacker relic? Where did you-” he fiddles with something inside, some piece of machinery, and music starts to play. “Whoa.”

Tinkling music drifts over the rooftop, a memory tugging in the back of Fitz’s mind; he should know this. He should know this. 

He does know this. 

Slowly, quietly, he starts to hum along as a scene takes shape in his mind. 

A smiling red-haired woman leaning over him, a tiny girl by his side. The very same music box in his lap, emitting a soft tune that Fitz knows by heart. 

“Once upon a December,” he sings quietly as the song ends. Dex gapes at him wordlessly, closing the music box with a silent click. 

“Fitz, what-”

Fitz meets his eyes. “We need to get to Paris.” 

-/-

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry the letter’s short today- I don’t have much time to write. 

We’re leaving the city soon, heading away. I won’t say where, for your safety and ours, but rest assured we’ll be as safe as possible. 

If all goes well, I’ll be home soon. We’ll all be together. 

I love you. 

Dex. 

P.S. I said, in my last letter, that my friend was pretty. That’s not true- or, it is, but he’s more than that. He’s beautiful.

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #kotlc fanfiction #dex dizznee #fitz vacker #biana vacker #detz #fedex

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Falling Ch. 1

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin​

Pairing: Bucky X Reader [and a few more to come]

Summary: For a moment you had something good, something wonderful. But moments pass. Now, left with nothing but the ashes of a life and a love you fought so hard for you find yourself in a free fall. Who will you be once you hit the bottom? [Sequel to Only For A Moment but can be read independently.]

Warnings: Smut, loss, violence

A/N: Woo, I started Only For A Moment in late 2018 and had no idea what I was signing up for. I fell in love with this reader character as much as Bucky Barnes and then, of course, fell in love with them. Which... I won’t lie, made this hard to write. 

For old readers, I hope you like the second half of this journey. For new readers, welcome, it’s gonna be a trip.

TAGS ARE OPEN

Rolling over to feel your familiar warmth is exactly how Bucky wants to start his day, every day.

For a few precious moments, he breathes in your scent - cocoa butter and cinnamon - almost able to taste you on his tongue. He wraps his arm gently around you, pulling your prone form closer, feeling the soft skin of your abdomen, the steady rise and fall of your breath. 

The muffled sounds of morning seep through the curtain, the goats grazing, the sound of the lake lapping at its shores.

These little details sink in, permeate every sense, and reassure him that this is no dream. You’re here, his wife, his love, his whole heart, his everything, in his embrace. 

You are here, and you are in love with him. 

Bucky will spend the rest of his life trying to figure out how he, of all people, got so goddamn lucky. 

He presses his lips between your shoulder blades, taking another deep breath as though he could breathe you into his lungs and hold you there forever. 

“Good morning, doll,” he hums into your ear.

“Mmm,” you sigh. Just that small sound sends desire humming up his spine. He drags his lips down your neck, nibbling playfully at the curve of your shoulder. 

“Bucky,” you say, voice still thick with sleep. 

“Hmm?” He runs his fingers down until he feels the soft hair between your legs.

“I can’t,” you say, half-heartedly pulling away. He just scoots his body closer, pressing his already aching cock against the curve of your low back as his fingers slip between your legs. A small shuddering sigh from you makes his cock twitch, you press your body back into his in response. 

“Sure about that, sweetheart?” He whispers into the shell of your ear, savoring the sharp intake of breath from you as his middle finger grazes your clit. 

“Have - work - soon,” you pant out. “Need-” Your words are lost when his teeth graze the fluttering pulse in your neck. 

“What do you need, baby?” 

“You suck,” you say with a breathy laugh. 

“I can.” He grips your hip pulling you onto your back, he’s between your legs before you have a moment to protest. Smirking up at you he kisses your thighs, feeling the muscles flex as you squirm a bit, his beard scratching your tender skin. 

Your hand reaches down, tangling in his hair, trying to pull him up. “Gotta be quick.” He pulls back and your grip releases. Looking down at you he can’t help but lick his lips, his body hungry for all of you. 

“I think...” his hand travels around your thigh, fingers tracing your folds. Slowly he slides two fingers into your heat. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, eyes flutter, and your body arches up, pushing him in deeper. “I think, Okoye will allow you to be tardy just this once.” 

Panting, your eyes burn into him as he pulls out. Languidly he licks the moisture from them, humming in pleasure at your taste. You swallow hard, your own tongue flitting out to moisten your full lips. 

He dips down, tongue teasing. There isn’t a hint of protest from you now. 

Every subtle move you make, every small moan, drives him crazy. His body thrums with desire but he can wait, all he wants is to make you happy, to make you feel good. 

“James,” you cry, a tremor rocking your body. Until you, he’d always hated being called James but, god he loves how good your mouth makes it sound every damn time.  

His fingers join his tongue in the pursuit of your pleasure, stretching you open the barest bit. 

“Oh f-fuck,” you stutter. 

“You like that, baby girl?” You nod your head against the pillow. “Hmm? Didn’t hear ya?” He asks sliding in a third finger. 

Your hips buck up. “Bucky,” you whimper. “Please.” He leans down as far as he can, hovering over you while his fingers fuck you harder. 

“What do you want, love?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Baby, please.” 

“Not until you come for me.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, your back arches up, and a low moan fills the room. He loved driving you wild like this, loved seeing your body flushed and shuddering, loved knowing he could give you this. 

Traveling down your body his mouth pauses at your peaked nipples, savoring your cries as he circles them with his tongue and clips them with his teeth just enough. 

Once more between your thighs, he sucks at your center, knowing it will push you over the edge. You cry out, hands grabbing the sheets in white-knuckled fists, your walls squeezing his fingers tight. Only when your body goes limp beneath his touch, your breath coming in ragged gasps, does he stop. 

“Beautiful,” he breathes as he takes you in. 

“Come here,” you coo softly, arms open. The love and desire written all over your features make his heart sing. 

As he leans down, eager to give you what you both want, he finds himself enveloped in the warm static-like feeling of your power. Before he can think to do anything about it he’s on his back looking up at your smirk. 

“My turn,” you purr as you rub your dampness up the length of his cock. 

Leaning over him, your hair forms a curtain around your faces, so all he can see is you. He lifts his head to kiss you but you pull up, just out of reach, as you continue to rub against him. 

“You’re a goddamn tease,” he says with mock annoyance. 

“You started this, babe.” 

He shakes his head, a low laugh rumbling through him. This time he tangles his fingers in your curls, pulling you to him with unyielding force. 

“Kiss me,” he growls. You do, with conviction, as you slide him into you. 

Goosebumps cover his body for an instant, the feeling of your walls tightening around him, your warmth - god how did this always feel so damn good. He groans, your tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth, your teeth nipping his bottom lip. 

Your back arches lifting you away from his lips, your hips roll as you take what you need and all he wants to give. From this angle, he can see almost all of you. Soft full curves belie the powerful muscles beneath them - he loved every part. Hungrily his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, urging you faster. Your body responds.

His hips buck up, pushing deeper into you. When your cry reaches his ears it almost unravels him, the tension building in him dangerously close to release. 

“Bucky,” you say in a voice thick with desire. He watches hungrily as your hand slides down the front of your body, fingers beginning to stroke your clit. 

“That’s it, baby-” His words are cut off with a gasp as you reach your other hand back, pressing two fingers into the sweet spot behind his balls, applying just enough pressure. 

“Christ, Y/N!” His thigh muscles begin to tremble with the effort of not coming. 

“Mmm, you like that?” You ask grinning down at him, your finger still between your own legs as well as his. 

“Y-yes.” He grinds his teeth, “Keep that up sweetheart and-” He feels your body react, your own breath catching. 

“Come. Come with me.” Your lips remain parted as your gaze holds his. “James,” such a sweet sound. 

Bucky moans, deep and guttural, feeling the release take your both. The fog of his orgasm clears and you collapse, panting and shaking on top of him. He presses a kiss to your damp forehead.

“I love you, doll.”

“I love all of you,” you say in your signature response before kissing the corner of his jaw, nibbling the skin there a bit. “Even though you’ve made me so, so late.”

With that, you hop off the bed heading straight to the bathroom. He watches the sway of your hips and that immaculate ass walkaway. Already he could feel himself getting hard again - this super-soldier thing was a blessing and a curse. 

“Want company?” He asks, swinging his legs to the floor. You turn in the doorway to the bathroom. 

“Absolutely not,” you laugh. “You’ve done quite enough Mr. Barnes.”

“Fine,” he huffs with a smile. 

-

“I told her I didn’t mind the idea of moving in together but…” Ayo throws her hands up, “We’ve only been together a few months. It feels too soon!”

You can’t help but laugh, “In the states, we call that Uhauling.” 

“What’s a Uhauling?”

“A Uhaul is like a truck you use to move your stuff to a new place.” You toss her a fresh towel as you head to the training ring. “The joke is that us queer gals always move fast so we’re always in a Uhaul.” 

She shakes her head laughing, “So this is just a universally recognized habit?”

“Apparently.”

“How soon did you and Bucky move in?” 

“Oh no,” you laugh, “we are not to be used as a bar for anyone.”

“Why? You two are good together!” 

“Yeah, that is pure luck. Besides, if you were going on our standards you’d have moved in the same night you met.” You head down the corridor.

“You’re kidding right?”

“I was technically homeless. Look, it was a weird time.” You turn to face her walking backward, “Weren’t we talking about your situation?”

Ayo burst out laughing, “Talking about you is much more fun.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” The Kimoyo Beads at your wrist catch your attention as they light up with a call. 

“Hey,” you say as an image of a nervous Okoye pops up. 

She glances over her shoulder and back to her own beads, “Meet me at the lab. Now.” Instantly your blood chills. 

“What’s wrong? Is Bucky-”

“He’s fine. Just- I’ll meet you there. Go. Now.” Her image disappears leaving only Ayo’s concerned expression for you to focus on. Your mouth opens, though nothing comes out. 

Ayo nods, “Go. I’ll tell the others.” 

Shuri’s lab wasn’t far from where the Dora Milaje trained. You run at full speed, all the while your heart thundering against your ribcage from more than just the exertion. 

When you reach the open sitting area just outside the main lab you skid to a less than graceful halt gaping at Bucky, T’Challa, and the box on the low table between them. 

You’d never seen it. Bucky had always wanted to go to fittings and consultations alone. The most absurd thought crosses your mind, he never told you that it was beautiful. The gold details glint in the sun, the grey-blue metal sleek and somewhat understated - a far cry from the silver-tone of the old piece. Still… the arm could only mean one thing. 

“Doll,” Bucky breathes, holding his hand out to you. All you can do is look from him to the arm and to Okoye - she stands toward the back looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

“What is this?” You ask, your tone demanding an answer. 

“Steve got in touch,” T’Challa says. “Something big is coming.” You raise a brow as Bucky approaches, wrapping his arm around you. 

“How big?”

“Alien horde big,” Okoye answers walking to the couch, plopping down. Once again you look around the room, expecting someone to elaborate.

“Seriously?” 

“So he says,” T’Challa runs a hand over his face. “There was an incident several hours ago in New York. And both Wanda and The Vision were attacked in Edinburg.”

“Wanda?!” You pull away from Bucky, body humming with energy suddenly. “Is she ok?” Bucky’s warm hand rests between your shoulder blades. 

“She is,” Okoye leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The Vision was injured.” 

“How-”

“We aren’t sure,” T’Challa says as Shuri bustles in. 

“Can’t he phase through things? Like, manipulate his density at will?” She’s studying a projection of the arm from her Kimoyo Beads. 

“I guess. Seemed to do something like that when we ran into him in Berlin,” Bucky says, tugging you close once more, your back pressed to his chest. 

“Wild,” with a flick the image disappears. “Let’s get this taken care of. It should be perfect.”

Bucky laughs a little, “Well you made-”

“Hold on.” You turn to face him, “You don’t have to do this. Not this.”

“I do.” His tone is matter-of-fact.

“No. I agreed to fight when necessary, you didn’t. The others are coming you don’t have to-”

He shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips. “You actually think I’m going to let you and Steve go without me? Not happening.” He traces the scar on your right cheek, the one he left when he was still Hydra’s tool. 

“If you fight, I fight.” You know there’s no use in arguing with him but you stand stubbornly, blocking his path to Shuri. 

His lips press against your forehead, “Let me get this taken care of.” Numbly you nod and step aside, Shuri grabs the arm and they disappear into the lab. 

“For what it’s worth,” Okoye says from her place on the couch, “I did try to talk him out of it.” 

“Who told him in the first place?” You feel your anger peak. 

“I did. We need all hands and he deserved to know what was coming,” T’Challa doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful. 

“Where’s Nakia then?” You spit. 

“Spain. She’s been informed but will likely not make it in time.” He crosses over to you. “If I thought there was a way to keep him from it, Y/N, I would have.” His hand feels heavy on your shoulder. “You have to believe me.” You do, even though you hate it, you know he’s speaking the truth. 

Biting your lip you nod in acknowledgment, not trusting yourself to speak. 

“Your gear and a brief is in ready room four, I’ll have Bucky meet you.” He sighs heavily, “General.” Okoye nods and stands.

As she passes you she says, “Meet us on the landing deck when you’re ready.”

In the room you perch on the edge of a small couch, body so tense you feel you may snap. Everything you read seemed too horrible to be real and then there was Bucky… 

You knew when you accepted T’Challa’s offer to stay in Wakanda that you may be called to her defense. The prospect hadn’t bothered you at all. But Bucky hadn’t been a part of that bargain - he’d been granted amnesty here as both an apology and a service to the memory of T’Challa’s father, given that both men had been victims of the same monster. 

A voice in the back of your mind whispers that you should have known better. There was no world in which James Barnes would let you face a fight without him. You weren’t in the mood to listen to that reasonable voice though. 

With a swoosh, the door slides open and Bucky enters, standing before you. You don’t even look up, just remain staring at your hands and trying to not tear the room apart. He kneels and two hands slide over yours, one warm and calloused the other surprisingly warm and smooth. 

Bucky runs his left hand up your right forearm before cupping your cheek, gently coaxing you to look at him. All you can do is stare into those cool grey-blue pools. God you loved those eyes. His thumb rubs over your bottom lip as his eyes crinkle with a smile. 

“Incredible,” he breathes. 

“That’s Shuri’s style.”

“I meant you.” 

Despite yourself, you laugh. “My god you’re a sap, Mr. Barnes.” He kisses you tenderly. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Barnes.” Taking your hands once more he tugs you up, “Come on.”

“What’re you-”

“Shower.”

“What’s the point?” You ask pulling your hands back. 

“Trust me. If you can take a hot shower before a battle, do it. Plus,” he runs his left fingers down your right arm, “It’s been a while since I’ve held you with both arms.”

In the steam, you study him. A team of Wakandan surgeons had removed all they could of the remaining Hydra tech from his shoulder, replacing it with a shoulder of Shuri’s making, almost a year before. You’d loved it, loved that it made him feel free of Hydra - at least physically. Now with the arm, you worried that he’d lose that sense of freedom. 

He rubs his left shoulder with his right hand, looking suddenly bashful. “Do you… like it?” 

You nearly laugh and cry all at once. “It’s beautiful and it’s a part of you. I love it. But do you?”

He studies his left hand before responding. “Yeah.” He flexes the fingers, “I chose this one. Somehow that matters.”  

Tenderly you cup his cheek, “Of course that matters.”

Smiling, he wraps you up in his arms, holding you tight. You settle your ear just over his heart, the sound calming some of the anxiety in your chest as it always did. 

“I don’t like this,” you say as he runs his new fingers over the scarred skin of your back.

“Me either.”

“Then stand down. Please,” your voice cracks just a bit. “You’ve fought enough.” 

He pushes you back a bit allowing him to look into your eyes. “I chose this one too.” 

How could you argue with him after that? He’d spend a lifetime - even before Hydra - fighting battles he didn’t want any part in. What right did you have to take this from him?

“I choose to be by your side. Maybe I didn’t say in sickness and in health and all that jazz, but it was implied. Same goes for war and peace. You’re stuck with me baby.”

“And you apparently don’t trust your wife or your best friend to handle it,” you tease, trying to sound light-hearted.

He laughs, a wet piece of hair falling in his face. “Oh, I have no doubt you two would handle it. It’s how that has me worried.”

“So little faith.”

“Too much faith,” he says with a smile kissing you. “Faith that left to your own devices you two won’t know when to quit.” Playfully you punch him in his flesh shoulder. 

You think you could stay in the warmth and safety of this shower forever. After a few more minutes in one another’s arms you know it’s time though. 

Bucky grabs the towel before you’re able, a soft look on his features. With what could only be described as reverence he dries you off, littering your skin with burning kisses, leaving you aching for more. 

He sends you off to get changed as he dries himself but you hungrily watch him. Your teeth gnaw your bottom lip as you take in the muscles of his back, his thigs, all of him. Teasing, you run your power over his skin, touching and caressing in the way that only you can. 

“Didn’t you get enough this morning?” He asks flicking the towel at you.

“I’ll never have enough,” you grab his ass before winding your arms around him from behind. Your hands slide down the hard planes of his abdomen to the soft hair just below his bellybutton. Before you can go any farther he grabs your hands. Testing his resolve you kiss the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. 

He groans but doesn’t give in. “After this is over we aren’t leaving the house for days.”

“Deal,” you say, releasing him. 

Slipping into your gear felt different. 

You did it multiple times a week for training and yet knowing that you’d likely be putting it to the test made each piece feel heavy with purpose. 

Methodically you check the tiny Panther’s Teeth knives at your wrists pushing them out of their holsters with your power. The blades were only about an inch and a half long but they were incredibly deadly and calibrated to react with intensity at the slightest push from your telekinetic ability. 

The vambraces on your forearms absorbed kinetic energy much like T’Challa’s suit. They had a little bonus feature though in that you could use your power to enhance the impact of the blasts from them, even if they weren’t fully charged. Habitually, you make sure they feel solid. 

Finally, you slip your twin short spears into their holsters at your hips. They were much like those the other Dora Milaje carried but about half the size; they too were enhanced to pact a little extra oomph when combined with your power and would return just like your Panther’s Teeth.

When you finish, Bucky is watching you. 

He looked too handsome for a fight in that navy jacket. As his eyes rove over you your stomach begins to flutter. When they meet yours the fluttering ceases, there isn’t desire in his expression as you expected - they look so somber. 

Crossing to you he holds your gaze, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Remember the promise we made in Germany?”

“Bucky, don’t.” You move past him but he catches your arm in his vibranium grip. 

“Y/N -”

“I’m barely handling you coming, don’t make me do this too.”

“Look at me, Y/N.” His tone perfectly poised between gentle pleading and stern demand. With a sigh you do. 

 “This isn’t like before-”

“You’re right. You could stay out of it and stay-”

“But,” he continues as if you’d said nothing, “it’s a risk all the same. You promise me you’ll keep going, you won’t give up if something happens…” 

With effort, you swallow the lump in your throat. “I remember that promise going both ways.” 

He nods, “I swear. I will try.” 

“Me too. But-” 

You don’t have time to say more. His lips are on yours coaxing them open, sucking the breath and resistance and fear from you. For that moment there was nothing but him, nothing but the love you felt that burned so damn bright it dulled the shadows of your past and all its losses. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips. 

“I love all of you, James.” He smirks at the sound of his given name. 

“But,” you continue causing his brows to knit in concern, “no heroic bullshit like last time.”

He laughs, “What do you mean?”

“No running off with Steve to save the world. No goodbyes. No heroics. We’ve got a goddamn army backing us this time so there’s no need for that-”

“As I recall you got arrested and went on summer vacation with Steve’s team.”

“Says the man who took a nice long nap.” You smile so big it hurts. “I mean it though.”

“Agreed,” he nods. “No heroics.”

The vibration at your wrist tells you it’s time to face whatever was waiting out there. But just not yet. You kiss him once more, just needing to feel those lips. Another vibration, and another. 

“Doll,” he pulls back. 

“I know, I know,” you grumble. 

Through the glass, you see the team land, and despite the circumstances, your heart ticks up a bit in excitement at seeing them. Over the past two years, you’d seen Steve a handful of times when he visited but had kept in contact with the others through encrypted emails and some handwritten letters. 

As the two of you approach, you overhear T’Challa giving Steve a rundown of assets joining this fight. When he catches sight of you he smiles.

“And-”

“A semi-stable hundred-year-old man,” Bucky quips. You roll your eyes and release his hand, stepping past Steve to greet Natasha and Sam. 

“You look good,” Sam says warmly as he hugs you tight. 

“You look the same.”

He laughs, “Some of us didn’t get a cushy new set up in wonderland.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me. Natasha looks great so?”

“Why did I miss you again?” He asks as Natasha laughs. You embrace the spy and hear Wanda. 

“Y/N!” She shouts from the ship. Vision leans against the ramp as she releases him to run toward you. 

“Hey!” You huff, squeezing her. “You’re ok?” You hold her back from you giving her a once over with both your eyes and power, that invisible sense sinking under the surface for hidden harm. 

“I’m good. Promise. Vis though,” she glances back as he limps over to you all. 

“Mrs. Barnes,” he nods respectfully. 

You laugh, “Y/N.” He gives a weak smile, flinching before Wanda wraps her arm around him for support. 

“Let’s get you to Shuri,” Steve says from behind you. 

You move to follow the rest of them up to the lab but Okoye stops you. 

“I’d rather have you stay down here so you’re ready to move if needed,” she says. You cast a concerned look in Wanda and Vision’s direction. “You know I’ll look after them.” 

You nod and wave off the others. She follows them leaving you hovering somewhat unsure of what to do for a moment. 

“So,” Sam nudges you with a shoulder, “hear you got hitched, doesn’t look like he put a ring on it. Beyonce would not approve.” You laugh and Bucky wraps an arm around you.

“I keep tryin’ but she won’t let me.”

“The last two things I need are a wedding ring and your shit Wilson.”

“Just a friendly observation,” he winks. 

“Barnes!” Ayo calls from across the landing deck. You and Bucky both turn. Ayo laughs, “The broody one.”

“Is that supposed to help differentiate them?” Wilson snipes.

“Wow, I am not broody.” You say with mock offense. 

“And I am?”

“Of course you are wolfman. Here,” she hands him a large gun. “Just like you asked.”

You eye it, “You asked for that?”

“Mhm,” he takes it in both hands, looking it over. 

“Wakandan tech and he wants a soviet rifle,” you cross your arms sighing. 

“Old wolves don’t learn new tricks,” he says absently. “Thanks, Ayo.” 

“Of course,” she smiles. “Who’s this?” 

Sam opens his mouth but you cut him off. “Just some guy I know. Likes to dress like a bird.” Ayo raises a brow. 

“Honestly, did you Stockholm me into missing you because I do not deserve the kind of abuse I’m getting here.” 

You laugh, “This is, Sam Wilson. An amazing hero of world renown.” 

“I think I hate you.”

Ayo cracks, “Good to meet you, Sam.” 

With his gun slung across his back, Bucky pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I may hurl. Are they always like this?” Sam asks Ayo. 

“Worse.”

“Hey!” You protest, placing a hand dramatically on Bucky’s ass. 

Before you can say more something slams into the dome above the city. You all flinch, staring as the burning debris tumbles away. 

“Holy shit,” Sam breathes. 

“Told you, I love this place,” Bucky says. 

The machine of military efficiency kicks in. 

You’re moving constantly almost from the moment the alien craft hits the dome. Making sure weapons are distributed, that the hovercrafts are in place, and anything else Okoye orders. It leaves little time to think about what was coming, to consider the size or the scale, to give space to the feeling of terror in your gut. You suppose there’s a certain kind of comfort in that. 

When the movement stops, when you board the raft with your friends to ride into whatever awaits you, that’s when you feel it. It isn’t the fear or terror you anticipated though. Fierce determination courses through your veins like lava, searing and unyielding.  

You’d fought impossible odds to keep Bucky safe and whole before - knowing then the lengths you’d go to save him. This was tenfold. It wasn’t only him you were determined to protect now. You would fight for your home, for the life you’d built with him, you’d fight for your friends, this family you’d once again cobbled together from the ashes. It didn’t matter if it was the governments of the world, an alien overlord, or god himself - nothing would stop you. 

As you all fall into formation you spot, M’Baku. He acknowledges you both with a nod. 

“You look alright for a colonizer, wolfman,” M’Baku quips, gripping Bucky’s forearm with a firm shake. 

“I’ll take that compliment,” Bucky smirks. 

“Not with the other Dora?” He asks you. 

You smile at Bucky, “I’m where I need to be.” M’Baku nods in understanding. 

Taking your place on Bucky’s left you let yourself soak in the impossibility you see just beyond the dome. You’d seen the earlier collision but seeing the massive wedge-shaped ships looming over the tree line made what you were all facing seem so much more real.

Steve, T’Challa, and Natasha make their way back with somber looks on their faces. 

“They surrender?” Bucky asks as Steve falls into place beside him. 

“Not exactly,” he sighs. 

As the Wakandan forces begin to chant you feel adrenaline crawl up your spine and maybe the slightest spark of hope. 

It fades quickly. 

There isn’t a word for the creatures that hurl themselves against the wall of the dome with pure savage abandon. They don’t care that it burns their bodies, severs their limbs, kills them. More and more come. 

“They’re killing themselves…” Okoye says in a horrified tone. You look down the line to her and hold her gaze, knowing your own horror is reflected on her face. 

“What the hell,” Bucky breathes at your side. 

You glance up to him just as he reaches for you. His kiss is desperate, somehow scaring and comforting you at once. When he pulls away his eyes speak volumes - the loudest being love. Without a word you both nod to return your gaze to the battle before you. 

With barely a thought from you, your vambrace raises its barrier, joining the other glowing shields of the border tribe warriors. Bucky shelters behind it and you both take aim. 

The sheer numbers of them allow for some of the creatures to break through. With no concern, they rush into the onslaught of fire. Ultimately it’s futile, the beasts simply keep coming. 

The realization hits you but Bruce voices the reality before you can force your mouth to form the words. Allowing these creatures to enter anywhere but here will spell disaster… 

The choice is an obvious one, though far from easy. You can feel the ripple of something between mourning and determination flow throughout the gathered warriors. Maybe this would be the end of Wakanda as she had always been, but she would not truly fall. 

T’Challa issues the battle cry and a strange sense of calm falls over your shoulders before you all charge. 

Violence, you understood, had been intimate with since you were a child, but never like this. Intimate violence was calculated even when done in heated rage or hatred. This mele? This was something else entirely. 

In moments you’re separated from Bucky but there isn’t time to think about it. There isn’t time to think about anything other than survival. The creatures are endless, talons raking and teeth lined maws dripping with death. 

A quick glance to your right and you see Okoye’s spear knocked from her grasp by one beast as another bares down. 

“Oko!” You yell. Your power grips the spear, hurling it back to her. You push one creature back and send the small vibranium blades at your wrist hurtling through the skull of the other. It drops and she spears the remaining creature. 

There’s no time to feel victorious. 

With a somber nod, you stand back to back facing down the beasts surrounding you. Taking a breath you focus a barrier of your power around you both, enough to slow the creatures. You whip the small blades through as many creatures as you can focus on, Okoye shoots with impeccable aim, and you pick off monsters with one of your half spears. Even so, it isn’t enough, and you can feel that familiar ache begin to blossom in your skull. 

It doesn’t matter. You push past it, ignore it, will your power to give you more. Stopping will mean death and you are not ready.

“If we die here,” Okoye yells back at you, “my only regret will be not trying that Pink Drink from Starbucks.” 

A laugh burbles from your lips, “You should have listened to me and you could die without regret!” Letting your barrier drop for a moment to give your mind a break, you send a wave of kinetic force from your vambraces pushing back the beasts. There is nothing but snarls and blood for several beats as you try to force your ability to comply.

Her back slams into yours as you both pant. Your power forms another barrier despite the screaming pain in your skull. Red suddenly obscures your vision. Quickly you wipe at your eye, the back of your hand coming away bloody. That… was new… and couldn’t be good. 

“If we live,” she says between gulping breaths, “we’re going to order the whole menu. Even the unicorn bullshit”

“If we live I’m taking you to get good coffee,” you tell her.

“We can do both.”

You sway, “I can’t hold this up much longer, Oko.”

“It’s alright,” her tone is resigned. “If we go, I’m glad to go with you sister.”

As you feel your power waver something bright, almost like lightning tears through the creatures surrounding you. 

“What now?!” Okoye groans. You both look around until you spot a figure, tendrils of lightning radiating from him. You’d never had the chance to meet him but there was clearly only one person this could be-

“Thor,” you say, admittedly a little awestruck. 

“Now that is an impressive white boy,” Okoye laughs. 

For the briefest moment, hope flairs within you. His arrival gave you a slight reprieve and may have just brought the odds more in your favor. 

“General!” A few Dora call over. 

“Go,” you tell Okoye. “I need to find Bucky.”

She nods, “Don’t die without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you call back as you run. 

The sound of a semi-automatic rifle draws you to his location. 

“Bucky!” You bellow, hoping to be heard over the din. Several creatures rush your way - brandishing both of your short spears you take them down, not wanting to use your power as your head was still pounding. 

“Doll!” Just seeing him there, whole and unharmed, makes you feel like you can breathe easier. Briefly, he pulls you close before letting loose a few additional rounds. 

“What happened?!” he tilts your face, the vibranium smooth against your skin. 

“That bad?” His concern is enough of an answer. “May have pushed myself a little too far. But in my defense, we were one slobbery bite from death.” You push away from him and fire your spears at several approaching beasts. 

“No you don’t,” Bucky tucks you under his right arm, firing only with his left. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” No part of you wants to protest, which is surprising. Feeling his solid, reassuring form behind you is as grounding as ever. 

“Woo!” An unknown voice whoops. “We’re gonna talk about that arm later, man!”

You stare at the small figure as it scurries off, firing on - and killing - several creatures. 

“I’m sorry,” you take a shot. “Am I hallucinating or was that a fucking raccoon?!”

“You’re not hallucinating,” Bucky releases you to reload. “He just tried to buy my arm.”

“How much?” You toss over your shoulder as you cover him. 

“What?” He sounds incredulous. “I’m not selling my arm.” Bucky clears a path and you both start moving. 

“Too bad,” you spear a creature in the neck, narrowly avoiding a spray of fetid blood. “Could have put it toward that honeymoon we never took.” Bucky��s laugh brings a smile to your face. 

“Maybe I’ll talk numbers with the raccoon after we defeat the fucking alien horde.”

“Do that.” You both tear through a small cluster of the beasts. “Just don’t knick the paint before then. No one wants damaged goods.” The humor drains from you quickly. 

“Something’s coming,” you can feel the vibration in the earth. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathes as the earth beneath the barrier bulges and a platoon of circular tanks tears through the earth. 

With everything you’ve got, you both begin to sprint in the opposite direction. The chatter in your comms is almost overwhelming. Looking up you spot Sam and Rhodes taking aim at the tanks, sending them skittering to the side. It gives you an idea. 

“Rhodes!” You call into your coms. “If you can get a lock on me, I need a lift.

“On it!” He responds. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky grips your arm drawing you both to a brief halt. 

“I can knock them down but I can’t exactly-” 

“Y/N, we agreed no hero-”

“I can do this, Buck! I have to.” Rhodes swoops down, grabbing you under your arms. The last glimpse you catch of Bucky is him shaking his head, a scowl darkening his features. You’d deal with that later. 

“What’s the plan?” Rhodes asks.

“Just get me in range of one of them, I can knock them off balance and-”

“Dominos,” he responds. 

“Exactly.”

Tapping into your power sends a fresh tingle of pain through your skull but again you push it aside. You can practically feel the heat of the machine with your power as you reach out. Using your hands to focus the energy you slam it into the side of the tank. With a groan, it topples taking down three others with a satisfying explosion. 

“Nice!” Rhodes cheers. 

You manage to take down several more, spotting Wanda’s signature red glow as you do so. She was supposed to be with Vision… You hear Sam on the comms.

“Shit,” you sigh. “Heading to Vision now,” you call to the team - ignoring Bucky’s protest in your ear. 

Rhodes drops you and you sprint toward the trees. You can’t help but think that you aren’t too far from your house right now. 

That thought flees as you see Steve flung aside by an attacker. 

“Steve!” You try to force your legs to move faster, sending your power out to grab the man. Instead, your vision goes red, blood filling your eyes. Crying out you double over in pain, convinced that your skull was actually fracturing. 

After a few breaths, you’re able to right yourself and make your way over to them. 

The man is dead on the ground, Steve hovers over Vision. You hold your breath, terrified that the worst has happened, your heart already aching for Wanda. But as Steve turns to face you it’s clear that Vision, while injured, is still alive. 

“Y/N!” Steve quickly strides over to you. Pushing past him you kneel before Vision. 

“Mrs. Barnes,” he says weakly. 

“Y/N, remember?”

He huffs a hollow laugh, “Yes, Y/N. You’re bleeding.” 

“I’m fine.” You blink your eyes, trying to clear the red from them as you place a hand on his shoulder sending what you could of your power into him. 

You’re no Wanda but you can feel the broken parts, sense where whatever animates him is trying to reform the connections. Huffing in exasperation you fall back on your ass, resting your forearms on your knees. 

“Sorry, this is well above my pay grade.” He nods, giving you a wan smile. 

“Y/N,” Steve’s voice is stern, “your eyes.”

“Really, I’m good, Steve.”

“That does not look good.” You know he’s right, know you’re clearly pushing your power to places you never should. But when the alternative was far less appealing what choice was there?

“Here,” he kneels, producing a small flask of water. Taking your chin he tilts your head up to him and slowly flushes your eyes.

“Buck’s gonna be pissed,” he smirks. 

“He already is. He’ll get over it.”

“Vis!” You turn to see Wanda land at his side and stride a bit away to give them space. 

You’re about to say something to Steve when Vision cries out in pain. You whirl around. 

“He’s here,” Vision breathes, sending a chill up your spine. 

“Stay on them,” Steve orders before calling for the others. 

The stillness that follows as you see the team come into focus makes every hair stand on end. On instinct, you take a fighting stance spear ready. 

He emerges from thin air as though he ripped a hole in reality itself… Maybe he did. 

You feel disconnected from the scene before you. One by one you watch as this Thanos swats away some of the strongest people you know like flies. You watch, holding your position, and try with all your might to not hear the choice Wanda is being forced to make behind you.

“Y/N,” her voice cracks, “tell him I can’t.”

You turn. Vision’s eyes are begging you to make her listen but Wanda… The desperation in her face. Your chest constricts, cutting off your words.

Vision speaks before you’re able, “I’ll just feel you.” Tears burn your eyes. 

It was too close to a refrain you and Bucky would often use to comfort one another in dark times when memories threatened to swallow you whole. Just feel me. 

Wanda looks from you to Vision and back and nods. You turn away, both unable to watch this and determined to protect her with your life. 

It takes everything you have to not charge in with the others, especially when you see your Bucky, your brave soldier, blown back. Even so, you stay. Wanda was doing the impossible - making a choice you never could - and you would not leave her alone, not even for Bucky. 

Rage blossoms in your chest with every beat of your heart, with every soft sob you hear from behind you. This fucking bastard. 

He inches closer and closer. 

Steve takes a hit so hard that you fear he may not recover but there isn’t time to consider. 

Hoping to distract Thanos you hurl your spear at his head, knowing it would be entirely ineffective. You just need to buy Wanda time. 

He raises his gauntleted fist, the stones glowing with ethereal light, as you saw him do before attacking the others. Before he’s able to make a move you push every ounce of power you can from your body and latch onto the gauntlet. 

The pain inside your skull was beyond words, your vision floods red. This may kill you. 

Silently you beg Bucky to forgive you, beg him to know that you’re sorry and that you love him. 

Thanos staggers back, looking briefly from the gauntlet to you, sneering. 

Quickly you realize it isn’t the metal you should focus on but the stones. If you could rip them- Almost without thought your power latches onto the stones and-

All the breath is pulled from your lungs. 

The world goes quiet before sizzling into vibrant flashes of color. Each fills your vision with a different image - the vastness of space, a golden orange field of water…

You feel… electric. No longer does your head hurt but rather it sings with power. Power beyond anything you ever could comprehend. 

It consumes your awareness, your entire being. You want them, want this. You pull harder, something deep within you hungry for what these stones held. 

“Intoxicating isn’t it?” A bass voice asks, strangely sincere. “But they aren’t meant for you little warrior.” 

You’re so lost in the stones grip that you don’t see Thanos raise his right fist. 

Suddenly there is nothing but darkness. 

A blast of indescribable energy shakes you back to consciousness. Desperately you gasp for air. 

“I got you,” only then do you feel Bucky’s arms around you cradling you to his chest. 

Your whole body trembles. Your mind is on fire, your senses on overdrive. It hurts. Everything hurts. A yearning almost like hunger roars deep in your mind, calling for that power even as your own ability surges, flooding your perception.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky whispers in your ear. “I’ve got you, doll. Just feel me.” 

I only feel you.

“Wanda,” you croak as you push from his arms. You don’t register that it’s odd how you practically float to the ground. 

Bucky catches your arm but it’s not necessary. You’re frozen in place as you watch Thanos impossibly pull Vision back together. 

Wanda screams, lunging for him, but he bats her away. With no effort, you catch her midair in your power drawing her to you and Bucky.

Her head rests on your chest as you shield her from seeing Thanos rip the stone from Vision’s head. Bucky embraces you both, his back between you and Thanos.

“No,” she weakly whispers. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She jumps, and you all turn as Thor’s ax slams into Thanos. It’s a death blow, it must be, nothing could survive that. Even so, you feel no joy. The losses were too great.

The instant Wanda sees Vision’s prone and colorless form she pulls away from you. Immediately you think to stop her but Bucky pulls you against him. 

“Let her go, Y/N.”

You turn, pressing your face into Bucky’s chest, breathing in his familiar smell. Trying with all your might to just feel him and not the pain. Just him and not-

Another indescribable surge of power somehow more powerful than the last washes over you, disrupting your thoughts, preventing you from feeling him or anything but that intoxicating sizzle of the stones. It burns through you, seeming to set your very blood on fire this time - but you like it, something in you humming with satisfaction. 

When it retreats, again your body begins to tremble, bordering on convulsions. Your power felt loosed - a wild animal freed, and hungry...

“Just me, baby doll.” His arms crush you to him as though he’s trying to hold you together. You try to focus on only that comforting pressure. 

“Just feel-” You feel his left arm loosen its hold, feel a shift in the air around you, in the very fiber of his being. Immediately you lift your head from his chest. 

Bucky releases you, taking a half step back. He holds up his left hand, the fingers fluttering away in the wind. But that couldn’t be what was really happening. It couldn’t be… It moves up his forearm.

“Y/N, I-” he breathes. 

“No,” you rasp.

Immediately you press your hands flat against his chest. All the power that had been pulsing through your body, threatening to overtake you since the moment you touched those stones, you call to it now. 

You will not take him from me, you silently swear to anything that will hear you. I will not let you have him. 

His pupils dilate as you flood his body with your power. Willing it onward, you feel it permeate every cell, latch on to even the smallest particles. You feel each minute piece of him vibrating with a light and warmth that somehow, even at the molecular level, seems familiar, feels somehow like home, like your Bucky. 

You also feel as each minuscule point of light… goes dark. 

In your periphery, you see the plume of dust that was his left arm flutter away in the air. This insidious force rips him away, bit by bit. As you lose him it reverberates through your body, each tendril of power snapping back into you like a whip. 

No, you growl to the universe. Desperately you push your power farther, beg it to be stronger even as your sight begins to flood with red. Frantically you blink away the blood. He is mine. 

You never look away from his eyes. They shift from wonder, to fear, to something soft, so soft. So… kind. 

Bucky raises his right hand to cup your cheek. You feel nothing but the soft caress of ash.  

“I -” his voice seems so far away - “I love all of you.”

“No, please-” You beg. A tear runs from his left eye, catching the light for an instant before his beautiful face vanishes.  

Your left-hand pushes through nothing but air, beneath your right though... His indomitable, ever steady, heart - the most precious gift anyone ever gave you - still remains, determined to beat for just a moment longer, only a fleeting moment, until your fist closes on nothing but ash.

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Tags:

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Note:

Tag list pumpkins, just know I hate me too.  I wanted to let y’all know that this story will be different from the OFAM you grew to love, because it sort of has to be. We’re going on a whole different journey with this reader and while Bucky will be echoing through this series, it will not be the same (obviously). I hope you stick with the reader through this leg of the trip but I understand if you ever want to hop off, just let me know.  Love you all so much! 

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky feels #bucky fic #wakanda

[snorlaxlovesme]

This is just uh. A thing. A long thing. I actually drafted it back in July during Pride Month but chickened out before I could post it. But then I discovered that Ace Week exists and what better time to rant about the quintessential Ace Experience(TM) amiright?

.

I’ve struggled to define my sexuality since I was like 17. I can remember me and some of my girl friends going to the mall and talking about boys. I was currently teetering around a relationship with one of our male friends and they asked me to define why I was attracted to him and I couldn’t. They didn’t really think anything of it, moved along in the conversation and said “well X isn’t my type, so I guess I wouldn’t get it.” But the conversation stuck with me.

1. Because I never really thought the idea of a “type” was real. I didn’t think people ACTUALLY arbitrarily decided who wasn’t worthy of their affection based on a random set of archetypes. I thought they were shallow for saying that about him. I thought it was a mean concept to not let someone be “your type.”

2. Not being able to identify what I DID find attractive about him was....off. Like sure, he looked fine, but tbh he looked like an average teenage white boy and I couldn’t really pick out a physical identifier that made me want him. That seemed like a bad thought to have about one’s significant other.

Needless to say, that non-relationship went nowhere and I eventually told him I wasn’t feeling it. I thought I just wasn’t mature enough for relationships yet.

At age 18 I had my first kiss. Another male friend of ours. Another relationship I’d been teetering around. I had told him multiple times that I didn’t like the idea of dating him so soon after I had broken things off with X. It felt weird, too soon, let’s hold off. But part of me also didn’t like the fact that I was 18 and had never been kissed. It wasn’t at the forethought of my mind all the time, but it lingered back there. Maybe it was because, puberty-wise, I was a late bloomer. Maybe it was because, in my friend group, I was always somehow dubbed “the innocent one.” I didn’t want to continue being late for every major marker in life, so when Y took me up on a hill at sunset and said “I’m going to kiss you now” I let him.

It was not what I thought it would be. All the magical descriptions of kisses in YA books were drastically over-selling the experience. The first one was nice enough, but I couldn’t help but thinking “this feels exactly like kissing a relative” and being a little relieved and little disappointment that the sensation was exactly the same. The second kiss was much worse because he put his tongue in my mouth and I quickly discovered I hateddd that.

I thought that maybe it was Y’s fault. I didn’t like him the way he liked me, so there was no magic. No spark. But also maybe I was just doing it wrong? He did kind of imply that I wasn’t the best kisser (god, how romantic) and so maybe the more we did it the more I would like it?

We went on one more date after that, and almost every time we made eye contact he tried to kiss me. It was horrible. I spent the better part of the day actively trying to not look at him because I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t want to do it anymore. That seemed like a bad thought to have about one’s significant other.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out. I’d like to say I handled the situation as maturely as with X, but in reality I ghosted this kid for like 2.5 months and eventually sent him a facebook message saying I wasn’t feeling it. I figured I wasn’t mature enough for relationships yet.

College I had no time for relationships, or so I told myself. Maybe I didn’t have the mental capacity for them because I was too busy wishing I would get hit by a bus (higher education did not go great for someone with undiagnosed ADHD). I kind of assumed everyone also felt the same way, but people were coupling up around me left and right. Everyone had the same stressors I had, maybe even more so, and yet they had time to form new relationships and have noisy sex in the dorm room next to mine. I didn’t have time, though.

My roommate asked me in those first few years if maybe I was asexual. I actually got mad at her for even implying it. Asexuals were emotionless robots who were so repulsed by sex they didn’t even want to THINK about it. I talked about sex with my friends all the time! I masturbated when she wasn’t around like every other day! How dare she even insinuate that I might be one of those people. I just wasn’t ready to be in a relationship yet.

And sure, I’d been on tumblr for years at that point. I’d been relatively educated about the LGBT community and its various factions. But nothing about it screamed ME. All those people seemed to have the same shared experience of knowing who they were since forever, of experiencing some form of discrimination based on who they were. I had always been straight, right? And no one’s ever discriminated me for who I liked. 

It was weird, though. Getting older and hearing more and more people talking about sex and just like, NOT feeling the same way. Was talking to my friends in a group chat one day, and one of them was head over heels for one of her coworkers. Not in love, but I-wanna-rip-off-your-McDonald’s-uniform-and-fuck-you-right-here-in-the-break-room (do McD’s even have break rooms? whatever) lust. She’s like, “you know that electricity you feel when you’re next to someone you really, really like. where every time you get close to them you feel this MAGNETISM and your entire body feels hot--”

--and all I could think of was how that sounded EXACTLY how Bella described her feeling towards Edward in Twilight, and just how ridiculous it sounded. That’s some YA bullshit, that’s not real.

And then our other friend in the chat was like “yeah.”

Oh. Well I guess I just have a lower sex-drive than you guys. That’s whatever.

I didn’t really identify as asexual until I saw a post about an aspec identity called autochorissexuality. 

The term autochorissexual describes a subset of asexuality which is defined as: a disconnection between oneself and a sexual target/object of arousal; may involve sexual fantasies or arousal in response to erotica or pornography, but lacking any desire to be a participant in the sexual activities therein.

That...kinda sounded like me....

Like I said, I masturbated and all that jazz so I assumed I couldn’t be asexual. I literally loved orgasms. I read smut and watched porn to get off like I assumed the rest of the world did, not even really realizing that a lot of people...get off...thinking about people doing stuff....to THEM.

I do not think about people I know when I masturbate. It feels incredibly weird for them to pop up in any of my fantasies, and I kinda just assumed that meant I wasn’t attracted to any of them (which I’m not), so it was fine. It didn’t really occur to me that I literally NEVER fantasize about myself when I get off. If I read smut I’m thinking of the characters. If I watch porn I’m thinking of the actors. Never am I imagining someone hot and sexy doing hot and sexy things to me. I’m not even very good at getting off based on my imagination alone, unless I’m basically writing my own smut in my head and imagining what THEY enjoy. The thought of imagining things being done to ME feels weirdly...embarrassing? I don’t know. I don’t dig it, so I don’t think it. 

Again, it did NOT even occur to me that that might not be how other people operated.

I also didn’t know that asexuality COULD have subcategories like that, other than aromanticism, which was an identity I toyed with for a while and ultimately am still unsure about.

But learning that liking orgasms =/= allosexual was kind of a wake-up for me. 

After learning about autochorissexuality (which, while I am incredibly, infinitely grateful that someone coined that term so I could learn more about myself, I will never identify as because it is a mouthful and I honestly don’t know how to pronounce it), I began identifying as asexual. I was 21 at the time. I’m almost 26 now.

A couple people know. Mostly people who follow me on tumblr that I also know in real life. I never really had to “come out” to them per se because they saw my posts and rolled with it. Wasn’t a big deal. I think that I actually had a conversation and TOLD those friends in that group chat, but that didn’t feel like coming out, more like all of us finally coming to a realization about me we should have figured out a lot earlier. Also, they’re friends from tumblr, so they’re not the types to make a big deal out of that stuff either.

Even though I have a couple of tumblr friends that I skype with regularly, I don’t really bring it up in conversation that much. Like two of my irl friends (who, again, follow me on tumblr) know, and we don’t really talk about it much either. It’s there, we all know, but if I don’t bring it up, they don’t either.

I’ve never really “come out” before. Had to sit someone down and have the conversation. Part of me thinks it’s kind of pointless, because whether or not I’m sexually attracted to others isn’t any anyone else’s business, really. It doesn’t super impact my work life or my life with my friends or family, so why does it need to be said? If I decided I liked women and wanted to date one, that would be a big change that I’d have to address to someone. But me being asexual is just me continuing to not have sex with anyone, the way I always have. Seems like a weird thing to cause a fuss about.

But it’s part of me. And I want to talk about it sometimes. 

But I don’t even know how that conversation would go. Asexuality is a relatively invisible subset of the LGBTQIA+ community. Like, it’s the last letter, the one that often gets cut off. And when people do bring up the A, it’s for Ally. I’m not gonna get into the discussion about that, I don’t know enough queer history to form a hot take, but the point still stands that many people don’t know about asexuality. And while it seems relatively easy to explain, I guess--

”I don’t experience sexual attraction”

--it also feels way more complex than that. And I’m not very good at articulating why I’m NOT something else when I have a hard time identifying what that something even IS. I was the kid who thought having a “type” was shallow and mean! It didn’t occur to me that people’s sexual fantasies INCLUDE THEMSELVES AS PARTICIPANTS. So how do I explain my lack of attraction to people?

But maybe I’m being too reductive of the masses. Like, I’m not the brightest bulb in the bunch but *I* was able to learn what was asexuality was on my own. Who’s to say others haven’t? Maybe I won’t need to give an informative slideshow every time I come out to someone.

...But what if I’m wrong? What if I get into a relationship one day and I find myself INCREDIBLY attracted to my partner? What if I get into a relationship with a WOMAN one day and realize that I was les/bi/pan this whole time? I know that demisexuality exists, I know that sexuality is a spectrum and people are constantly learning about themselves and evolving. I don’t want to downplay that or..or...invalidate that. I know. But I’m an idiot. And I can’t help feeling that if I come out and commit to fun new adjective about myself and then all of a sudden that adjective doesn’t fit me anymore I’ll be labelled as fraud for forever and ever. 

I know that’s probably unlikely for the most part. But it’s still something that’s there in my mind that I feel every time I think about talking about it.

I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t know why I’m writing this post because there isn’t some grand conclusion to my narrative or sweeping answer to my problems. My story continues for as long as I live and maybe things will change and maybe they won’t. I’d like to be able to come out one day and say it. To my sisters. To my coworkers. To some random dude hitting on me who seems kind enough to understand there’s a reason I’m reluctant to flirt back. Probably not to my parents. I don’t know if I want to present the slideshow to them about my lack of sex life, nor do I think they would handle my act of vulnerability with grace or tact (boomers, y’know).

I guess I can end this post by saying that it’s not all bad. Not being “out” kinda sucks, but right now, knowing is enough. There are a hundred other micro situations from my past similar to the ones I spelled out above that made me wonder what was wrong with me. I wanted to be able to like someone the way other people did, to have a normal relationship, but I couldn’t force myself to do it and I didn’t know what was stopping me. The whole am I just broken  conversation whirled through my head many a night in college when insomnia prevented me from sleeping and depression stopped me from giving myself a fucking break. It sucked, and maybe it’s a little grim to think of asexuality as a diagnosis to a lifetime of symptoms, but that’s kind of what it felt like.

And that’s not bad! Why? Because i know that I’m not alone and that this is NORMAL . Being asexual is not being broken! It’s something that many people identify with! And honestly that thought alone thrills me enough to make this whole ridiculous narrative worth it. There’s a whole world of people out there feeling the exact same way as me, and none of us are wrong for feeling that way. It is unreal the kind of confidence that gives you.

My friend from earlier, the one who desperately wanted to bang her co-worker, she said something to me the other day that struck me with how far I’ve come in terms of my identity. I was sobbing to her on the phone about a shitty thing in my life, as one does, and she pointed out how the strangest things will get to you while others don’t even have an effect. If someone mentions how I don’t have my drivers license at the ripe old age of 25 I legitimately have a breakdown on the phone with her about it, but if people make jokes about me being a virgin I don’t even bat an eye. 

And it IS weird. If someone would have made a virgin joke at me at age 20 I probably would have spiralled into one of my late-night, crying-into-my-pillow sessions about how much I fucking SUCK at being a human, but at age 25 it’s just...whatever. As someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction, why WOULD I have had sex already? If I don’t seek it out, don’t want it, it’s not gonna be a part of my life, you know? And I don’t care. Past me, without this identifier, would have cared deeply. Current me could go her entire life without having sex and I don’t think it would drastically effect her mood. 

It’s weird how one little word can turn things around for you like that.

#ace #long post #asexual awareness week

[gayfrenchfry]

damn I just realized now that I've kinda started coming out to my friends being gay is just the new personality trait I fully embody to stop then from knowing anything about me. Like in middle school I was like the kinda mean one who like pushes her friends as a joke and I really hated it and wanted to not do that anymore but I was stuck because that was how everyone knew me and I was so scared of letting them know actual me and it makes me kinda thankful for social distancing and not seeing them in almost a year and most of them I haven't even talked to past a happy birthday text in the group chat especially since I went to a trade highschool instead of the regular hs in my town so since it's been so long I finally have a chance to reinvent myself as who I want to be but like thinking back to about a month ago when I was with two of my friends, one I'm pretty close with, one not so much, and id already come out to the first one but I wasn't sure about coming out to the other, but then the whole afternoon there were great moments that totally set up a good gay joke so Id mumble it when my back was turned but I eventually stopped mumbling and just said them out loud and those two straight friends probably didn't get most of them but it was fine the other one figured it out so I didn't have to awkwardly come out and then the rest of the time I was just being the gay friend but it felt wrong -especially when we started talking more about lgbt stuff and I thought I wanted to talk about it since I havent been able to but it was just the same conversation as Id had with her before, about her gay cousins and what not super homophobic but not exactly cool thing her mom said when there was a gay couple on tv, and the other one had to mention that she would date a girl, but girls are just too dramatic (literally everyone is chill but this one fucking girl is a drama fucking queen and I guess she thinks every other girl is too when the only people I have seen that come anywhere close to matching her level of drama is my old robotics team that had only boys on it)(also you don't have to give me a reason why you're not gay I don't give a fuck you can just be straight its fine)-since I was still kinda hiding just behind something new and at my new school it's great, when I get to actually go into school I'm in a new class each week bc we get to try out all the different shops and I can pretty much just sit next to the other obviously queer kids in class and we share a couple jokes, trade instagrams, and we're just instant friends and it's half of the reason I wanted to go to another school bc I wanted to meet other queer people and have more friends who get me a bit more. And everything is fun and cool there but with my friends I feel like I either gotta straighten up bc none of them (except my closeted gf) get any gay jokes or I gotta be outrageously gay and flamboyant or shit and both just feel wrong.

Anyways thats my rant, back to bottling everything up until the next time I just empty it out into the void called tumblr

[orenonahaichigoda]

I had a rough day, and came to a realisation. I will say a bit about my own experience, and then, after having to lay the groundwork of explaining 400 things about Japan because American schools and media think the whole world is the US, Western Europe, and places to blow up, making explaining necessary, will tie it to Ichigo, or at least how I portray him.

I'm Post Dankai Juniors, growing up in Japan. So's Kubo, actually. The boundaries of this Japanese generation are roughly '75 to '85, Yutori, the following generation that's always translated and localised as Millennial, pretty solidly set as beginning at '86. These things are always fuzzy because you can't vivisect living brains and find the part that likes char siu buns and the part that likes jazz fusion. I *majored* in Social Science. You'll have teachers who say "it is absolute that we date people who are similar to us because we're all actually narcists." (It *might* be because they're like our beloved family or community. Narcistic Personality is not universal) But it really just is fuzzy, and that teacher/book author is an idiot. Anyway, Yutori is always translated as Millennial. I don't know the end boundary. Post Dankai Juniors covers almost totally a debated throe for Germanic nations (I know Britain, Germany, and Nederland use the same generations as America, and their languages are Germanic) because of how fuzzy it all is, though.

Anyway, so since coming to the US, my interactions with other Asians, again, how is this defined when China, Mongolia, Japan all border Russia and West Asia includes Jordan and Saudi Arabia, South Asia is India's area, Southeast Asia is Laos, Thailand's area, I mean, find the Arabic kanji. I don't think Thailand even uses soy sauce. What the heck IS Asia, really? (Or "Middle East" when half of that's Africa and the other half shares plate with Europe? )

Anyway, my experience with Asians that are Boomer ages tends to be people who immigrated as adults, who more identity with a generation like "Dankai" or "Sirake." My experiences with Latinos older than me... I've never actually asked if the generational labels are even the same.

The thing about that is that when the name is the same, it means enough cultural traits are shared.

My biggest experience with people who grew up under the term "Boomer" are Black and white.

I've noticed a unifying trait.

If they're something oppressed (Black, gay), their attitude tends to be"it is mandatory to stand up for *my* demograph...but kicking the person behind me on the ladder in the teeth is wholesome, pure, and fun."

Outing me to large groups and saying I "speak Asian" seem to be the most common two. Calling me "Chinese" long after I've cleared this up for them is a close third.

I mean, don't get me wrong--my experience with Italian Americans past GI generation has been that now acquiring the "white" label, just like biphobic/aphobic/transphobic cisgays, they're more often staunch priveledge defenders than cishet people of Anglo descent! And it's just as true for X and Y as it is for Boomer (for the latter, one need only look at NYC destroyer and trump defender Giuliani) I actually don't really identify with my Italian side at all because I was kinda locked out of making any meaningful connection.

But back to my point that even in so-leftist-it's-almost-not-America Bay Area, Boomers are still like this!

The kind of stuff that flows out a X/Y TERF's mouth, or the mouth of an X/Y person with a Confederate flag on his wall, American-raised Boomers say with ease regardless of their alignment! It's banananas.

(Please note that I also just have not met a whole lot of Native Americans, period, nor enough people significantly older than me from any one place in Africa, that was an omission of lacking data, not intended as erasure)

How I tie it to Ichigo--

So Kubo avoids specifying birth years for anyone.

When I see something like this, I generally assume date of publication, as do most people in most fandoms (which of course gets screwy when you have something endlessly rebooted like Superman or Batman or something eternally unchanging like Detective Conan)

Anyway, the first Bleach something published was the comic in '01.

I generally assume it was supposed to be the start of a new school year, as Ichigo doesn't know many of his classmates until at least the first test scores come out. So it's probably April or something.

If Ichigo was 15 then, he'd also be Post Dankai Juniors, just barely. If Ichigo TURNED 15 shortly after, during his adventure, he'd be undebatably Millennial.

Now, there is still something up with Dankai and Sirake. PM Abe is the latter, b. 1954. A lot of his age-peers are behind him. This is the guy who supports remilitarisation and was caught funding a private militarist/fascist high(?) school that teaches that people from countries Japan conquered during its brief phase of trying to beat colonial Europe are less than dogs.

Now, I left there as a teen. Clinton was US president. Scandals still got people kicked out of public office in Japan. I hadn't figured or come out yet. Sure, I got bullied for being mixed, but kids will pick if you like different singers than the "cool" ones. They'll pick based on what's in your lunch. That data is sausage.

I'm not 100% sure what Ichigo would face day-to-day sociopolitically as he grew up/aged. I haven't had living family since'95 there, and friendships don't get deep enough to ever last distance until at least high school. For me, adulthood.

But I've kept/caught up enough (you try keeping up in the South before the internet was more than ten University sites!) that I know he'd face fascists (c'mon, the guy takes on a martial law government to save a new friend--that's anarchist, he just doesn't seem anarchist in his own world. He only fights humans in defence) I'm not sure how he'd feel about the JSDF, but he only fought the sinigami's war out of feeling like it was his responsibility because the adults around him kinda made it so. I super don't see him being for *starting* wars. In a human war, I see him actually being like Sugihara Chiune, a historical figure who died when I was a kid who I majorly admire. He worked at a Japanese embassy in Nazi territory, and when the embassy was evacuated,he continued throwing passports to Jewish people to go to Japan from the train he was departing on,and is hidden from Americans in the same spirit that Martin Luther King is...pulled the teeth out of. (PS, speaking of,go Google Steven Kiyosi Kuromiya)

Also, Ichigo's whole schtick is defending those worse off than him. He's not someone I see defending Yamato Japanese priveledge. Heck, I could see him joining Uchinanchu efforts to get Parliament and the US base to leave them alone. I can easily see him sticking up for a Filipino domestic worker he met thirty seconds ago.

To this end, I think regardless of what he is, he'd have a large rub with Japan's equivalents of Boomers.

Not to mention that Abe supporters tend to be very sexist and queerphobic, which isn't even homegrown but imported from Américanisation. I mean, there were female warriors--assasins, which is what Yoruichi and Soi-Fon are styled after, and go look at some Ukiyoe, like Utagawa Kitamaro. Quite a few artists in the 200-ish years of the Edo period depicted life in the queer districts. I've also had people posit that Noh might've been a welcoming draw for trans people the same way drag was all over the US in the twentieth century and still is in rural areas, where there's less cisgay gatekeeping. But this isn't something I can reasonably research without access to plenty of older and not well known dusty documents, and lots of time, and I live in the US many years now. And do you know how much round trip airfare alone is!? Also, the language changed so much and I can't read anything before Meiji without dropping words. Rukia, Byakuya, Yoruichi all have made for TV old-sounding Japanese like period dramas. Actual 18th Century Japanese would be unintelligible to the unspecialised.

So this stuff isn't really native, but Abe and a lot of people his age support all these -isms.

I super don't see Ichigo being happy about this.

(I also feel like Issin's old enough to remember before these -isms, but that's my own thing. In my project, he was in those districts, but that's me)

At the same time, I'm still writing this through my own lens. Also, not still being there, I just don't have enough data on Yutori in adulthood, or the grown Yutori lens. Honestly, even most other immigrants I meet are older than that. Or older than that and their adorable three year old children. So I have no clue.

In the early 2000s, I got myself from the South to CA and began to reconnect, but began to is the key phrase. I can tell you right now that Abe is as much of a second phase of Nakasone as trump is of Nakasone's buddy Regean. But what shifted when, I can't say. I'm not entirely sure how Koizumi ran the ship, as it were. I know some things, but not enough to say.

But whenever things shifted however, and whichever year Ichigo was born, I just cannot imagine him being any more on board with current events than really anyone in my area not born between 1946-1964 and raised in America.

I feel like he'd probably be too tired or self-effacing to fight for himself, but he'd take on, loud and proud, any bigotry against *others.*

I...also can't really say I'm much different, except my joints are held together by the power of wishes, so I'm more like "get the victim to safety" than "give the attacker plenty of regret." So, I can only do anything in limited ways.

Ichigo is also entirely fuelled by the power of love. Lost his ability to protect and feels like his sinigami friends ditched him? Mondo depressed, however much he wants no one to notice--which most do a great job of ignoring! Everyone in his world turned against him for a guy who has attacked people close to him? Terrified, and murder can now be an answer. (Fullbring Arc)

I was going somewhere with that. I've forgotten, but I'll leave it.

But anyway, I feel like he really only comes close to fighting for himself when others are taken away from him in a way that's also wronging them.

So yeah, I super don't see him happy with current events or Sirake gen.

I'm not sure how much I see him fighting for himself as mixed panromantic grey-ace. I mean, we know he fights people who are about to punch his face in for his looks, but what else can you reasonably do at that point? Get your head bashed in? I'm not sure how much I see him fighting hateful words pointed at him versus resigning himself to "people are the worst." I mean, when he talks about being picked on, he kinda seems resigned, or at least like it's a fact, like shoes being for outside or something.

I guess I tied it to Ichigo a lot better than I thought!

But also, the struggle against people born just after the war is not just you, and not just America. It's a major problem.

And it's likely that Ichigo would agree.

#out of body #musings #baby boomers #generation x #millennials #Japanese generations #Japanese politics #queerphobia #colonialism #moritomo gakuen scandal #sugihara chiune #japanese history #yoruichi shihouin #edo period

[migleefulmoments]

One of my fave Disney Princess stories is how she often implied that one of her 3 male LGBTQ+ actor ROOMMATES in LA is Oliver Stark. She said her roomie was a regular on 9-1-1 (dating back to s1) who was in every episode, was young (25-35), hot and unmarried. Oliver is the only guy that meets her stated criteria. Since she also said 2/3 of her LGBTQ+ roomies are closeted (and the 3rd is out), what's she implying about Oliver? Who outs close friends? It'd be horrifying, if it wasn't ALL LIES.

I’m just looking through some posts and found a bunch referring to her roommates as “L” and “A” -no mention of the 3rd one but I know she has claimed 3 in the past. I found this post about “L” calling her baby and clearly flirting so IDK what she is claiming with this. 

She says she is staying in the mansion of the wealthy roommate so here we have mention of the hot gardener (as an aside, how many WalMart and Sam’s club stores are there in 90210-ok I looked the nearest Sam’s club is almost 40 actual miles which in LA is 3000 miles; WalMart is only 10 miles. I used “90210″ so super generic and I’m not sure that is where she claimed she lived- but the rich dude who owns the huge home and drives a BMW SUV he freely let’s random model/actor/influencers use isn’t driving 40 miles to Sam’s Club to save on chicken salad.) 

La chronicles: I was tricked.

L: baby, I’m running to the store, wanna go?

Me: nope I’m staying here and salivate over this fan fiction and the gardener…. Whichever goes shirtless first.

A: *barks out a laugh* don’t molest the gardener.

Me: who me?

L: come on baby..

Me: noooooo. Sex and intrigue.

A: *Snorts*

L: I’m going to that little organic place you love…..

Me: chicken salad????? With the sprouts.?????

L: yep yep.

Me: okay!!.

A: have fun

Me: *running out the door shouts back* tell me if he gets nnnneeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkiiiiidddddddddd

L: BABY!!!

Me: what? He knows he is hot….

………….……….……..

(Thirty minutes later.)

Me: the fuck is this?

L: I said I needed to go to the store….

Me: no oo you said organic grocery…

L: yeah and I’ll get your chicken salad after we stock up.

Me…………..

Me……….

Me: but that’s sams

L: pretty and brains

Me: but but ….. only place worse to be on Saturday is hell mart!!!! I don’t wanna go in there..its gonna take forever

L: suck it up buttercup

Me: I was fucking tricked.

L: lead by the tummy…….

More about “L” who is apparently famous enough to have fanfiction about himself which he can readily find.  .  

Watching Nomie

Youd be surprised who visits tumble land.

L loves reading fan fiction about himself (he says he gets more game online than he ever does in real life) and tumbler. 😂🤣🤣😂😂😂. He has a ridiculous fascination sharing gifs of himself. he’s a goober. They crack him up.

Below is her post about how she was bearding and had to hide “A” -is he her  boyfriend of husband now she is hiding him along with her kids. Her kids were never living in CA that I ever read.  They were in South Carolina she occasionally talked about being separated from her teenage kids but that it was her time now and her career was important. She would write about being in LA most of the time-cryptic parties and work posts- and going back and forth to SC though she rarely posted from SC- except during one of the hurricanes.

Anonymous asked:

Hmmm ok I'm slightly intrigued maybe u do get it But most probably you don't Have you ever given up and gave away something you shouldn't have because you thought it was for the best and that guilt just fucking eats away at you every day I have lied to everyone even my family to hide something I didn't even know about The work was more important and I would have sold my soul to get what I wanted I just don't know now if any of it was worth it and tbh I don't think the big guys even think it

answered: Yeah.

I had to hide my kids for two years when I first got back heavily into modeling and switching back to acting. Was also bearding. Because I look so much younger than I am, they were afraid it would show negatively work wise. Also they didnt want questions about A and the minis. (I’m still cast as characters ten years younger than the actress that usually plays my mother. Its the cheeks and the voice).

One day I fucked up and mentioned my kids and it got in print when they were talking about fashion week. A was cool about it. But it resulted in a huge move for the minis and the whole family had to adjust. Mine and his.

There are other times I purposely fuck up. Because you just get sick of juggling. Other times its an honest mistake and then you deal with the shit and move on.

So now she and “A” have minis (kids) and they had to move. I’m not sure what the hell she is trying to spin here but clearly he isn’t the platonic roommate hanging out in LA. 

I found posts tonight where she claimed she has two friends in Hollywood who are gay and came out and one friend who slammed the closet door so hard it shook after he got an important role. 

I had no idea about Oliver- good sleuthing. 

She claims she’s pan and that gives her permission to say rude and misogynistic things 

Anonymous asked:

Who is gonna tell Darr/en he looks like M/ia's "best gay" in most of the pictures of them together where they are supposed to look in love? Especially the ones from last night lol

Just ya typical queer (I’m pan so imma say that). With his beardy.

Or hag. Whatever term ya wanna use.(X)

She HATED MIa...called her Amelia and wrote incredibly offensive-downright hateful-posts about Mia under the pseudonym The Ghost- who just happened to call her Amelia. Anons would ask Disneyprincess question for The Ghost and Disney would either answer them on The Ghosts behalf or claim she would relay the message/ask The Ghost. Yeah right. She even wrote fanfiction under that pseudonym. It was super bad -sentence structure, plot development, and character development were all grossly missing. It was basically BWP (bullying without plot). The stories are gone now- I have scoured the web looking for them.  I could kick myself for not saving some of them...if anyone has one, I'd love to see it.  The plot line of one was Mia ordering Darren around her office telling him she had complete control over him while he coward in front of her.  Darren meekly declared he would win in the end, but Mia just kept ordering him around. 

These are kinds of posts who would make about Hollywood -keep in mind there was nothing before this post that make it understandable- I'm not exaggerating when I say this was typical: 

Nomie party

You did????? When? Was I annoyingly perky or in professional mode??

That’s freaking awesome. We must have lunch.

Didn’t post the ask cause that was too many details on that party. 😂😂 already been in trouble thanks.

Glad I’m not the only one that thought he is an ass.

Anonymous asked: (X)

When did you see them out? Details

Can’t really say where I was as it included what I was doing and with whom. But it was here after the first of the year

I already posted this but it bears repeating- she, like Abby, won’t give away all their secrets aka they won’t give specifics (X)

Anonymous asked: 

there is evidence of Wll and aash kissing in the clubbbb?!!!!!!!

That I can’t tell you. I know I’ve never taken a picture cause why would I? but I mean folks do snap pictures when folks are out and folks get things in background photos that people prefer not be seen publicly.

However I will say if you do some digging, there are a lot more cuddled up w/a pictures out there. One just needs to have the time and be invested enough to look.

[pressedonjess]

act 1 scene 1

In small towns you should be mindful of what you could become known for. If you want to become known for anything at all, that is. It’ll definitely happen if you want it to. It’ll probably happen if you don’t. Did you slip in the rain one time while running for the bus? Congrats, now every time you go outside in the rain, someone is going to yell ‘Watch your step!’ or ‘Hey, be careful now!’ with that annoyingly cheerful smile, maybe the odd finger gun. Of course, small townsfolk can have a selective memory when it comes to what they know about you, or at least what they’ll shout at you in the street. Have a month’s-long torrid affair with the neighbor’s husband, completely wreck two families and end up living in the one motel in town for weeks? They’ll all remember, but the judgemental looks will stop after a year or so has gone by. God forbid you ever fall flat on your ass in public though.

Jesse Preston was a torrid love affair and a slapstick public fall wrapped into one.

Or at least she felt that way. Ever since sophomore year before her first day at a new school, where the kids her age had grown up with one another since pre-k. Penelope Preston had sat her daughter down that Sunday night before school, told her

‘Everyone’s gonna be watching. Doesn’t matter whether you stick with the crowd or cartwheel down the hall. They’re gonna see you either way. But you get to choose what they see.’

Penny Preston was cheesy as hell, but she’d never been one of those stage moms you see on Toddlers and Tiaras or whatever. Penny always encouraged her children to be themselves and to be loud about it. Both of her kids were super queer to some degree, and she had provided them with an environment where there hadn’t been a need for a nerve-wracking ‘coming out’ event. They just were. Mika Preston blamed the regular viewings of Rent for their gayness.

Of course, fifteen-year-old Jesse Preston chose to ‘cartwheel’. Terrified though she may have been, Jesse let her blonde curls go as big as they wanted, stole her brother’s star-shaped pink-tinted sunglasses and her mom’s fur lined coat and strutted down the hall to first period on that Monday morning, channelling her inner Penny Lane from Almost Famous and Maureen from Rent rolled into one. Over the months, drama club followed, as did afterschool art class, volleyball, and marching band. The youngest Preston had many items on the list titled: Things to be Thankful to Mom For. Somewhere near the top would be a thank you for not moving with her two queer kids to one of the many small towns that are outrageously homophobic and racist, because Jess sure did exercise her rights as a young queer woman. Or at least she tried to.

From reasonably early on Jesse knew she was pretty in the conventional sense. She had the blonde hair, blue eyes and legs for days going for her. When she hit sixteen and junior year, her new kid in school novelty had long since worn off but the nervous interactions and glances didn’t stop. Only problem was, she didn’t know what to do with it at first. 

She’d always been a smooth talker. Talked her way out of a speeding ticket that one time when her flight touched down late and she didn’t want to miss the town’s new year fireworks display. Schmoozed her way into the leading role of the high school production of The Twelfth Night so she could ‘rehearse’ with the girl playing Olivia. But the moment someone reciprocated – who wasn’t acting opposite her – Jesse Preston the confident wannabe leading lady turned into a blushing stuttering mess. It led to rumors of her liking girls but no one being completely sure, because there’d never been a relationship for the students to see and gayness to quantify. So all the boys bar the extremely confident one or two stayed away, and the girls… everything with the girls happened under bleachers or in dark unused rehearsal rooms.

Ten years later, after burlesque classes, several stage productions under her belt and now a debut album… it was more or less the same deal, only the stakes were different. There had been dates, which sometimes led to making out, one time led to a relationship. Nothing that lasted.

These days Preston had all the outward confidence of a woman who knew what she wanted and was good at getting it. In reality, she was the woman who needed a shot of Dutch courage in most high-stakes social situations, and even before the one thing she was best at and supposed to be most comfortable doing: being on stage. An extrovert bordering on exhibitionist who also happened to have stage fright? Typical.

So Jesse deployed an artistic approach to the armor she wore. An application of richly pigmented pink or red powder along her cheekbones and up toward her temples meant that girls could go ahead and make her blush. The bright colors and statement fashion choices meant that the attention she invited was hers to command. Even in a room full of people, most of which she didn’t know but who knew her Preston could feel the nerves pulling at the base of her spine.

She hadn’t been home for an extended length of time in around a year and a half. She was in the process of making a name for herself, so now that was what the town knew her for. Not little Jesse Preston the new girl, the theater kid, the enthusiastic volleyball player. Now she was a singer. Now there were expectations. All the thirty-somethings in town had heard her voice on Grey’s Anatomy, for shit’s sake. There was no turning back now… but she kind of had.

It was the wedding of some local high school sweethearts. She had been roped in by her friend Benji, one of the groomsmen who’d offered his services as ‘behind the scenes’ wedding photographer and hers as the wedding singer. She’d done her part, finished her set about an hour ago, providing her voice for the first dance. It had been an honour, she supposed. Most people settled for the DJ, they had asked for her to sing ‘their’ song live, the one that meant something to their love and the one they wanted to remember dancing to as a newly married couple for the rest of their lives.

Benji approached her as she leaned back against the bar, almost done with her second cosmopolitan but nowhere near finished her perusal of wedding guests on the dancefloor, or sat at the tables surrounding it.

“Are you gonna?” He reclined on his elbow next to her.

With her finger pressed absently to her chin, Preston angled her head towards him, not peeling her eyes from anything in particular. “Hm? Gonna what?”

Benji stepped in closer to her, she could feel his springy curls push against her cheek as he directed her gaze to where he must have assumed she had been looking already. Following his finger, she immediately found who he meant.

“Subtle.” Preston pushed Benji’s arm back to his side. It was hard to get a good look at the woman from the bar. Every now and again a dancing body would get in the way, or the light would hit her a certain way that would obscure her features. Preston couldn’t tell whether her hair was purple or blue. When the reds of the lights hit her, her hair shone almost metallic grey. It was a wonder Preston hadn’t noticed her first. Alas, Benji had. “Please,” she gestured with her glass, “by all means.”

“Oh, no no, no,” he immediately contradicted her, encouraging her to face him with a tug on her elbow. “Why do you think I called you?”

Preston complied, turning to lean forwards against the bar now, making sure the surface was dry where she folded her arms on the counter. “To hear me sing Sara Bareilles songs?”

“To be my wingman, man,” he corrected. His eyes shifted from Preston to the mystery-colored-hair woman and back. “Reel her in for me.”

Preston scrunched her face in response to the term, “Ew, she’s not a fish,” chancing a look over her shoulder. She couldn’t see what the woman was drinking, or even tell if she was with the people at her table or just occupying a chair. Nevertheless, she waved the bartender down and gestured at her near empty glass for another with a smile.

“Mm,” she conceded around her glass, finishing the last mouthful. “You obviously need the help. As if you don’t owe me enough already, Benjamin.” She smoothed down the fabric of her jumpsuit, making sure the tit-tape was still doing its job in keeping the edges of the low cut ‘V’ in place. The more modest dress she’d donned for the earlier part of the reception had been abandoned the moment she’d finished her set and the party was in full swing. “Alright,” she breathed, “The things I do for you.”

“Wait,” he caught her arm again, reaching up to fix something in her hair. She’d pinned it up since the performance, shoved three of the red roses from the centerpiece of the tables into her hair to make a head wreath. Matched her cheeks. “One of your flowers was coming out. There.”

“Aw,” she patted his cheek, “Might be hope for you yet. I’ll be back,” she gave herself a quick once over in the mirrored back wall of the bar, catching herself between the bottles and glasses. “Get a drink, stay there, look mysterious and aloof, but approachable.”

“You do know aloof literally means unapproachable, right?”

Preston waved him off over her shoulder to begin carefully meandering through the dancefloor towards the woman, expertly keeping her full glass from spilling. Once she was a few paces from her target, Preston glanced about to make sure she wouldn’t be interrupting something already in progress when she made her entrance, but she didn’t much care if she was.

Pulling up an empty chair into the space beside the woman, Preston first sat her glass on the table between them - close enough to the woman that it could be seen as an offering, but still within reach in case she didn’t want it, or in case one of the glasses of varying levels already on the table was hers.

“Hi,” Preston regarded the woman, injecting as much charm into her red-lipped smile as she could muster. Resting her elbow on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, she inquired “Are you single? Are you single at this wedding? Wow,” She sat up straight, let the hand that was supporting her head fall to the table. “That totally sounded like I’m trying to sell you something. Hi,” she took a breath, offering her hand to the woman as she started over. “I’m Jesse Preston, and this is my attempt to wingman for my friend over at the bar there. I’m usually better at this."

[doodleimprovement]

Antonia’s Fan Fiction Masterlist

~~~THE AO3 ADDITION~~~

All of the Fics I've written and posted on AO3 as of 1/12/2019

Undertale 

Tuffet Tales: (Abandoned Series) 

Home From Grillbyz (2015)

Sans gets Drunk, OC gets them home? Being drunk kind of sucks but it gets the weight off your chest 

 Afternoon Coffee (2015)

A thank you trip to a coffee shop backfires on Pap, but talking helps 

No Suplexing on the Premises (2015) 

Working out with Undyne is almost always a good time, but the aftermath is nice

GB Skelefrisk (Abandoned Series)

You’ll Be Fine, Babybones (2016)

A Requested Fic, Enjoy! 

We’re Here, and I’m So Sorry (2016)

It had been such a good day, but bad things happen when Gaster is bored in the void

Along Came A Spider (Complete Multi-Chapter Fic - 2016)

Tuffet the spider - having recently been kicked out of her home because Spider Tradition- just started living on her own, and takes in two seemingly lost shape shifting skeletons after she comes home to them crashing on her couch. She knows they're keeping secrets, and they know the same about her, but when you only have each other, some trust has to build, right? 

Along Came A Spider (Rewrite - In Progress - Multi Chapter - Updated 2019)

When 12 year old Tuffet is thrown out of her house due to some ridiculous Spider Tradition, she takes to living on her own without much fuss. But how will she handle her new, independent life when two shape shifters just kinda... take up her couch? She lets them in with open arms, but they seem hesitant. They're clearly hiding things, but living under one roof, some trust has to build... right?

Please, Don’t Forget (2016)

Revenge... it felt like such a good idea at the time... But now.... 

Returning (Home) (2019)

The aftermath of the neutral pacifist run.... Or is it? 

Coco

Watchful Eyes (2018)

or "I have to watch my ex husband be a good dad and it kind of gets under my metaphorical skin" 

One Good Try (2018)

Miguel is loosing sleep and gaining anxiety in the wake of his day in the land of the dead, with one question always at the edge of his thoughts

         "What if he didn't make it?"

          He had to find out. He had to try

Marvel

Nell and the Company She Keeps (Incomplete Series) 

Annabella Gracia Buonacci is a queer nurse living in Queens who gets embroiled in the cacophony of drama and ridiculousness that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

A series of One-shots, Ficlets and Regular ol' fics surrounding my shameless Self-insert OC in the MCU, starting around Homecoming and up to Avengers: Infinity War. Can and will be out of order.

All That’s Left (2018)

Thor is left to take stock of all that’s left of his people, his friends, his pride and his guilt.Nell is unfortunately a keen observer

Aftermath of Prayer (2018)

[...] in those final days in Wakanda, where she waiting with bated breath for the end of the world, she prayed. She practically begged whatever god existed to please, please, bring them back. Bring them all back. And well… it had been close enough.

Hard To Describe (2019)

Original title: "Nell's Super Weird Relationship With Tony Stark" Or "Nina writes an extremely self indulgent fanfic where Tony Stark befriends her and validates her life choices". I am expecting no one to read this, honestly.

The Dragon of the MCU (Incomplete Series)

A series of one shots, Plot Summaries and ficlets having to do with my OC Insert into the MCU.

Abandoned (2019)

Jose hadn’t known what to expect when two of the most important adults in his life were fighting in an abandoned Siberian bunker. He just knew the fighting had to stop. He didn’t want to take sides. He never meant to pick a side. But he did. When he quite literally turned his back on Captain America, that was seen as his choice. By the time he heard the clattering of the shield and turned his head, Steve was gone with his friend, and they were alone... Abandoned

Still Here (2019)

Jose is back from Asgard, but whether or not he's ready to engage with actually being a teenage on earth is another story... or "Tony has no idea how to parent but he'll give it a shot"

And You Got Us Feeling Alright (2019)

Jose didn't mean for his piano playing to become something so few people knew.. Didn't mean for it to become precious to him.. To become his outlet. But things just happen like that, sometimes

Just Another Wednesday (Complete Multi-Chapter Fic - 2018)

When a bizarre being wants Stephen's cloak, it decides to use Peter to get to him - what no one is expecting is for this cuckoo bird to do.... whatever the hell it is he did. Now Stephen has to both rescue Peter, and reverse a spell. . . What a wednesday

More Than a Little Secret (Incomplete - Multi Chapter - Updated 2019)

Howard did a lot more than shame Tony for not being as good as Captain America. In fact, he was so obsessed with the idea that he developed a (rather problematic) version of the super serum and injected Tony with it. Tony hates it. So he’s become almost perfect at hiding its effects… Almost being the key word there. Prompt taken from the excellent Tumblr Blog: @tonystarkismyprompt

Fracture (Incomplete - Multi Chapter - Updated 2019)

Just as things come together, they fall apart - that's just how Peter Parker's life has always been. The ever famous "Parker Luck". He didn't think fate would decide to test it like this ((Winter Solider Tony AU, Beta-Read by Tumblr User @littlescarletstar ))

So, That’s What it Looks Like (2018)

Nebula and Tony Stark are alone on Titan. Tony is trying to process the loss. Nebula is trying to understand why the last one had to go the way he did.

Asking For Help, If You Need It (2018)

Happy had told him that the number was life or death. To never call unless the situation was dire. He called

Making A Show Of It (2018)

All Peter wanted was proof of his internship to shut up some rumors at school. Tony Stark has ... plans

101.9 (2018)

A Prompt from Ironmanstan on Tumblr where they recommended that Tony would use Bucky's cool metal arm to chill himself from a fever.... WinterIron with a smattering of Irondad and Spiderson

Hey, You’re Fine Kid (2019)

A fight with the Rhino leaves Peter with a nasty scar he can't really stand, but maybe all he needed was a chat with everyone's favorite wizard

Only Just Realized (2019)

Stephen has made fast friends with everyone's favorite web-slinger. Maybe a little more than that..-- Mostly a stream of thought fic with Stephen realizing how much he cares about Peter

Detroit: Become Human

Like Mother, Like Son, In a Way (Incomplete Series)

Familial Visit...? (2018)

Hank is both intrigued and confused when Connor mentions that he has to visit his "Mother". The visit garners more questions than answers, however

Those Portuguese Curls (2018)

Hank gets to see those curls Genoviva mentioned

T r a u m a t i z e d (2018)

Hank knows that when a kid freaks out, the best person for him is his mother. . . That and maybe he can learn a little more.... He learns more than he could have wanted, honestly

Hubris (2018)

Genoviva thinks she can keep Connor safe... But it's her care that may be putting him in danger

Alternate Deviancy (2018)

Hank should have been there when Connor went Deviant.. so I wrote that

#masterpost #antonia writes #ao3 masterpost

[i-want-it-all-or-nothing-at-all]

Since premiering in June, the second season of Netflix’s Queer Eye reboot has sparked critical acclaim (and renewed questions over what, if anything, we should expect from the Fab Five beyond makeovers and tear-jerker moments). Yet the new season has also sparked conversations within the trans community, questioning the show’s framing and treatment of Skyler Jay, the transmasculine subject of episode five, “Sky’s The Limit.”

While some critics reacted positively to the episode, many trans viewers saw it in mixed terms; some who have voiced criticism of the episode felt its discussion of the trans experience was very “Trans 101,” and some felt Skyler was othered by the Fab Five for things that seem very essential to his transness — like his Pride-themed décor, his affinity for youthful male attire, or by focusing on his top surgery in an invasive and clinical way.

As a trans man, I wanted to discuss concerns that have arisen within the community about the episode with Skyler himself. Below, Skyler tells them. his thoughts on the controversy, expands on experiences during filming that audiences didn’t get to see, and explains hopes that the Queer Eye episode can stand as just one stepping stone toward stories in the media where trans people are “just celebrated.”

First, I wanted to get your take on what your life has been like since the show. I’m curious to know how life has changed for you.

It’s been almost a year since we did the original filming for the show and when I had my initial surgery, which was aired in the episode. I’ve had some procedures since then as well. So really, between filming and the show airing, my life has been focused on paying for those additional surgery costs and recovering. I just got off my medical restrictions yesterday, so a good portion of my year has been spent healing.

Some have critiqued the episode for being too clinical, or feeling like the Fab Five were “othering” you. How would you respond to those critiques?

One of the things that makes me saddest about what viewers get to see is that you see so little. It makes me so sad for the world, because the questions I keep getting asked are “Are these guys really that nice? Are they really that awesome?” My response is always “No. They’re even better than what you get to see on TV.” We spent a week and then some filming, they crush it into less than an hour, and there’s so much that’s left out.

Did any of your experiences with cast members stand out in terms of their experience with trans people prior to the show?

Bobby and Karamo were actually very informed on the trans experience. I know people have come at Bobby for the “transgendered” comment at the beginning of my episode, and I re-watched and re-listened, and I really honestly can’t decipher whether he said “transgender” or “transgendered.” I know the subtitles say “transgendered,” but also, the subtitles in general in the episode are really off-kilter — they called my cat “Roma” instead of “Robot,” they spelled things incorrectly… and I know that’s something Karamo is bringing up to the Netflix people now, to rectify the kinks so people who are deaf and hard of hearing aren’t having these compromised viewing experiences. I don’t know whether that was a slip on Bobby’s part, but he and Karamo were both really informed. So was Jonathan.

Really, it was Tan and Antoni who hadn’t had a whole lot of experience with transgender individuals. I really wish this one line would have made it into the show, because it’s something I say to every person I interact with who says “you’re the first trans person I’ve met.” I always come back with, “that you know of.” And then I always explain that I may be the first openly trans person they’ve met, but we’re everywhere. To watch both Tan and Antoni’s — and many, many, many other people’s — eyes… it’s like their brain explodes for a second. They go “uh, what?” and then their whole perception of reality and how they perceive those around them shifts. I wish that had made it in there, because I know Tan has gotten a lot of flack. I felt like that entire week, I spent it with my community, with my brothers. I feel like I’m a part of this really beautiful thing.

I think people feel like I was being studied because I was educating [the Fab Five during filming]. That is how I do my work. That gift was given to me by another visible, open, activist trans man who saved my life and helped me figure myself out. So of course, I took full power knowing that the show was going to be targeted at middle-America housewives, because that’s what the first season was geared toward. I was like — “Cool, I’m going to teach some middle-America housewife moms how to care for their transgender kids when they come out by being open and understanding their kids better.”

Knowing what you did about the target audience, was the “Trans 101” approach with the Fab 5 and the show on purpose?

I would say yes, but I went Trans 101 — and then went into extra-advanced trans education with the guys and the cast and crew. I think it’s just how editing made it come out. That conversation Tan and I had was about two hours on the couch. We talked about pronouns, we talked about the different transitions that trans men and trans women can go through, we talked about non-binary and genderqueer individuals, and people of color in my community who are trans and nonbinary and the additional difficulties they face. We also talked about Russia and Jamaica and how trans people that live in those countries have refugee programs directed to them, because they could get murdered and dragged in the streets. We got really, really deep.

There’s a distinct cut in that conversation with Tan and I where he’s very composed — he’s really composed all the time — and then after I laid some really deep knowledge on him, he was crying. He did come from a very sheltered upbringing and his getting into the queer community basically started with this show. So I don’t blame him for his lack of knowledge. Instead, I very much thank him for his willingness to seek out that knowledge through me, from someone who is willing to teach.

My goal was to make him so motivated that he would go forward and be a megaphone to help our community. That’s what we need — not just trans folks standing up, we need other people to have some bit of knowledge on even a basic level of what kind of issues we face. I wish the show could be two hours. But I’m really proud of the outreach they’re already doing with trans youth. I hope that they can carry it forward and continue to help out other trans individuals in the future.

Have you kept in contact with the Fab 5?

Bobby and I are actually close and talk quite a bit. Through my second surgery, I was having issues with a caretaker not being able to come, and I freaked out and was crying and I called Bobby. He started contacting friends in the area to try to figure out what he could do — all the way from Asia, where he was at the time — to help me out because I was freaking out.

So, yes we still keep in contact, and I’m really attached to these guys. I also hope that I continue to see Queer Eye and Netflix in general produce content with visible trans people that aren’t demonized, or othered, and are just celebrated. I feel like that’s what they did with my episode and I’m really thankful for that.

What’s next for Skyler Jay?

I’ve been preparing for a lawsuit I’m currently in against the University system for the state of Georgia to get them to remove their trans healthcare exclusion, which is a big deal for the community. I also went back to school in May to finish my undergraduate degrees, and I’m in the middle of my classes and trying to do my day job as well. And now this new additional job of managing the love and support — and also the sheer outcry from the community of people reaching out looking for resources, seeking validation and seeking help, or reaching out to say thank you — it’s been really overwhelming, honestly. But in the best ways. I feel super honored and blessed that Queer Eye has gifted me this level-up in platform beyond just the cool stuff that you guys got to see on the show.

#queer eye #Sky’s The Limit #skyler jay

[author-ashlynn-james]

The black Siren

Y’all like queer superheroes? Check under the cut! 

"So, ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pride and confidence that we step down and leave the fate of this great city in the most capable of hands."

Oh god, was anyone actually buying this? A sarcastic laugh found its way from Jillian's throat as she watched the moronic, little lemmings on the static-y security screen get to their feet to applaud this douche. God, and people wondered what was wrong with this city.

She squinted through her black mask to watch the ridiculously costumed ninnies stumble across the stage to receive the symbolic key to the city. So... these two were really her sworn enemies' children? Their parents were a pain in the ass but they at least offered some amount of a challenge. But these two? Man, she may have to get a real job just to stay entertained. These kids did not look ready to take on the Crusaders' responsibility. The new Crusade Man seemed eager enough but clearly lacked his father's discipline. He stood there waving enthusiastically at the audience in his tacky, red jumpsuit as if he were the brightest star in the universe.

Then there was the other one, the replacement for Crusader Girl. Man... this poor baby barely even cut it as a sidekick. She obviously did not appreciate being in the limelight. Even on the low-quality screen Jillian could see her knees knocking. She didn't even seem to have full control over her powers yet. Her legs kept fading from sight, sometimes disappearing from view all together. Poor girl. The mere thought of kicking her ass almost made Jillian feel bad. Almost.

The new Crusade Man sauntered up to the podium, his father stepping aside to allow him access to the microphone. Jillian leaned in closer, squinting at the screen.

"What is up, my fair city?!"

Oh god, she'd heard enough. She didn't have the stomach for this shit. With a shake of her head, she pushed to her feet. Even on the tiny screen, she could see the audience fidgeting. They didn't have any more confidence in these kids than she did. She almost thought it would be more villainous to let the baby keep talking. That, and she wanted to check her phone.

She squatted down to rummage through the backpack she'd left on the security room floor and extracted her flip phone. Looked like she had a new message.

NEW TXT FROM ELLIE

Jillian smiled. She'd met this women on a dating website nearly three months ago and they'd really hit it off. It was strange really; Ellie wasn't her usual type. Aside from being nice and having no apparent fear of commitment, Ellie was a legacy brat. She spent most of her time training to take over her family's business. That would normally be a huge turn off for Jillian but she also spent so much of her free time volunteering that Jillian was willing to overlook it. It was hard to call someone who spent every summer in South America fitting people with hearing aids—a project Ellie felt passionately about given her own profound deafness—entitled. Due to scheduling conflicts, their daily conversations had been restricted to texts.

We still on for tonight?

Until now. They were meeting right after work and good god she couldn't wait. Jillian hadn't been on a date in thirty-six months (but who was counting?) and the guy hadn't exactly been Prince Charming. She had the worst luck with romance but maybe this woman would change that. Grinning, she typed out a reply.

Definitely.

With a deep breath, she put her phone away, and got to her feet, slipping her backpack on over her black, spandex uniform. Time for work. She pressed a finger to the intercom button, replacing the chattering of the super idiot with a static-y groan. The hundreds of heads watching the stage in the auditorium glanced around in confusion. She had their attention.

"Interesting boy you've raised there, Crusade Idiot," she commented lightly. Several pairs of hands in the audience went up to cover their ears as her voice boomed throughout the building. Even beneath the mask, Jillian saw the panic pass over Podium Boy's face as she read her work name on the father's lips.

Black Siren.

"Glad we've gotten to know each other so well," she simpered. And that would be the last thing they remembered. She opened her mouth and began to sing, a strong, high note washing over the museum. The eyes of her enemies glazed over, transfixed as the Siren's Song engulfed them. Everyone in the area froze, waiting to answer her call. She held the note for as long as she could, ensuring she had the undivided attention of all present. When she finally stopped to take a breath, she was met with absolute silence, her audience waiting to bend to her will. Her demands were innocent enough today.

"You will not move," she said slowly and clearly into the intercom. "You will remain absolutely still until I have left the premises. Anyone present who may have seen me before I put on my mask will forget my face. You will destroy any remaining security footage the moment I leave the premises."

The intercom screeched as she moved her finger from the button, eyes watching the monitors before her for any signs of movement. Nothing. Everyone remained still, slaves to her song.

Jillian pulled open the control room door and jogged down the hallway. She reached the stairs and ran down them two at a time until she came to the door she needed and pushed it open to peek inside. The third floor appeared deserted, save for a guard across the room, staring aimlessly ahead. This was why she'd decided to come during the ceremony: not only did the family of heroes provide the perfect distraction; they were also far too arrogant to put any extra security measures in place. They were all the protecting the city needed! Idiots.

She strode in, eyes falling on the glass case in the center of the room. Damn. She'd expected the gold, diamond-encrusted statuettes inside to be smaller. These were not going to be easy to smuggle out of here.

Before she could make a move towards the display, she jumped, blood freezing in her veins as the sound of the stairwell door closing echoed around her. Cautiously, she looked over her shoulder, eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. Had that been real? She'd definitely heard a slam but... that was impossible. Everyone should be frozen.

The screech of a boot on the hardwood echoed through the room and her fists moved up to shield her face. No... it wasn't possible. No one could resist her song....

Something collided with the right side of her head and sent her sprawling to the floor.

"Ow! Shit!"

She pushed herself back to her feet, fist poised for a fight. The room appeared empty but the bruise forming aggressively on her cheek told her otherwise.

"Come on, you little brat!" she taunted, turning in a circle and squinting as if it would help. It had to be the sidekick. Maybe she had better control of her invisibility powers than Jillian had thought. "Let's get this over with. I have plans tonight. OW!"

Wildly, she threw a punch at the empty space in front of her, squinting through the tears that had shot to her eyes after that blow to the nose. It met only air.

"Ah!"

Another blow, this time to her stomach. She stumbled backward, fighting the bile that rose reflexively. Little coward; fighting an opponent while they couldn't see you was the kind of dishonorable thing her side did. These people were supposed to have integrity!

Invisible fingers suddenly closed around both her wrists.

"No! Get off me, you asshole!"

The brat's grip didn't falter. Desperate, Jillian kicked, missing again. Where the hell was this bitch standing?!The Invisible Tool didn't even seem phased by the fight, dragging Jillian away from the display like a cardboard cutout.

"I'll kill you!" Jillian screamed, tripping over her own feet in her attempts to halt the movement. "If you make me late, I'll put you in the ground!"

Her knee finally caught something and a grunt filled the empty space before her. The invisible grip faltered and she managed to free her hand long enough to smash her fist into what felt like her captor's face. Her knuckles came away sticky, creating a small stream of red suspended before her.

"There you are!"

"Ah!"

That had to have been her solar plexus. The hands fell away and Crusade Girl hit the ground on her knees, now visible in all her tacky red and gold glory.

"How are you still awake?!" Jillian screamed, shuffling away from her, fists raised.

Crusade Girl exhaled heavily, getting shakily to her feet, wiping the blood from her nose before resuming her fighting stance.

"Answer the question, bitch!"

The piercing blue eyes beneath the ugly red and gold mask narrowed in confusion.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Jillian demanded. Crusade Girl didn't even flinch at her piercing pitch, just stared intently at Jillian's mouth.

....Wait.

Wait a second....

"You're deaf."

...How had Jillian never run into this problem before? All those conversations with the cute, deaf chick and it had never even occurred to her? Of course someone who didn't hear wouldn't be affected by her powers.

Crusade Girl's eyes widened in alarm as she read Jillian's lips. It only took Jillian a couple seconds to understand why.

"I wasn't supposed to figure that out, was I?" she smirked. "That makes your identity too easy to uncover."

Crusade Girl paused for a moment, staring at her wearily before pushing a button on her hideous, gold, utility belt.

"Agh!"

A rope sprang from Crusade Girl's belt and entangled itself around Jillian's body, trapping her arms and legs in a vice like a boa constrictor. Now it was the sidekick's turn to smirk as she leisurely walked towards Jillian and knelt beside where she lay too shocked to move. Jillian didn't know if that was actual sign language or just random hand motions but the message was clear: "you should have run when you had the chance."

Well, shit.

"No, wait, don't!" Jillian begged as the sidekick reached for the phone on her belt. Crusade Girl paused, looking at Jillian skeptically. "Please, I can't go to jail!"

Crusade Girl rolled her eyes, and reached for the phone again.

"No really, listen to me!"

Unable to move anything else, Jillian bashed her head into the sidekick's knee to get her attention. She had to listen to her. She had to understand.

"I have a kid!"

Crusade Girl stared at her for a moment before rolling her eyes again and pulling a notepad and pen from her belt to scribble on.

You're lying, Jillian read in loopy, untidy handwriting when Crusade Girl turned the notepad towards her.

"I'm not lying!" Jillian insisted. "His name is Tristan, he's two years old and the whole reason I wanted to pull this heist was so I'd have money for college tuition so I can be a better mom. If I go to jail, he'll go into the system like me!"

Crusade Girl stared at her, clearly unconvinced. After a moment, her eyes fell away, dropping back to the notepad to scribble.

You're robbing a museum to set a good example for your son?

"Look, I'm not saying it's not hypocritical, but I don't have a whole lot of options," Jillian stated.

Crusade Girl's mask shifted like she was raising her eyebrows before she wrote another note.

Student loans?

"I already have a ton of debt from my maternity bills."

The Sidekick narrowed her eyes in disbelief. This time, she scribbled out a long message before letting Jillian read.

You've been robbing banks and museums for decades. How do you have debt?

"Do I look old enough to have been at this for decades?" Jillian demanded. "Your side isn't the only one that can pass on a legacy. The Black Siren from your parents' generation is my mother. She found me when I aged out of foster care and started training me to take her place. She was just about to pass the torch when I got knocked up. She was so pissed, she cut me off. Said the Black Siren didn't take handouts."

Crusade Girl squinted at her, calculatedly.

"Look, I love my son more than anything," Jillian continued, desperately. "I don't want him to continue this legacy. I want him to be a normal, upstanding person. I want him to go to college and get a good job. The best way to make that happen is to do it myself and lead by example."

Crusade Girl stared at her for a long moment, considering. Then she sighed, looking back to the notepad, carefully considering her words.

It sounds like you're a really good mom.

Jillian hardly had time to finish reading before Crusade Girl put the notepad away. The air left her lungs for a moment, thinking the sidekick was reaching for her phone but instead Crusade Girl's finger landed on the button that had launched the rope. The restraints cutting off Jillian's circulation fell away leaving her tingling and confused.

"You're letting me go?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing her wrists.

Crusade Girl nodded, moving her fist in a knocking motion.

"But there's no way I'm getting out of here with the statuettes I came for?"

Crusade Girl shook her head, touching her index and middle finger to her thumb in a motion that looked like a bird's beak closing.

Dammit... Jillian should probably feel grateful, but her tuition check was due next week and she wouldn't have the money without the statuettes. And she doubted she would be able to take this brat if she fought invisible again. Shit... Jillian didn't have a choice, did she?

With a frustrated sigh, Jillian got to her feet. Crusade Girl followed her example, staring at her intently. She would be watching until Jillian was gone, ensuring she wasn't paid for her shift. Typical rich kid, swindling a working mother out of what was hers. With one last hateful look, Jillian turned her back on the sidekick, hurrying back down the stairwell. She should be groveling at the brat's feet for showing her mercy, but the thought of the tuition check she'd already mailed bouncing and adding another mark to her already abysmal credit fostered too much rage to leave any room for appreciation.

The severity of the situation did not reach Jillian until she stumbled out the emergency exit and into an alley. With a frustrated cry, she kicked over a trashcan, spewing garbage over the pavement before slumping against the wall, head in her hands. Dammit. God Dammit. The new, awkward sidekick to the Crusading Dream Team was immune to her powers. If something didn't change drastically in her game, she'd be out of a job. How would she support her family? Furious, she broke into a run, desperate to put as much distance between herself and her failure as possible.

After five blocks she stopped, collapsing against a wall to catch her breath. Dammit, how was she going to resolve this? A muffled ding from her cellphone reached her over the throbbing in her ears. Trembling, she knelt down behind the dumpster to rummage through her backpack.

NEW TXT FROM ELLIE

Jillian opened the message.

Family function ran long so I'm gonna be a little late. Can't wait to see you!

Well, at least she still had this to look forward to. She changed out of her work uniform, comforting herself slightly with the thought that at least this date couldn't be worse than her day at work. It was only as she was stuffing her mask into her backpack that something occurred to her: Ellie was also deaf. The city didn't have a huge deaf population and Ellie was super involved with the community. She had to know something that could help her unmask this nuisance. Heart pounding, Jillian pulled her backpack on and started swiftly down the street. This date had just become far more interesting.

A bell tinkled as Jillian pushed open the café door. Glancing around, she bee-lined to an empty table in the corner. She wasn't exactly fond of the idea of using Ellie. She seemed sweet and god knew Jillian could use a nice person in her life. But this issue needed to be resolved. It wasn't as though she couldn't get information out of someone while honestly dating them, right? Not the best terms to start a relationship on but honesty wasn't really an option when you robbed banks for a living.

A hand appeared in front of her on the table and Jillian jumped. Following it up, her eyes fell on a familiar young woman in a long red dress.

"Ellie?"

The woman smiled, nodding and took a step back as Jillian stood to great her.

"Hi!" Jillian said as brightly as she could manage. She moved forward to hug her. "Oh! Uh... nice to meet you."

Jillian accompanied the last sentence with the shaky ASL she'd learned from the internet this morning. Ellie smiled politely at what was surely a poor attempt but signed something that Jillian guessed was agreement and gestured for them to sit back down. Jillian resumed her seat, eyes watching her date carefully. As she sat down across from her, Jillian couldn't help but notice the bruise forming across the bridge of Ellie's nose, the red tint to the skin beneath her nostrils as if they'd recently been coated in blood. What had happened there?

Grinning, Ellie pulled out her phone, messing with the screen for a moment before turning it towards Jillian.

Sorry, an unsent text message read, I didn't have time to charge my phone before I left so I'll probably have to use my notepad.

"Oh that's fine," Jillian said, waving a hand dismissively. "I like a woman who thinks before she speaks."

Ellie smiled again, placing her phone back in her pocket and replacing it with a beat up, old notepad.

...That looked familiar.

...Wait.

Jillian glanced back up at Ellie's piercing, blue eyes, seeing, for a moment, not the woman she'd been cyber-stalking for the past three months but a red and gold mask. And she halted the thought in its tracks. No. No way. There was no way in hell the lady she'd been chatting up was her new nemesis. That was stupid.

Ellie didn't seem to notice anything. She smiled, eyes falling back to the notepad and scribbling something that made Jillian gasp and jump to her feet with enough force to send her chair crashing to the ground.

Have you been here before?

It wasn't the question. It was the handwriting. The loopy, hard-to-read scrawl she'd argued with mere minutes ago. No way. No. Freaking. Way.

Ellie stared up at her, eyebrows raised in confusion. The panic in Jillian's mind quieted slightly as she realized Ellie hadn't noticed.

"I-I... I'm sorry," she stuttered quickly, reaching down and grabbing her backpack. "I've just realized... my sitter has to leave at nine."

Ellie's eye's narrowed and moved to scribble something but Jillian did not stop to listen.

"I've gotta go, sorry!"

And she bolted, rushing out of the café and down the street. Well... that was one mystery solved. That had been... regretfully much easier than anticipated. What were the odds? Out of every single person on the planet she had to start talking to her?!

Jillian didn't stop running until she'd made it back to her apartment and slammed the door behind her. Breathing heavily, she looked up to find her baby-sitter staring at her in confusion.

"You're back early," she stated. "How'd the date go?"

Jillian straightened up and said with as little irony as she could manage, "It didn't work out."

She really did have the worst luck with romance.

#writeblr #superheroes #queer fiction #authorblr #writing #my writing #write #author #lgbt authors #wip #authors #ya contemporary #queer ya #queer fantasy #fantasy

[carousels-on-fire]

Long post under the cut about going to PA to see my brother!!!

(I promise the entire thing is not as negative as the first few paragraphs, I needed to vent!) So first things first! My brother is awesome, he and his wife are so forward thinking compared to my parents and it was just nice to be around.  UNFORTUNATELY, the ship delivering me to that utopia of openness was my car driving me and my mother 14hrs, while playing car tag with my father. My parents are not, in any way, shape, or form, good people. They’re nasty, malicious, passive aggressive, aggressive aggressive, gaslighting, snippy, and just mean people all around. But they like to think they’re put upon nice people, and only THEY see the world as it really is. Its exhausting. They make me a worse person being around them. My mother spent the entire time calling my father every horrible word in the book, and finding every reason to be angry with him, even when there wasn’t a reason. And kept remarking about how he was probably throwing a temper tantrum in his car. The irony that I had to listen to her complaining instead. And she had the GPS on her phone too even though mine was open when I was driving and kept trying to tell me different directions. Basically being a control freak. And when I wasn’t driving she was tail gating people, flipping them off, speeding up and then slamming on the breaks to avoid running into people. I basically told her if she fucked my car up she got to pay for it. She’s a miserable person and I can’t wait to never have to speak to her again. My father spent the entire time being irate about everything, screaming at me about “helping out” with the dogs and just being a miserable asshole. And then turning a complete 180 and acting like everything was fine when my brother was around. He basically caused the poor dogs to fall down the stairs at my brother’s house twice just being a pushy impatient asshole. The dogs are old, the stairs are really steep. But...I can’t do anything about it that would help the dogs or help the situation at all. I’m powerless. Getting the dogs taken away would do more harm to the dogs. But they’re so mean to them. My brother even commented on it. BUT, BUT, in a beautiful moment my brother called my mom the fuck OUT for being a loud crazy bitch outside his house. He told her not to make a scene because his neighbor likes to sit outside on his porch and she was glaring daggers at him the whole night. It was nice to see her put in her place. Also my niece was not nearly as nerve-wracking to be around as I thought. After a couple minutes it was pretty easy to figure out how to interact with her. She’s two and only knows a few words so its not complicated yet, she’s not asking real questions. She’s cute but I don’t think I could be around her more than a couple hours, just because she does require constant attention. My brother got some photos of all of us with her and managed to get a great one of me pretending to bite her leg like a child eating demon. Kids seem to like me for some reason. I see a lot of my brother in her, and based on what I remember of the stories of him as a child, and how she’s being raised, she’s going to be a terror. Of the mischief and mayhem variety.  I do always feel slightly out of place around people who are really normal and have their shit together. But then my brother will do something really bizarre and its like ‘yep, there’s that family resemblance.’ To give some background info, my bro is a wedding photographer, he lives at the gym when he can, dresses really nice, he’s basically someone who would never ever need to be on Queer Eye. But he’ll do stuff like record himself driving and making monkey noises and getting really into character, its so funny. Or he’ll do shit, like we’ll reach for something in the center console of the car at the same time, and he’ll make sure to rub his arm against mine and be like “YEP let me make this as awkward as possible” with this ridiculous face. OR he’ll say something so off the wall in conversation that you almost don’t catch it, and then you laugh for like 5 minutes. I really hate that my friends don’t get to see my brother at his weirdness peak.  I hate that I didn’t get a selfie of us, because we’re really as different as you could possibly be appearance-wise.  Philly itself was kind of underwhelming overall. But, the 1hr and a half drive there kind of wore me out prior to actually walking around downtown. I think if it were like Savannah where I could take a bus into downtown, or in a place where I was used to walking long distances everyday it would have been fine. And I really only saw a little bit of the city because it took so long to get into the city and I had to leave before dark. So I’ll reserve judgement until then. The shops I did see and the variety of stuff was amazing. The oddity and punk stores were incredible. But it does worry me moving to a big city, that I’ll have to deal with traffic like that the entire time. Savannah traffic when I lived far from downtown wasn’t terrible. But Savannah is still a small city compared to Philly. I finally got to see the Mutter museum which I wanted to forever! Some of the skull exhibits made me so sad because some of them were from such young people. There was a wall of skulls with ages, nationalities, and sometimes a story. And it would be such tragic deaths. There were a lot of 25 and 26yr old suicides and that hit close to home. There were so subtly different. I loved trying to see the people in each face. The teenager skulls were so small. The children smaller still. The worst were the ones from women who died young in childbirth. I wish I got to see more of the fetal deformity exhibits at the Mutter Museum but we were running short on time. There was a Civil War exhibit about Black soldiers that was fascinating. Including a huge reproduction of a poster calling able bodied men of color to fight. My brother looked at it and said to me “How many of them do you think could even read this to know what they were getting into?” Its something to think about. But the sad part was the poster was about men of color getting their dignity and personhood reclaimed in that war. Its bitter to think they still haven’t completely gotten that, even after so much time. I could have spent days in that museum, it probably took me longer because I had to stop and read every single placard and try to picture what each thing was or was used for, or what it looked like alive.  There were a couple comic book stores that I got to check out, one with extremely helpful staff, one with not very helpful staff. I was on the hunt for that Hawkeye and Bucky comic that I saw panels of on here, and actually ended up finding it at Barnes and Noble. I did, while my brother and parents were busy at a wedding, get to see an old friend from college so that was cool. Its nice to just see people who aren’t my co-workers and get to do normal people stuff like go to lunch and socialize. Another thing I wish I’d gotten to try more of in Philly was food! I didn’t have much money to spend. The one cafe I went to had terrible, godawful pastries. Like...they tasted like someone forgot to add sugar to them at all. And they were stale/old tasting. I’m usually not one to complain about food that much, but this is an exception. BUT the one cafe thing my brother took me to was amazing. It was an italian place with coffee and pastries, but also actual food and wine. I asked the barman for ‘wine sweet enough to put in a hummingbird feeder’ and he did not disappoint. And the stuff is only like $8/bottle. The drink menu was intimidating though. It looked like it was in another language entirely. It probably, mostly was. The only really big downside to the trip was I caught a stomach-bug tuesday night and was out of commission wednesday and a lot of Thursday. Even though I was upright, it was like ‘at what cost?’. Even today I’m not 100% back to myself. But luckily my brother was super understanding/supportive. I felt so bad because my niece got sick too. She seemed to bounce back pretty quick though.   My brother is also awesome because he and his wife got me a copy of that John Olliver book Marlon Bundo about Mike Pence’s pet rabbit being gay and getting married to another boy rabbit. They bought one for me and one for my niece. They’re pretty great people. I’m so glad at least part of my family is sane and I don’t have to throw out the whole damned thing, you know?

#trip diary

[dafuqqqqqqq]

"Thelma" is worth the watch but hoo boy get ready for some feelings

The pace of the movie starts off agonizingly slow. I was thinking to myself that it felt less like a thriller and more like a looming marathon of anxiety working its way through molasses. Except the molasses is depression. And listen, I'm all for a young woman leaving her clingy Christian family to find herself (inside and out), but it's like twenty-five minutes into the movie and I'm just sitting here like "well does she have super powers or not?!"

And this is when I think I've fallen into this trap. Again. What I wanted was a sort of action thriller that happened to star some queer ladies. But what I got was art. Fuck that, man. I get it. It's deep, it's meaningful, there's allegory and metaphors and a deeper meaning. Snooze.

But like five minutes after that thought crosses my mind, I have to take it all back because I think her super power *might* be calling lesbians to her vagine. Which like, WOW. Is this gonna be like if the movie Teeth and Melissa Etheridge's Come to my window have a baby? You. Have. My. Attention. Let's go.

Also, Thelma's seizures are like the physical embodiment of being too gay to function.

The lady who plays Anja is quite the cutie. To be honest, the scenes where they're together are just so sweet. Thelma is at her liveliest brightest, versus the really underwhelming presence she has in the other scenes. So kudos to both actresses for being able to pull that off. And now I really take back what I said about the pacing. There's this scene where Anja and Thelma are on a balcony and they're not saying anything, there's just wind and silence and comfort and honestly I almost cried. It was perfect. It's like when you're in a moment that you know is gonna stay with you for a long time. They know they're in that moment, you know they're in that moment, you know that they know that they're in that moment. And then suddenly, without even being intrusive, that moment is yours, too. You could make a whole other movie about that moment. So, it's jarring to come out of that moment to go to the next scene but we got shit to do And by shit I mean dates to the ballet with Anja's mom. Do you remember that time Bette Porter finger fucked Alice Pieszecki at the opera? 'Cause I do and so did Anja. Lemme tell you something: you think you know what's gonna happen here. You don't! And then once you're caught off guard the first time, you're like, "alright, I see you. I'm good now." You're not! I feel like these two scenes were nothing but my brain trying to keep up with my heart and falling short every fucking time. I am having palpations as I write this. But also my heart is shattering into a million pieces and everything is fine and nothing matters even a little bit. Also, Anja? Boundaries girl, damn! If someone runs away from you after you finger fuck them, your go-to shouldn't be a kiss. Yike. It all worked out, but yeesh.   One thing I liked about this movie, similar to what I enjoyed about Disobedience is that it tackles the nuances associated with faith and gayness. I feel like when most movies talk about religion, they focus on how the institutions are detrimental to the queer community, which I get. But now we're getting this story of someone who is having a crisis of faith. We get this scene of Thelma praying and, I mean for fuck's sake, me figuring out I was gay was easily one of the top five moments in my life when I prayed most fervently. I appreciated getting to see that sort of holy gay panic on screen. Also tremendously heartbreaking, so there's that. That said, let's talk about Thelma's dad, shall we? Mr. I'm-glad-you-told-me. God. This guy. Alright, so there's the opening scene. He and Thelma are walking across a frozen lake and there's this shot where he looks at her and his face is just filled with fear? Maybe. Disgust? Definitely. Two minutes later, he considers shooting her right in the head. And you think to yourself "okay, so that first look kind of makes sense. This kid trusts whomever this dude is, but he clearly doesn't love her." Then we fast forward ten years and it's only then that you realize he's her dad. Awk. ward. The thing that threw me for a loop about their relationship is that he definitely seems to have grown to love his daughter. And it's clear that she still fully trusts him. Tells him everything. This is so key to the story. We know that he knows something about his daughter and so the impression we get is that he's decided to monitor it closely. I was beginning to think that perhaps he's not a religious man, he just needed a way to control his supernatural daughter's actions and minimize the effect she'll have on the world around her. So, he's built up this false sense of trust between him and Thelma that's kept her under his thumb so I was glad to see that erode as the story unfolded. Anyway, cut to obligatory Christian-girl-at-her-first-college-party scene. We're drinking, we're getting high, we all think very little of Christopher, we're fucking Anja on the couch in front of everyone, we're- WAIT. Wait wait wait wait. Are...are we really fucking on the couch in front of everyone? Does it matter? Also, the symbolism with the snake again. Jesus. This scene is...sigh. Also they didn't. My thoughts and emotions are all over this place and I'm a mess. A mess! Moving on. I had suspected from the moment we saw Thelma's mom's wheelchair that her daughter's powers had something to do with her condition. (Probably also why her dad wanted to kill her that one time, but it's neither here nor there.) But now we find out she had a brother once upon a time. Well, great. Bring on the sads! Also, kudos to the writers for having the professors' lectures be clues to the movie. The first professor talking about how things can be both waves and particles, similar to how Thelma's powers can be both a blessing and a curse. I forget what the second one said, but the third one mentioning that we exist in both two and three dimensions, just as Anja has disappeared into an unknown dimension. And the director slips in commentary about the way we see women's bodily autonomy (e.g. walking mom) and purity (e.g. milk and blood after exams), which was really subtle.

There was also a moment when I thought I'd come around on her dad, but you know what? Nah. Once Thelma realizes that her powers don't have to be a curse, that she can bring things back to people, she becomes unstoppable and it's a beautiful way to end that story. The only thing sexier than personal growth is self love and acceptance and that's why she's glowing in that final scene, looking like a cocky babe in her girlfriend's jacket. What a transformation.

Last note: don't see this movie if you're epileptic. Lots of strobe lights.

#Thelma #Longpost