#because i simply don't want to find myself in situations where people are yelling at me for no reason. i don't have the mental energy.
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Ramblings on Fandom: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Delusional Shippers, and Alleged Misogyny
So with the release of Season 2 of What If…? emotions are once again running high, the outrage is outraging, and people are up in arms about the whole Captain Carter situation. While I do think that some reactions are a little overblown, even needlessly aggressive in tone to the unfortunate detriment of their otherwise convincing arguments, I share the confusion and frustration about the sudden centering of a long-dead & never excessively popular character, the sidelining of the Steve-Bucky friendship, and the as-inexplicable-as-it-is-total exclusion of Sam Wilson as Captain America. However, I’m not here to talk about the show because (1) I haven’t watched this season and have no plans to (why waste time torturing myself with something I know I’ll hate?) and (2) other people have already written dozens of metas about it, so what could I possibly add at this point.
What I do want need to talk about (lest I explode) is something that has irritated me for a long time and that is now happening again: Every time someone even mildly criticizes Peggy Carter, expresses doubts about her suitability as a heroine, or even just questions her disproportionate importance to the franchise post-EG, inevitably a certain section of fans will come out of the woodwork to immediately throw around accusations of misogyny and yell about how we’re all just a bunch of delusional Stuckies who are mad that she got "in the way" of our ship. Sigh.
This is gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a cut. Rant incoming. You've been warned. If you don't want to read, simply scroll on by.
First of all, let me state very clearly that I’m not debating the existence of misogyny and sexism in fandom spaces—or in the media from which these fandoms originate. At all. It exists, it’s a thing, I’m not denying that. Which is exactly why it frustrates me endlessly to see these accusations thrown around as a gotcha! argument to shut down any and all critical debate around a female character. All it does in the end is escalate rhetoric and radicalize attitudes.
In the case of Peggy Carter, specifically her treatment by Stucky shippers, I’ve always found 'misogyny as a motive' to be a largely unsubstantiated accusation.¹ Now, I neither presume nor do I want to speak for the entirety of Stuckynation, so I will not claim that there aren't corners of the fandom where people discuss her in ways that I find off-putting and deeply unserious, but I will say this: If you genuinely believe that disliking one (1) fictional female character equals “hating all women” and wanting to suppress and marginalize their presence in fiction and real life alike—then I think we need to take that word away from you until you’ve learned its true meaning.
You might also want to ask yourself how exactly reducing a female character to a mute trophy wife or a heroine who has to act out her love interest’s recycled storylines helps your feminist fight.
As to the “standing in the way of your ship” part of the argument. Very simply put: No character can stand in the way of something if there never ever was “a way” to that something to begin with. “Being mad” implies that there was a reasonable expectation that wasn’t met, a substantive hope that was crushed. Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll gladly say it again a million more times: No Stucky shipper in their right mind ever truly thought that there was even the slightest chance that Marvel Studios owned by the Walt Disney Company would allow Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes to be canonized as an explicitly romantic pairing in their billion dollar franchise. Be serious. That was never in the cards. I wish we all lived in a world where it was, but we don’t, and it wasn’t. The best we could ever hope for was for Steve and Bucky to get a good, satisfying, in-character ending. And if, in Steve’s case, that would’ve included hints (or more) about a possible rekindling of his, uh, aborted romance with Sharon—then so be it. But we never got any of that. The characters never got any of that. Instead they sent Steve into 1950s suburban hell, literally trapped him behind a white picket fence, and condemned him to a life of passivity and lies, all so he could be married to a woman he barely knew a long time ago in a completely different world; who built and ran a top-to-bottom Hydra-infested organization, but apparently never noticed that there was anything wrong with her life's work. For decades. Great. As for Bucky—well, we’ve all seen the devastatingly grim-faced, utterly lonely, and deeply sad version of him that was presented to us in TFATWS. Happy endings all around, I guess.
So. Am I mad that Steve didn’t get to ride into the rainbow-colored sunset with Bucky at the end of EG? No. Because that was never going to happen anyway. Would I have been mad had he ended up with Sharon or another female character in the 21st century? Also no. Granted, I wouldn’t have been ecstatic about it, but mad? No. But am I mad that Steve ended up with this specific female character under these specific circumstances as presented in canon? Fuck yeah, I am.
The thing is: I personally believe Steve and Peggy to be fundamentally incompatible when it comes to the way they view the world and their respective places in it; their morals and values; their capacity for compassion and empathy; their ability and willingness to compartmentalize, compromise, and collaborate with people and institutions whose ethics and/or politics do not align with their own. I have a real hard time believing that a relationship between these two (or worse, a hasty marriage) could be either happy or long-lasting.
I don’t believe Peggy to be inherently evil, I don’t hate her, I simply think she operates within a different moral framework than Steve (and even genuinely believes it to be a righteous one).² Your mileage may vary, but I personally happen to find that framework reprehensible, even indecent, and ultimately dangerous. After all, over the course of the 20th century, we have seen exactly where that kind of “the ends justify the means” brand of pragmatism leads—over and over again. Not to mention that the people who use this line of argument to defend characters like Peggy (or real-life politicians for that matter) never seem to want to look too closely at who gets to define what "the ends" are in the first place and who decides when they've finally been met.
(Never. The answer is never.)
And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with depicting, and even centering a narrative around a morally (dark)gray character—oftentimes it’s actually the more interesting option—but you cannot at the same time claim that they are purely good and should be only admired as such when their actions literally tell an entirely different story.
So, no. I will not accept Peggy Carter as the shining aspirational heroine that the MCU so badly wants to sell her to me as—while simultaneously continuing to reveal things that paint an increasingly darker picture of her character. And I will certainly not celebrate seeing one of my favorite characters of all time—whose defining trait was that he couldn't ignore "a situation pointed south"; who used to fight for the little guy and against the establishment; who once said about the very organization that Peggy Carter helped build that it was so corrupt, it all needed to go—rendered morally inert for some hollow happy ending that may as well be a conservative’s wet dream full of false nostalgia for an America that never really existed. I cannot find it in me to be anything less but mad about that.
But that does not make me a misogynist. It does not make me a delusional shipper. It makes me someone who looks at what the MCU has been telling me about Peggy Carter for years now—over and over again—and takes it at its own word.
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¹ If you’ve actually read a a fair number of Stucky(!) fanfics you will have noticed that the reverence afforded to and "page time" devoted to her character and her relationship with Steve is somewhat disproportionate to anything that's backed up by canon—well, up until EG, where she was suddenly reanimated as The Great Love of Steve’s Life—and in my experience, it's highly unusual for any fandom to put so much (mostly) positive attention on another character, let alone a potential love interest that is not part of the endgame ship.
² I also want to emphasize that if you love Peggy and she's your fave: good for you! I genuinely have no beef with you. People can agree to disagree. All I ask for is that we maybe stop willfully ignoring the less savory aspects of her character. You don't need to pretend she's perfect to justify your affection for her. I LOVE Steve, and yet I have no problem conceding that he is FAR from perfect.
#*drops post & runs away* i may regret this but it's my blog and i rant if i want to#i know some people will roll their eyes & i debated posting this at all but i simply had to get it off my chest once and for all.#so there. now i can be free. or something.#also i have no idea what to tag this & i personally find 'anti' tags silly bc why is critical discussion automatically labeled as 'anti'?#but whatever i'll play nice. so i guess:#anti peggy carter#anti steggy#anti endgame#hope that covers it#wading into the dIsCoUrsE
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Hi! I don’t really understand self shipping. But I am fascinated.
What drew/draws you to it?
I have thought about it for a good while and my brain cannot fathom it, so I am curious as to what you find so nice about it. It’s a really cool idea.
Keep being awesome 😎
This ask made me think a lot. I think my answer lies not in what draws it to me but what it draws me towards.
I’d selfshipped since I was probably seven, when I lived with my parents and wasn’t able to go anywhere or experience the world very well at all.
Except when I’d insert myself into the movies and shows I loved. I think it’s a pretty common thing with selfshippers, to selfship without knowing what it was.
When I moved into foster care I was scared, but drawing my silly cringe things [without even having been exposed to the internet, mind you. I had no idea that that was what I was doing, it was just fun.] Helped a lot, until I found out about cringe culture, and I became afraid to do that by twelve.
Not too long later [two years] I discovered D/HMIS, which set of a huge chain of events that led to me taking comfort in the trio and realize that not only did I love them, but that I’m worth that love, too. I did some dumb shit involving me bending over backwards for others’ expectations and then bursting out my frustrations unhealthily. It wasn’t a good look. My love for them helped me get over that, I had to really push myself to love them, though. Since I was embarrassed to feel that deeply, more than I ever did as a small child.
I felt bad to ship with Yellow for reasons due to what most fanon depicted him to be versus how I saw him personally, I felt bad to ship with Red and Duck because they were semi-canonically canon together and also because Red was SUCH a hot commodity and I didn’t want to seem that Down Bad, and I was scared to selfship with Duck because I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to get back at someone in my past who adored him when really they don’t own him, neither do I, I can enjoy things other people used to without feeling guilty. Because I wasn't loving him to be petty, or loving Yellow to be different, or loving Red because of his popularity, [he isn't as much anymore I don't think] but because I simply love them and who they are. They make me laugh.
To love something without the fear of being made fun of or villainised, simply just LOVING is a big thing for me. And the more I love them the braver I feel, and that’s what they draw me towards.
And that determination to keep loving them BECAUSE of everything and all I’d persevered for [which doesn’t seem like much but for me it was big] I had the courage to leave my bad situation and live semi-independently when I hadn’t before.
It’s the thought that they’d be proud of me that keeps me going. They draw me to a better future for myself. They have faults, self-destructive tendencies, as did I. I still do. But I work through it because they wouldn’t want me to hate themselves so much as I don’t want them to hate themselves.
And if I ever lost that well. I’d be sad but not for long. Because the love I had for them I’d carry onwards, even if I couldn’t love them anymore, because terror and love are the same for me. And yet the love I have and choose to feel outweighs the terror of losing them.
And after that terror I have these wonderful ‘fluffy’ days of thinking about them. Wanting to comfort them, having them comfort me [as best as they can, I think they’d at least try their best]. Because they’ve spent their lives trapped in a house where people yelled at them and gave them lessons that didn’t make sense and endless pain for no reason, I understand how that feels similarly. Why they feel so aimless and unable to express themselves. Why they lash out at the first sign of freedom because being locked away is all they really know. I left my old life because if they couldn't, I could.. I live for them on the slight chance that they'd be proud of me.
Same for all my f/o’s, but I used the trio to explain because they’re my best example.
So what draws me to selfshipping is the acceptance of myself and what I enjoy, and courage to explore more of that.
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I found your blog last year and I have been reflecting a lot on your posts, when it comes to my own memories.
it was last year that triggered me to remember some things that I'd disassociated completely on purpose. and even accepting those led to a landslide of remembering many more other incidents. I live with my parents and I can usually convince myself that we are fine as a family.
but I'm not able to do that anymore. I keep thinking and remembering and questioning all of their behavior. but they don't really do that anymore. my mother still yells at me occasionally but my brother doesn't hit me and my father doesn't yell at me or taunt me like he did when I was a kid. my brain often tells me that I shouldn't get so sensitive over the past but what im feeling is simply horrible and doesn't go away. does it still count? even if we have a better relationship now?
It counts, yeah. These are all things that happened, and they have affected you permanently. You'll never be able to have a family that didn't hurt you in the past, in fact, they still do hurt you, just to a lesser extent. You're having to actively dissociate from certain memories just to be able to still live with these people. You learn from the past, the experiences they've put you thru have taught you that they're not safe, that you can't relax, that you have to always be careful and monitor what they do to you, that you always have to be ready to absorb more abuse.
Usually families stop the worst types of abuse when the child is a bit older and capable of telling, capable of reporting it, recognizing it, memorizing it, and holding them accountable. It's not because these people 'changed' or 'want a better relationship', they realize now that some acts of abuse would have consequences for them, so they only do the ones they can get away with – that being yelling and more subtle type of abuse that you can't so easily recognize and prove.
That feeling you have is correct, these people did hurt you, and are expecting you to just be okay with it and forget it, and the pressure is so big, that you're here wondering if even thinking about it makes you 'too sensitive', even though it was so bad you actively had to suppress memories of it in order to keep living with those people.
It's fairly common to have this type of situation, where day-to-day, you can convince yourself it's all normal, but inside you're festering with painful and traumatic memories, and these go neglected, unacknowledged, and you're supposed to be okay with the fact that nobody cares about what they put you thru, they only want you to shut up about it and act like it didn't happen. They're supposed to care what your experience of childhood was. They're supposed to provide you with love, safety, connection, care and happiness. Not only they failed, but they put you in a state where you have to watch your own reactions and your own feelings, not to show how badly they traumatized you, and you're forced to blame yourself and find things on yourself that you can blame (likely it's them who suggested you were 'too sensitive' in the first place.
I'm so sorry anon, I know this must be hard. It's ultimately up to you how far you want to think on this, and if you want or can do anything about it. It's okay to just forget it until you're ready to deal with it, we often need to do this in order to function. Maybe you didn't want an answer that would make things more chaotic and painful for you right now, and if that's the case, please disregard it. Only know that you are not too sensitive, that your experience matters, and that feeling the way you do is normal considering the situation. Your feelings are important too, and you're right to say them and to want to talk about it. I can't promise that the horrible feeling will go away, but one day you will be able to figure out why it's there, and how to deal with it.
#suppressing memories#dissociation#trauma#child abuse#abusers changing behaviour to escape consequences#hushed up abuse#victim having to keep secrets and suffering due to a past nobody takes accountability for
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Mena I worry that through my hatred of patriarchal religions ive become kinda racist. I try not to be, but I find it difficult not to think about what Muslim men believe about women when I engage with the Israel/Palestine conflict. The things I've heard are so repulsive that I do feel like every man who believes in it is sinister and not someone I want to be around. and I think that's reasonable, but when I put the thoughts together as "I hate Muslim men" it sounds awful. obvi I don't support Israel because I'm not evil, I'm just conflicted and can't find it in myself to feel anything but sorrow for the whole situation. I was hoping that you could talk about this a little bit, your thoughts on generalizing a population that large, but if you want to just yell at me for being racist that's also fine. this ask was spurred on my the "thezionistradfem" post you shared earlier and just for the record I do think she is crazy racist and I don't think that all brown people are animals that's awful. im just tired of putting up with misogyny. tyia
hmmm, maybe you could elaborate on what kind of thoughts you’re having that you feel are racist? but my suggestion is to remind urself that: just because someone is palestinian does not mean they’re muslim (although they’re more likely to be muslim). just because someone is born muslim does not mean they’re religious. just because someone is born muslim and even believes in islam, does not mean they believe in all of it or are awfully misogynistic. religion is misogynistic and that includes islam, but within every religious group is a pretty broad range of beliefs and diverse group of people, think of christians who you may be more familiar with for example: i’ve met some christian men who hold beliefs worse than some muslim men, and vice versa, like fundamentalist evangelical christians or mormons. there’s also groups of muslims that are significantly worse than others, like wahhabis. these religions have more extreme and more mild people, but often when criticising the religions themselves we will obviously focus on the more extreme (or even moderate) people rather than the ones that at least have enough morals not to buy into the misogynistic aspects.
honestly i don’t think there’s anything wrong with hating religious men in general, i don’t like them either and i’m very wary of them. if you’re also born into islam or from a muslim-majority country, that can mean specifically hating muslim men for you simply bc you’re closer in proximity to muslim men, the same way there’s women raised in christian countries who distrust and specifically dislike christian men. but if that doesn’t apply to you, then i guess perhaps ask yourself why you view muslims as significantly worse than christians when those religions are far more similar than different and overlap when it comes to misogynistic beliefs. don’t try to avoid your thoughts and push them away, question them instead. and i’d most of all suggest not to reduce palestinians to just muslims and realise that even If every man in palestine holds misogynistic views, it does not justify killing or mistreating them because human rights are for every single person not just people who we think are worthy.
also it helps me whenever i notice that what i hate in a particular group of men is a trait that men of every other demographic often display too, so.. perhaps that as well.
anyways here’s a palestinian song about feminism where the men rap about men’s double standards & misogyny, check it out! read the lyrics too.
youtube
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The Original P.I.X.A.L, (Sneak Peak)
Summary: Violet Genesis Borg was created in 1989 coming from humble beginnings on a 15 year old Cyrus Borgs laptop to now Eldest daughter to the Billionare Inventor. Her little sister, who carries her original name Pixal is Samurai VXL and Partner of Zane Julian and Violet just became Mayor of Ninjago City.
But even despite these things that make her special, Violet finds herself caught up in a rather unfortunately common situation, an abusive marriage that ends in a No Contact divorce. With a son in tow, she needs her family to lean on as she finds what it means to be
The Original P.I.X.A.L
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"So miss Borg this is your first time here?"
A slight nod,
"Yes, usually these appointments are usually for my son, but I knew I had to see one. My Father and sisters say I have been more irrational lately, the final straw was when I snapped at my Dad and he had to put me in my place, but I wanted to make sure Victor was okay and I didn't want him to hear more then he's already heard. As you of course know,"
The therapist Lila, held a sad but gentle expression,
"Yes I do know"
Violets processor flashed to her little boy playing with the play dough as he said,
I didn't like when I heard Momma yell
With the most broken expression that still haunted the mother. Victor didn't know it was because Bradley had just slapped her after she had just simply asked him about a suspicious red stain on his collar,
She vividly recalled burning hatred in yellow optics that once held so much love for her. The ones who held tears when holding their son for the first time, also when he held her hands when they were married,
"Violet?" Was carefully asked, snapping her processor out of the memory, realizing her hand was fisted gripping her skirt,
"My apologies I got lost in a memory," She responded, letting go and flexing the hand smoothing out the material,
A smile was given to her in return,
"No no that's good. If your comfortable, can you tell me what memory you were thinking on?"
The Nindroid shifted, a tad bit uncomfortable but pushed herself,
"The line Victor said, that one where he heard us yelling. Especially me?" The other nodded, coaxing her to go on "Well that was because I found one of Bradley's Shirts with what I now suspect was a lipstick mark, I wear lipstick, but never any variation of red. I had approached him about it asking how it happened….his response was to slap me,"
Her hand fisted again as she remembers the moment he struck, before hearing Lila ask
"Was this the first time?"
Violet only gave a nod,
"It is why I was so furious, how dare he hurt me in such a way. I think…" as she trailed off the other again gently coaxed her to continue "I think I was more mad at myself for not realizing what was happening."
A tilt of the therapists head as she asked
"How do you mean?"
A deep simulated breath drawn in and out in a heavy sigh,
"I'm not the first to be….abused" She just barely managed to say the word"My Dad's brother Clifford was like Bradley towards my aunt in law according to him. It led to his nephew being lost for close to 20 years, so a part of me is angry I should've seen the signs."
"Well, I don't know much about you and Bradley but I'd say he made you feel safe inside,"A nod to confirm her suspicion "Narcissistic People are great at manipulating people into feeling safe, it hurts more when you think someone's safe but it turns out you have had a snake in the grass the entire time,"
Looking up green optics meeting Lila's brown eyes,
"Even when you've seen it?"
"How do you mean?"
"It's one of my earliest memories it was 1996 my cousin Jay was born and my father was invited to go meet his nephew, I was in the kitchen because my father had asked for something to drink so I went to get it for him." She took a deep breath "I heard angry whispering in the hallway, saw my aunt and her husband arguing I'm not sure exactly about what but I saw her get struck. I immediately went to tell my father but the way he held Jay smiling, I couldn't break that happiness especially later on when he talked about how excited he was for his brother I still feel guilty for not telling him,"
She looked down and Away gripping her skirts Fabric in her hands
"I question to this day, if I had said something would have it led to a better outcome."
" well first of all about the not knowing aspect even when you've experienced abuse firsthand when you fall in love with such a person that love may blind you to the truth the smallest red flags become muted" she shifted " as for the other I don't think so is it possible yes but I don't think it would have helped I think the same situation would have played out just in a different way."
#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago pixal#ninjago cyrus borg#pixal borg#cyrus borg#Violet Borg(OC)#ninjago oc#pixal lineage
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I have somehow stumbled into watching "Special Forces: World's Toughest Test" -- originally I was curious about Jamie Lynn Spears' appearance, but it started auto-playing season 2 and I watched a whole episode before figuring out that it wasn't her season, after which I did make it through an episode of her season only to peace out because cold temps & near-hypothermia in the mountains > people being sweaty and on the verge of heat exhaustion in the desert no matter who they are.
Anyway, I'm sort of horrified at myself because it feels like I am simply watching people being tortured for the fun of it without even a big cash prize at the end (though slightly less so in season 2, where they know exactly what they're signing up for), but also...I can't stop? I keep turning it off after watching one episode like "well that's quite enough Britmerican Squid Games now" only to find myself right back there the following night for more (though at least as more people drop out, it feels less awful as the ones who remain are generally handling it better both mentally and physically).
I suppose it's because this show is peeeeeerilously close to simply reveling in whumpage, despite me super not wanting to apply that term to real people in real and non-scripted situations, and at the very least it is certainly giving me Scenarios, including for AU purposes where you don't get an option to simply say "I quit" whenever you want unless you'd like it to be followed by swift death or at least a miserable prison cell experience.
But also, it was genuinely awful watching Tara Reid stumble through the challenges while looking dazed and confused about where and possibly who she was half the time, a fact not helped by her interviews about how cruel comments online are and how bad they make her feel for being an actress in her 40s and no longer looking like the hot property she was in her twenties.
And yet somehow, the worst one for me thus far has been episode...4? because of the Olympic skiier -- who's got pretty decent athletic skills and seemingly no ability to be rattled but is quiet and soft-spoken -- getting yelled at for not taking charge/motivating/leading her team when she was supposed to be "team leader." Which made me SQUIRM HORRIBLY because I feel like that's exactly me whenever I'm a supervisor at my job...where that is in fact my official title...like I am right now. Making transparently pathetic efforts to parrot what sounds like leadership while having no confidence in it, possibly while more assertive and experienced people I'm supposed to be in charge of take the lead. Absolutely hate being shown when my fears of how I come across are not only justified, but it looks even worse than I thought!
Anyway, the episode after that is where I'm paused (FOR NOW) and I don't have a conclusion to this post, I just feel like I gotta publicly self-shame as my penance for knowing I 100% will finish it out.
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For starters I hope no one finds this, I simply want to use this space I have as a way of putting words, conversations stuck in my head playing repeat and leave em here. A way of being able to speak without the side effects of family seeing it written down and yelling at me for being mentally unwell, I want it to never be seen so that any friends I know on here never see this so that I don't have to worry them because it only makes me feel worse.
Also trigger warning... for any who don't like mentions of suicidal thoughts... who do decide to read when they come upon this post.
I think the most my friends know is me describing it as bad thoughts, thoughts that run through my brain everyday. About how useless I am, how worthless my existence is and how I can never do anything good because all I am is a burden to others. Do much so to where I feel so much of this way about myself to where many times there are moments where my brain screams at me to just do it... to make sure no one can ever see me again, and have to deal with me. I'm sure it is obvious what that means but for those who do understand... look to the trigger warning.
I... I don't know why I feel this way, nor do I think it can be fixed anytime soon, some people would suggest therapy but... that is unaffordable anyway.
I may post more about this, about more of my feelings and thoughts on my own situation... but I'm just... tired, unenthusiastic... I'm done, I don't think I have the energy to even continue something like this for long so, the next time will be here when it's here... no schedule for this.
Thanks for reading, but please do not like, do not share, I don't want traction. This is the one thing I ask, and I don't make it private because I don't know how that works and if I'm correct it won't stop people who follow me already from seeing it, so there is no point.
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Wednesday, 11/9/22, 2:36am
Dear Daisy,
I've lost a lot of trust over the years. Not that I really put much faith in very many people in the first place. I think a lot of it was just there out of the hope that there was some kind of security where it should be but never really was. I developed a very internal personality growing up. Which I don't think is inherently a bad thing, or particularly unique either. I learned really early on that the only person I could trust and depend on was myself. I lived by the model of "If I don't do it, no one will." I wasn't wrong in that thinking either.
There wasn't anyone there, even if they try to deny it and say that I'm remembering wrong (because I can't remember much at all) I do remember that. I can feel it too, rippling into my current life from my developmental years. I've been disappointed so many times that I try to not expect much so the fall is smaller. My Mom keeps saying "I'm sorry your childhood wasn't what you wanted it to be." As if I was expecting too much of it and should be grateful it wasn't worse. As if it is my expectations that were too high and causing this empty feeling. The blame just goes onto me, like it always has. Because I was the only one there, because I was the one responsible for everything, so of course there's no one else to blame. If anything went wrong I was responsible. So I had this constant gnawing anxiety about making everything right and doing everything correctly. "If you're gonna do it, do it right the first time." No room for mistakes, I always had to know better from the very start.
Some children grow up being treated as such. If it goes on too long they get rebellious and are bitter for continuing to be treated as children even when they have long since matured past that. I think this is probably more common from what I've seen, especially for girls, constantly being infantalized. They grow into adults who are fighting to be seen as mature and competent. But for me it was the opposite, I was treated as an adult from the start. With no break, no rest, born an adult. Then once I finally actually became one and could break free there was no going back. I can't go backwards but I still have that pain and desperate need for someone to take care of me. To pay attention to me, to take control and let me rest and simply exist. Maybe that's why I can only find peace when I'm alone. Because I am both the hurting child and trusted adult.
I don't know how to help that child. I can't be that child, it's too late. I'm a adult already. I just want someone to prioritize me for once, to choose me. I want to be important enough to be cared for. I never received that kind of love. It was conditional from both my parents. No one looked out for me, no one looked at me. And now I'm afraid that I'll end up in a bad situation because I'll jump at the first person to do it. I get left behind when someone better comes along, over and over. I only matter when there's no one else around but as soon as someone else shows up I get dropped. I know I have a fear of abandonment and I don't find it unjustified. But I also don't know how to make it hurt less. I don't know how to make it matter less.
I'm trying to choose me more, trying not to constantly give myself. Especially when I get nothing in return. I'm trying to prioritize myself even when others don't. Hopefully that's the right direction? Although it almost feels counterintuitive. I'm trying to protect myself because ultimately that's who I have. But it's scary. I've been yelled at for choosing myself before. Guilted and chastised for not giving in to other people's wants. For not prioritizing others desires and comforts over my own. Where's the line between selfish and self preservation? I really don't have all the answers.
Thanks for listening.
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Her Robin and His Little Ladybug Ch. 2
Ao3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2
As soon as Marinette spoke it set off absolute chaos, everyone started talking at once, asking questions and demanding answers from the small girl. Eventually Bruce, now as Batman, spoke up.
“ENOUGH.” Bruce demanded of everyone in the room.
Silence was all that remained where if a pin was dropped it could be heard. Both parties, Marinette and the bats stared at each other, until Bruce finally spoke again.
“Who are you?” he asked Marinette.
“I believe I asked a question first” Marinette smarted back. Jason snorted as Damian glared at her.
“Answer our questions harlot.” Damian spoke as he glared at her. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Dick or rather Nightwing now, spoke next. “Come on baby bird, be nice, we don't know her and she doesn’t look like she knows us.”
“That’s exactly the point Grayson! We don’t know her, or how she appeared in the cave!” Damian grimaced as he glanced back at Dick.
“Codenames, baby bird.” Dick muttered
Hi! I’m Nightwing! OMG, you're so cute and tiny! You're in the batcave, this is Robin, that's Red Hood, over there is Red Robin, standing there with the death glare is Batman, and finally sitting at the batcomputer in the wheelchair is Oracle!”
“Uhh… Hi.” Marinette waved. Dick visibly cooed at her while the rest of the bats just stood there.
“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m from Paris, France.” She said as if that would answer all their questions.
Realization spread on Bruce's face as he realized what happened. He realized that this must be the work of the Akumas the league was investigating.
“You said you’re from Paris, correct? Batman asked Marinette. At her nod he continued. “So this must be the work of an Akuma”
Marinette nodded. “The last thing I heard before I was transported here was a loud voice yelling, that people should treasure their relationships and that people should be able to have soulmates… or something like that, I don't really know, I wasn’t really paying attention as I was suddenly transported here with no warning.” she muttered the last part under breath but the bats still heard her.
After around five seconds of total silence, Jason started cackling loudly. “You, tiny little pixie is apparently Demon Spawn’s soulmate. Yeah, I doubt that…” Jason spoke, and started laughing again.
After Jason said that, all of the rest of the bats realized what she said and started snickering, except for Bruce and Damian, who just stood in front of Marinette with his mouth wide open gaping at her.
Dick asked a question next. “Wait, what’s an Akuma, and if it's powerful enough to actually locate someone’s soulmate and send them here, Why doesn’t the league know about this? Dick asked, looking back at Bruce.
“The league is aware of the situation. It’s on a need to know basis, and only certain members are aware. Wonder Women, Superman, Aqua Man and myself are the ones aware as the situation is extremely delicate and dangerous.
Paris has their own heros, that have been handling the situation extremely well and there has been no need to interfere. Wonder Woman has gone out and has spoken to the heroes. They are aware that if they need any help that can contact the justice league and we will send out a member to help aid them.”
When Bruce was done speaking, the rest of the bats were sort of shocked they weren’t aware of anything happening Paris this year or any year at all.
Barbara immediately put it into the Batcomputer and pulled up one of Marinette’s old fights. As Marinette watched the fight with the rest of the bat’s, she cringed. She remembered the fight, perhaps she remembered it too well. It was her third battle with Evillustrator. Nathaniel managed to remember that he could draw whatever he wanted.
He turned all of Paris into a war zone. He managed to draw himself an all powerful army with a stock supply of weapons. The battle lasted almost a full day and was one of the most lethal with over 1 million dead. The second deadliest behind Syren.
As the video ended all the people in the room turned to marinette with a shocked look on their faces.
Dick was the first to speak. “You deal with this all the time?” he whispered in a scared tone
“Usually they’re not that bad. That was the second deadliest attack Paris ever had, the first being Syren. All of the effects of the damage is reversed by the ‘miraculous ladybug,’ Ladybug, the main hero announces that after she broke the object where the akuma was hidden. As soon as she throws up her ‘lucky charm’ and says that phrase all damage from the attack gets reversed.”
“What a Lucky charm? You said it helps clear all the damage, so what does it do?” Tim spoke next.
Marinette nodded as she said, “ The Lucky Charm is something that Ladybug calls on during the battle. It’s usually just a seemingly random object, but as soon as she calls on it the battle usually doesn’t last any longer than three minutes.”
“What are the other heroes' powers?” Tim asked again.
“Chat Noir has the power of destruction, just as ladybug has the power of creation. All Chat Noir has to do is simply say ‘cataclysm’ and he's able to destroy anything he touches.”
Again all the bats, except for Batman himself, started at Marinette, with wide eyes.
“How old are the heroes’ because to me they don’t look to be any older than the demon spawn’s age. Also how long has this been going on? Jason asked of Marinette, in a demanding tone.
“All anyone can do is speculate the ages, due to the magic, but many say they have to be around 18 - 20 years old.” Marinette said in a rather confident voice
“And how long has this been happening?” Jason asked again in a tone that made Marinette take an unconscious step back.
“A-about four years.” Marinette said, with her voice trembling a little bit.
“So the heroes would have been about 13- 15 give or take when they first started given the assumptions are correct…?”
At her nod, Jason started pacing back and forth yelling, “FUCKING HELL, what the fuck they’re kids, they were babies when they started and they have to deal with the saving the fucking world every fucking week. I admit I was young too when I started, but it was my own choice and I got FUCKING killed for it!”
‘That’s why he has such a tainted soul, it absolutely reeks of destruction and creation magic, I’ll have to talk to Tikki later to see if we can get rid of it’ Marinette thought wisely.
“B, why in the everloving hell did you let fucking kids fight in a goddamn war alone?!” Jason yelled at Bruce while still pacing the floor of the batcave.
“Hood, they are only one able to fight in these battle, no matter what we do, we would not be able to fight, the best we do is investigate the villain.
Hawkmoth, the super terrorist, is the one creating the akamus. We find him, we stop the akumas.”
“You mean we just sit here while these kids are out fighting and there’s absolutely nothing we can do?” Tim spoke up, finally finding the courage to speak.
Batman simply shook his head.
A/N: ok, so like I have five chapters of this posted on ao3 if you want to read it there, (im taking a minute to post it on tumblr bc im lazy. ok) Also I swear I’m working on chapter 6, i'm just stuck on a particular scene and its taking a minute to figure out how I want to transition. on a side note this fic is honestly just something that my brain decided it would be a good idea to write at 2am so like don't expect too much. (sorry for the rant)
Taglist: (people asked in the last chapter to add them, so if you want to be added just ask. I probably wont respond, maybe, but I will definitely add you)
@alyssadeliv @yannowhatigiveup @sekhmet5
#maribat#daminette#maridami#damian x marinette#honestly I don't even know what this fic is anymore#crossposted on ao3#miraculous crossover#mlb x dc
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Huntmira Week 2021 Day 1: First Meeting
Emira
Ed is out on his big date, Amity is locked in her room freaking out about Luz, and I’m spending my first time on my own at the library. That's kinda depressing. I decided I wanted to go out but didn’t know where to go. Before I knew it I was at the front steps of the library. I guess this is what I get when the only places I really go to are home, school, and the library thanks to Amity.
Well maybe it won’t be so bad. I can take this time to walk around and explore a bit. Whenever Ed and I come here nobody ever pays that much attention to us. It’s kind of nice that everyone is in their own world so they don’t see anything beyond the book they are reading. I guess this is why Amitty likes this place so much. It’s free of the pressures of being a Blight. I never really gave it much thought but this is probably one of the few places where I feel I can be myself without any pressures.
I must have spaced out a bit there. I don’t recognize this part of the library. Not that I know the library like the back of my hand or anything but still. It looks older than the rest of the library and there’s nobody here. It’s also somehow darker than the rest of the library and also dustier. I guess not many people come to this section. It's actually kinda nice if you don't mind the dust. There's nobody around and the lighting is actually soothing. Maybe a bit too soothing. What's that noise is someone snoring?
I followed the noise to an opening with several empty tables with the exception of one. This table had several stacks of books that almost looked like a child's fort. It was also the source of the noise. As I got closer I saw that the source of the noise was a sleeping boy. He looks to be about my age. Yet the bags under his eyes and the scars on his face and arms almost make him look older. He must have a pretty hard life? I took a seat next to him, careful not to wake him and studied his features.
His ashy blond hair is actually well combed. I wonder how he got those scars. His clothes are of really good material so he must be from a wealthy family. I continued to watch him sleep while trying to figure out what his story was. Hmm, is that a mask? I must have dozed off because when I came to I was in the middle of a book avalanche.
Hunter
Oh no I fell asleep again he said startled at the realization that he had unintentionally taken a break. How do you want to prove your worth when you can’t even stay awake while doing research? *sigh* It’s not like it matters. I didn’t find anything useful today. The number of missions I've been on lately have started to wear me out. I can barely make out the words in these books with how tired my eyes are. My tiredness is just a sign that I need to do better. That's right, I have to be better for him.
That's why I started coming to the library to do research on wild magic in the first place. I want to help Emperor Belos. It's a slow process but I have learned a lot. I know that somewhere within one of these books I'll be able to find a way to help him. Although falling asleep during my research time won't do any good. At the very least I managed to get some sleep in so maybe now I’ll be able to focus … *chu*
Huh? What was thaAAAAHHH! Exclaimed Hunter as he jumped up after noticing the girl sitting next to him. His outburst caused the towers of books on the table to come tumbling down on the sleeping girl.
First Meeting
"Ouch that hurt. What are you doing? Why are you yelling?" Muttered Emira as she nursed her head which had been bombarded by books.
"What? Me?! You! Why are you here? What were you doing?!" Stammered Hunter as he tried to make sence of the situation.
"Isn’t it obvious? I was taking a nap before I was so rudely interrupted." Said Emira cooly as she dug herself out of the mountain of books.
"S..orry you surprised me. There's never other people in this section of the library." answered Hunter in a more composed tone as he offered his hand. "Plus people don’t normally take naps with strangers."
"I know but you looked so peaceful sleeping that I just had to join you" responded Emira as she took his hand.
"...Right?..."realization filled his face as he gazed up at the golden eyed emerald haired girl. "I know you, you're the eldest Blight daughter right?"
"That’s interesting because I don’t know you. Are you one of my secret admirers?" Teased Emira.
"What?!" Retorted Hunter in taken aback by her coment. "No,... everyone knows who the Blights are."
"That's a compelling argument..." said Emira as she got a bit closer to the boy meeting his gaze. "...but why are you still holding my hand then?" Jested Emira with a sly smile.
Hunter quickly pulled his hand away and turned so the girl wouldn't see his blushing face although his crimson ears gave him away. “I think you should go.” stuttered Hunter, still not wanting to make eye contact. Something about the way she looked at him made him very nervous.
“Oh don’t be like that, I was just teasing. Besides, it looks like you could use some company plus I could be of some help with whatever you're doing” she said as she started rummaging through the books that were still on the table.
Hunter turned to look at her wearily. “I don't need any company, I'm fine on my own. Besides, why would a Blight want to help me?"
Without looking up from what she was doing she simply stated “ First of all I have a name, it's Emira and secondly I have nothing better to do and I’m curious about you?”
"What do you mean?" Responded hunter with his own curiosity starting to peak.
"For starters your appearance, the clothes you are wearing make it obvious that you are from a wealthy house and yet I have never seen you before. You seem to be around my age but you're definitely not a student at Hexside. So tell me, who are you?" she said while staring intently at him.
Hunter was taken aback by her sudden bluntness and a bit impressed by her observation skills but he would not let on. "Who says that I am not a servant? Or that I stole these clothes? And what makes you so sure I’m not a student at Hexide? Maybe we’ve just never met?
"Oh you’re definitely from a wealthy house,'' she stated matter of factly. “You could be wearing rags and it would still be obvious. And as you so blatantly pointed out I am a Blight it is our business to know everyone who could be a potential ally or competitor. If you went to Hexide I would know it. Don’t worry though I won’t pry on who your family is but do you have a name I could call you?”
The boy paused for a moment trying to take in the situation he was in before finally saying “ My name is Hunter”
“Well Hunter it’s a pleasure to meet you, '' she said as she stretched out her hand. Hunter looked at it before taking it hesently remembering her earlier jest on his behalf. “It's a pleasure to meet you to . . . Emira'' he stammered trying not to make eye contact. Emira gave him a mischievous grin before moving closer to him “This feels like the start of a beautiful friendship don’t you think?”
Hunter instinctively tried moving away from her. Her gaze was still unsettling to him and although he wouldn't admit it, something about this girl scared him.
#the owl house#toh#huntmiraweek2021#the owl house hunter#hunter x emira#goldmira#huntmira#huntmira Week 2021 day 1#the owl house emira#emira blight#golden guard
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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 34
💖 first time reader click here 💖
A little bit of plot, but mostly ironstrange x reader filthy porn. Bukkake stuff. Stephen finally opening up a lil bit, I mean... I've slept through a 1/3 of a hospital and lemme tell you, doctors are kinky bastards. On the same note, there's definitely going to be a chapter where all three men are involved after the plot shit is resolved.
There was something big brewing. I had a hunch... which was more like a strong sense of doom... hanging over me and the rest of the world. Peter also had noticed the sudden spike in anxiety, quoting the sudden disappearance of many low-tier mutants from the streets. Usually, Peter dealt with at least a few enhanced enemies during his patrols but the closer it got to Christmas, the less enhanced bothered with small-time crimes, the more intense the buzzing of his Spidey sense became.
Now that my immediate lack of income wasn't a problem anymore, I set business onto that damn mercenary. I was no spy, I was no SHIELD operative but... I could be very clever.
First things first, I had to make sure I would stay alive no matter what. A subdermal tracker was a good guarantee of security and I spent many hours making one - having to keep it a secret was incredibly hard, I hated lying to my loves and I hated avoiding Wanda even more - I was constantly on the edge around the telepath, hyperfocused on keeping up the pretense of normalcy.
I wouldn't be me if I couldn't successfully pull off a whole ass façade. Unfortunately, the continued failures of the people searching left and right for the mercenary only fueled my strength for the inevitable fuck-fest that I would have to create in order to make sure my people get the peace they fucking deserve. The web of lies grew in size every damn day.
Subdermal tracker, an implant that reports directly to Friday upon activation. It hurt like a bitch - I had cut myself open, an inch wide gash on the inside of my forearm - and put it in without any anesthesia in my own bathroom, not even thinking twice before making up a lie that I had been careless in the lab and hurt myself.
An antidote to common tranquilizers, creating it gave me a headache the size of Moscow but I'd been successful; Tony assembled the whole team when he found it out, offering me a ridiculous amount of money for the formula. It was weird. SHIELD was interested, too, and I had to witness Tony and Coulson argue. Apparently, the agency wanted to recruit me and Tony was adamantly against it, totally forgetting the promise Natasha had given me. In the end, the spy and Coulson shared a quiet conversation and the man left, respectfully complimenting my skills.
I sold the formula to Stark Industries, unable to get rid of the weirdness of the situation. I had to shake hands with my own boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend... In a business setting. What. Just what. Bucky and Stephen couldn't stop laughing at the face I made all throughout that day - and Clint even went as far as to bake me a gag cake, a cartooney handshake drawn in frosting on top of it. I hit him with a spatula, Loki smiled in his direction for the first time in, like, ever. It was a trip and Tony had way too much fun with the incident.
Perhaps, turning myself into a cyborg stew wasn't the best plan that was possible to think up in a few weeks' time but I've never claimed to be exceptionally intelligent; if anything, I've always considered myself to be a moderately educated idiot. It is common knowledge that there are two halves of a whole idiot: my second half was on his way from California, having had received my very detailed e-mail about the whole cursed box fiasco and the consequences that followed. I could barely contain my excitement at the prospect of seeing uncle Eddie and his symbiote again.
Tony wasn't even half as excited; if anything, he bordered on outright hostile, bickering, and sassing everybody left and right. It could have been the situation at hand finally getting on his last nerves. It could have been his jealousy, the same that appeared every time I paid extra attention to someone that wasn't him, Bruce or Stephen. Either way, Bruce was sighing all the time now and Stephen's remarks began to fill with poison once again.
Just like the good old times, I guess. I was forced to pull a Me over and over, interrupting their petty arguments with increasingly absurd remarks. I felt like everybody was laughing at me these days, which ended in only one way it could have...
"Brat," Stephen's patience was paper-thin and, being forcefully distracted from yelling at Tony, he directed his angst at the nearest person - me. "I oughta put you over my knee. I swear to Cosmos..."
"Blah, blah, blah. Don't you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk?" I raised my eyebrows, tone deceptively calm. "You're talking too much for someone who can't even..." I didn't get to finish my sentence, suddenly finding my mouth firmly glued shut. It was magic - the sensation was pulling, but not unpleasant. Reminded me of a ball gag Tony had used on me in the early days of our relationship.
"Now, Dumbledore, hold your horses..." Tony interjected looking none-too-happy. The engineer placed a warning arm on the sorcerer's bicep, their little spat seemingly forgotten.
"What, Tony? She's been nothing but a mouthy urchin the past few days, I can't stand it anymore," They shared a meaningful look; no matter how much Tony wanted to argue, he knew Stephen was right. What he didn't know was that there probably have been a magic versus science altercation... Or worse. Humiliation was a small price to pay for some (relative) peace.
I did what I do best. I annoyed them further, throwing up a juicy middle finger to the two men and turned around with a huff, mind set on finding Loki to undo the mute ban Stephen gave me. Needless to say, I didn't make it very far.
In mere seconds, I was sandwiched between the two men, Stephen's finger delicately holding my chin to force me to look into his eyes. Tony was holding onto my shoulders from behind me - I could feel the tension, my engineer was almost buzzing with it. I was pretty sure my eyes were laughing anyway because Stephen's frown slowly transformed into a coy smirk once his stormy blues focused on my face.
"Brat," He repeated once again. "She's doing this on purpose."
"I can't say I'm surprised," Tony's breath tickled the nape of my neck. "That does sound like our little Princess," Apparently, it took all of a 0.1 second for Tony to switch from annoyed to horny. Men, they were so easy to play. "Baby, if you wanted our attention you could have just said so," He chastised me, hands sliding down to my waist.
I hummed, and then aggressively hummed some more until Stephen removed the magical gag. "Not like you'd notice it, being occupied with tearing each other's hair out," I pouted.
The sorcerer briefly averted his eyes, leaning down to softly kiss my pout. It was very unlikely I'd get an actual apology but a kiss I won't be complaining about either. "So, your best tactic was to annoy us even more? How does that work out for you?"
I pulled on the tied fabric around his waist, bringing him closer to me. "Pretty good, if I'm being honest. You're exactly where I wanted you to be," Carelessly, I began untying the layers of silks and cotton I had become intimately familiar with over the course of the past few weeks. Most of the time Steph wore his wizard garbs and while figuring out how to undo them was a trip at first, I had gotten him desperate enough a few times, for him to show me a few tips and tricks for easier access.
Tony snorted somewhere behind me. "You just want us for our bodies," His hands wormed their way under my shirt, brushing the underside of my breasts. Bra? Hardly know her. "Our beautiful, sexy bodies." Yes Tony, very humble.
"When will you learn, people?" I asked rhetorically, simultaneously leaning into both Tony's and Stephen's touch. "Why fight each other when you could be fucking me into oblivion instead?"
Stephen snorted, still not completely used to the at times crude things that left my (and occasionally Tony's) mouth. I had a hunch the sorcerer was holding back somewhat - for whatever reason - and I was eagerly waiting for him to get comfortable enough to reveal that special part of himself. Whatever it was, I just knew it was delicious and sinful and-
"Do you really think I will be giving you what you want after your little... Stunt?" Steph went balls out; his voice dropped and the intensity of his stare left me breathless. The hand that was stroking my face wrapped around my throat as he had some sort of a silent conversation with Tony.
"Yeah," I emphasized the word with an inaudible 'duh' behind it but obediently trotted along as Stephen backed up towards the couch, leading me by the throat like a pet on a leash. I was steadily going into 'no thoughts, head empty' territory.
"I like it when you get all bossy," Tony remarked casually but he was close enough for me to hear the strain in his voice. Every time we fucked, Tony eagerly gave up the control to Stephen. I definitely saw the appeal. Stephen Strange demanded authority effortlessly, his stern but fair attitude simply demanded to kneel.
That's just what I did. As soon as Stephen made himself comfortable on the Italian leather couch, I dropped to my knees, looking up at the man with big round eyes. Just like Tony and Bruce, Stephen had his own weaknesses when it came to moi and I wasn't ashamed to exploit them. Steph's stroked my hair, carding careful fingers through it, slowly unbuttoning his pants with his other hand.
"If you insist on being mouthy, I have a better task for you," He husked, pulling me closer towards him. I called it his doctor voice. Honestly, I don't have a clue how his surgical team could be around him with their pants on back in the day... The man was a snack on a silver platter.
Steph's erection sprang free. I didn't hesitate to wrap my hand around it, stroking the underside of his glans just like he liked it, looking to the side where Tony landed on the couch next to Stephen, a curious look on his face. Yeah, Tony liked to watch. Me and Stephen or me and Bruce... Me and Stephen and Bruce? That's an idea for later.
"Don't mind little old me," Tony smirked his trademark Stark mischief, getting comfortable, ditching his oil-stained shirt and unbuttoning his pants to lazily palm himself through his boxers. "Carry on," The smirk only grew when Tony noticed both me and Steph eyeing him with amusement.
I hid my grin, nodding my head, before wrapping my lips around the tip of Stephen's cock, relaxing my throat to prepare for the intrusion. Sweet and salty, the slit on his cockhead was mercilessly teased by the tip of my tongue.
Stephen murmured encouragements under his breath as I began to bob up and down, him controlling the pace with a hand in my hair, just the right balance between cruel and gentle. The sorcerer was always too good to me, bringing me to the point of overstimulation and instantly soothing the ache afterward; "Fuck, darling, your mouth feels like heaven," He groaned as I snuck a look upwards to see his lips parted and a steady flush crawling up his neck.
"She knows how to work a man, doesn't she?" Tony's lust had him panting, hips moving into his own hand. He leaned closer to Stephen, brushing my hair behind my ear with a tender hand. "Merlin needs to share," Tony began pulling me in his direction. I reluctantly let go of Stephen's cock, keeping up the pace with my hand as I scooted closer to Tony to be able to mouth at his stiff erection.
Watching me suck cock always got Tony hard enough to pound nails with. I couldn't blame him, I knew what I could do and did well; by the time I made my way down his thick flesh, drool was dripping down my chin and the make-up around my eyes was surely smeared by tears. My engineer was much less gentle than Steph, pounding my face without reservations.
"I know you can take it, baby girl, fuck," My face was held in his strong grip, thumbs digging into my jaw. "Such a good girl," The two words went straight down to my pussy and I had to squirm and clench my thighs together, whining at the lack of friction.
The air was pierced by a low moan - Stephen was fisting his erection almost desperately now, almost as desperately as I was humping the air, whining like a bitch in heat at the taste of Tony's cock in my mouth. I knew neither of the men would last long, not with all that pent up tension running through their minds and bodies.
"Fuck, come here, baby girl," The engineer yanked me off his cock, gripping the base of it so forcefully his knuckles turned white. I was all but dragged into the space between them; still kneeling, barely seeing with snot and tears smeared all over my face, I couldn't hold in the broken moan as the realization set in.
"Keep your eyes open!" Steph instructed furiously, scooting to tower over me. Tony followed in his steps as I obediently lifted my eyes to their cocks and then their faces; nearly identical furrowed brow expressions stared back at me, lips moist and eyes wide. Both men stroked themselves with renewed vigor.
I hummed softly before sticking out my tongue; their reaction didn't let me wait long. Strings of pearly white cum landed in my hair, on my face; I felt the warmth on my skin and tasted their salt and musk on the tip of my tongue, reflexively swallowing each and every drop that landed in my mouth, savoring it just like I savored the sinful groans that left their mouths.
"Fuck, you're so good to us," Tony panted, gracelessly falling backward onto the couch.
Stephen, however, didn't hurry to catch his breath, giving me a thoughtful look. His fingers shook more than ever but he paid no mind to the discomfort, gathering the cum dripping down my face with two fingers and offering it to me, holding them up to my lips as I gently cleaned them off. And he did it again, and again, until Tony gave a weak moan of recognition, throwing an arm under his head.
"Be polite, Princess," Stephen's voice hadn't lost the lust in it just yet.
"Thank you, sir," I mumbled, utterly captivated by the way he was looking at me. Stormy blues radiated a strong sense of intensity, devotion perhaps, that I wasn't ready for.
Stephen smiled at me, almost coyly, before kneeling right next to me and bringing me over the edge with a few sharp, clever movements of his hand. I held onto his shoulders for dear life, barely noticing Tony's reaction - if there was one - my other lover seemed to be as surprised as I was, choosing to hang back and observe the unusual situation.
I had a feeling that whatever it was, it would make another appearance during our playtime. It wasn't just sex, it wasn't making love - it was... Something. I loved every second of it.
@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming
#bun writes#party favours#tony stark x reader x stephen strange#Tony Stark x reader#bruce banner x reader#stephen strange x reader#tony stark x you#bruce banner x you#stephen strange x you#tony stark x y/n#bruce banner x y/n#stephen strange x y/n#tony stark smut#stephen strange smut
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I get that there has been a lot of mostly young people harassing and such, but like... the amount of hate I see young people getting seems kind of hypocritical?? Like older fandom members are great, and yeah these kids probably don't know the half of it, but... I doubt the fandom moms were perfect as fandom kids. No one is. But there is zero empathy to be found, and all these people espousing downright hatred for kids on the internet. I *work* with kids for a living, if anyone were to dislike them it would be someone who is with them 24/7, but... they don't deserve this. Especially since some TERF or SWERF or some other conservative shit fuck got to them first, probably a parent. Idk. It's complicated.
--
“Fandom mom” is almost always a pejorative applied by somebody else, honestly. I’m middle aged and trying to get pregnant, and I would never use that dumbass term for myself. But yes, no generation of fandom is flawless. In the past, the m/m shippers tended to be more pro-kink simply by virtue of a homophobic world classing m/m with extreme shit, while the people yelling about ~problematique~ fiction tended to be overtly conservative homophobes. But my fellow m/m shippers were idiotic in plenty of other ways.
Having now spent several years hearing from more randos about the depressing shit that has happened to them, I find myself knowing a lot of 20-somethings who got ostracized by their entire friend group and threatened with all the material those “friends” knew because they had been friends. Even if they were shitty little bullies as part of that pack (and quite a few of them were), that’s no way to live! Nobody deserves to live in fear that all their friends will turn on them if they’re honest about themselves or that their tastes make them a future abuser or that it will be impossible to find another group of friends later.
The problems of ostracism by the other side are very real. It came up memorably after a bunch of the thanfiction stuff in the past and after Laura Hale fought with OTW supporters. I remember the conversations around how it’s important to give people space to back off from their more toxic friends without viewing them as Forever Suspect. All you do then is isolate them with that person you don’t think they should be listening to, whether that person is a full on abusive cult leader or just a persuasive jerk. (And the fact that those conversations were happening points more to the fact that being the bigger person isn’t the norm in these situations and never was.)
I’ve seen some of those conversations in recent years with that “support ex antis” stuff, but it’s pretty small compared to the volume of messages I see that are like “If I back off from my friends, they will hunt me, and nobody else will want me now either”.
I also pretty regularly run into 20-somethings who are much more ship-and-let-ship in the first place asking me where on earth they can go find some “pro ship” friends, and I never know where to send them. The fact is, all that “conservative Protestantism in a gay hat” stuff has its claws into their age group, no matter which labels people put on themselves.
I don’t think there’s zero empathy. I think when directly asked about it, a lot of older people who are actually paying attention to fandom drama will talk about the social forces in play and how it’s not every young person. But when it’s not the direct topic, people make sweeping cranky statements that are the age equivalent of “Ugh, men!” or “Ugh, the straights!”
I agree: objectively, young people don’t deserve all this blanket blame. OTOH, all the people bitching didn’t deserve all the harassment they’ve suffered, and overly general salty statements are a fact of life on social media. I’m not holding my breath for this pattern to improve any time soon.
I say 20-somethings because, in my experience, a lot of this is 20-somethings and not people younger than that. Tumblr discourse and a fair quantity of twitter discourse is a bunch of 25-year-olds fighting with a bunch of 35-year-olds. Or a bunch of 22-year-olds fighting with 27-year-olds. It’s old vs. young, but it’s not even all that old or all that young. I assume the actual kiddos are off fighting with each other on Amino or something.
People can be dumbasses, including about history, at any age. (Try asking your average person lecturing about strikethrough literally anything about anime fanworks fandom history...)
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secrets that you keep → peter parker
DESCRIPTION ⌙ in a consolation trip back to europe, the kids of midtown high are eager to have a normal vacation, finally. but you on the other hand are on a mission. something weird is going on with peter parker, and you’re going to figure it out.
PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader
WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“-smaller group than before, but we’ll still have fun guys. the tour company has made precautions for you kids. there will not be a repeat of last year.” mr. harrington babbles.
you sink lower into the bus seat. you did not want to be back in europe. truthfully you want to be anywhere but here. wherever, here, was. no one knew. cell service went out about five miles back and the bus driver didn’t speak english.
“yeah guys, don’t worry. this trip is going to be ten times worse than the last. it’s already started bad since we don't know where we ARE!” flash yells, running a hand down his face.
mr. harrington tries to calm him and the rest of the bus down, to no avail.
you block out the commotion and stare out of the bus window. grass, farm, cattle, shack, more grass, more farm. and not one single cell tower in sight. this is it, you think, this is how it ends, stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying people you’ve ever known.
“guys, GUYS! my service is back,” betty yelps. “it says we’re in wiveliscombe, and that it’s going to be three hours until we reach london.”
her words are met with groans.
“at least we have cell service now.” jokes peter parker, who’s sat in the seat across the aisle from you. he’s cute and nice, but weird. last year’s trip he had about a thousand excuses as to why he’d leave the group and if it happened this year, you were gonna figure out why. no matter what it took.
“mhm, and since we have access to the endless possibilities of the internet again, we don’t have to talk..” you huff.
“i.. sorry. i didn’t-” you cut him off by placing your earbuds back into your ears and turning the volume up.
something about peter irked your nerves in a way you couldn’t understand. maybe it was the way he knew fucking everything. maybe it was the way his body became incomprehensibly fit in such a short period of time. you really couldn’t understand that. even went as far as to do research on steroids, but found there was no way he could be using those. most probably it was the nonsense of his idiotic excuses. he might be able to fool everyone else, but not you. you knew there had to be something going on.
he and his stupid cute little brown curls, button nose, and six pack were under your firm watch.
by the time the bus reached the hotel the sun was beginning to set. jet lagged and in need of a long shower, you’re one of the first to fly into the hotel.
“It's me and you for the next week.” mj smiles, holding out a room key for you. truthfully, you really liked mj. she was cool and liked a lot of the same things as you. but she had one fatal flaw in your eyes, she used to date peter parker.
it was a short lived relationship, almost everyone saw it as a fling. peter and mj were just… too different. but they remain close friends.
it’s not like you were jealous... just, a tad bit jealous. besides, that ship had sailed and your goal wasn’t to end up like mj on the last trip to europe. no, you had other plans.
“cool. we can watch murder mysteries tonight and grab some snack from the convenience store down the street.” you grin.
the rooming situation for everyone else took entirely too long. it started with flash being upset that his room requirements weren’t being met. he wanted nothing to do with a roommate. this, caused his previous roommate, zander, to object to rooming with someone so, ‘coddled’.
took a full twenty minutes to resolve the issue.
“mj, you still wanna visit the national gallery tomorrow?” asks the one and only peter parker.
“uh, yeah. y/n, wanna join?” she questions.
you were ready to object, finding it far more intriguing to stay in and sleep but then you remembered your little mission. if you wanted to figure out what peter parker’s deal was, you’d have to be around him.
“sure. nothing better to do.” you shrug, peering straight into peter’s eyes.
“i, uh- i thought we’d get an early start to the day. ned wants to go on the jack the ripper tour, so that gives us until one to look through the museum.” peter rambles.
“alright, me and y/n will meet you two down here around ten thirty.” mj clarifies.
“see you then. night mj,” he looks to you. “goodnight y/n.”
you narrow your eyes at him, “sleep tight parker. busy day tomorrow.”
with that you and mj enter your room, ready to sleep off the jet lag. and soon enough, sleep carries you into her open arms, preparing you for the day ahead.
the next morning consists of peter and ned rushing in and out of their room. the duo forgetting nearly everything they needed for the day. it was extremely annoying. but you’d take watching the two ninnies scramble about over this tour you’re forcing yourself to get through right now.
the national gallery was proving to be a bore. maybe it was you. or maybe it was the dull ass tour guide. either way, you’re finding it hard to focus on any of these artworks around you.
“this is the arnolfini portrait. it’s the work of jan van eyck and it is believed to depict an italian merchant named giovanni di nicolao arnolfini. this painting has remained in the national gallery since 1843.” the tour guide drones.
you peer up at the art, searching for anything to interest you about it. you try to focus of the dark green of the woman’s dress, then the small dog, but nothing about this art is appealing to you. instead, you find the whispered conversation going on behind you to be much more intriguing.
“ned how am i going to make it all the way to japan and back here before the ripper tour?” peter grumbles.
japan?
“i don’t know, but i really don’t want to go on a tour of the most infamous and creepy serial killers of all time without my best friend.” ned whispers.
“but mj will be there, and.. y/n.” peter assures.
“great. they both creep me out. that’s like, two extra loads of creepy added onto the already creepy tour.” ned huffs.
“dude, i have to go… mr. stark is waiting on me.” peter pleads.
you hear ned give an annoyed, “fine.”
you wait a few seconds before turning around to face peter’s friend.
“where did peter run off to?” you ask, as innocently as you can.
“uhhhh- the bathroom. the uh, hotel bathroom. yeah, must have been those tomatoes he ate with his breakfast today.” ned gulps.
“mhm. well i think i’ll meet up with him. he shouldn’t walk all the way back alone.” you smirk, shoving past ned and running the direction peter went.
it took a good minute to find him outside, the boy running into a bakery. but once your eyes find him, you rush straight in, right behind him. eyes narrowed and full of questions.
the brown haired boy quickly enters a bathroom and you grin.
no escaping now, parker.
you wait outside the bathroom eagerly. only for minutes to pass. no sound escapes the room and you furrow your brows.
you knock on the door, no answer. annoyed you open the door, only to be met with an empty bathroom.
an empty bathroom with an opened window.
what the fuck?
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“we’ve been upgraded!” mr. harrington gleams, looking down at our tired faces.
“last time we were upgraded we almost died.” betty sighs.
“ah- what did i say, we’re not going to repeat last year,” harrington retorts. “now...how do you guys feel about paris?”
well those words certainly livened up the breakfast table. train tickets are soon passed around, and you study yours, spoonful of yogurt still in your mouth.
“hey y/n, mj and i are gonna go to the louvre when we get there,” ned grins. “wanna come with?”
you chuckle, “another museum? nah, i’m good.”
mj quirks a brow at you, “this museum is home to the mona lisa. it’s not just any museum.”
“and the mona lisa is not just any painting… it’s an ugly one.” you huff.
ned guffaws at you.
“honestly, i might skip out too.” peter says.
you turn to face him, “great. you and i can explore paris while mj and ned explore another museum.”
he shifts in his seat, “i dunno i was thinking of-”
mj cuts him off, “i think that’s a great idea y/n. don’t you, peter? you remember what harrington said.. no repeat of last year.”
her eyes are cold as she awaits his answer and he fidgets more in his seat.
“i just think it might be best for me to stay here… ya know in case mr. stark needs anything.”
you roll your eyes, “dude, you’re just an intern. what could he possibly need that his other ten thousand interns can’t do.”
“technically he only has like six other… interns.” peter mumbles.
“but uh.. they can handle whatever mr. stark needs from you. i mean they’ve been av- uh, interns, for a while.” ned says, eyes pleading with his friend.
peter sighs before smiling at you, “alright, me and you versus paris.”
no peter parker, me and myself versus your dirty little secret.
somehow you got to sit next to peter in an empty train car for the ride to paris. and holy shit.. could he talk.
his eyes did have a way of lighting a fire inside you as he talked but, that, was not the point.
it was between an empty car with peter or full car sat between flash and harrington.
peter is always better than the latter.
“-anyways, how’d you convince your parents to let you go back to europe?” he asks.
“i didn’t. they made me.” you say simply.
peter slumps into his seat a little, “uh, why?”
“because when they were younger they traveled the world. i dunno, i guess they expect me to want to as well.”
“oh. well, are you enjoying it so far.” he asks.
i’d enjoy it more if i could figure out your damned secret, parker.
“sure.”
and then, finally, peter is quiet.
but not for long, as the train comes to a screeching halt.
over the train speakers comes a booming voice, “veuillez rester calme. le train s'est arrêté en raison d'un dysfonctionnement du moteur.”
your body tenses and you look at peter, “please tell me you understand french?”
“a little.. i dont think we need to worry. they said it’s just an engine malfunction.” he nods, looking around the train car.
you try to breathe.
everything is okay. there’s no evil robots coming to destroy a train car with two innocent teenagers. that’s so pre civil war. just breathe.
suddenly a loud bang is heard from the car behind you. not just any bang… a gunshot.
“holy shit.” you whisper, stiff as a board.
peter on the other hand is rummaging through his bag.
“parker! what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.
“i.. just trust me okay? when i tell you to run… run.”
you look at him with a scowl, “i’m not going to be the sacrificial pig for slaughter, asswipe.”
he rolls his eyes, “i’m going to run with you. we’re going to find an empty car and then… wait for spiderman.”
you blink. the kid’s gone insane.
“peter. listen, i know coping with your own inevitable death can be hard but, spiderman.. really?” you groan.
another loud bang comes from the car behind you.
peter looks at you, taking your hand in his.
the door to your car bursts open.
“run!” peter yelps, rushing into the next car, the gunmen not far enough behind.
“holy shit i’m gonna die.” you scream.
peter throws something at the gunmen when the two of you enter the next car, separating the two of you from the monsters.
but the kid didn’t throw just anything at them. motherfucker threw a damn door. a metal train door.
by the time you process the information, peter is pulling you into a cramped bathroom.
“i don’t have much time but basically, hi, i’m spiderman. those guys back there are people tony stark pissed off really bad and i need you to hide in here until i fix this issue.”
with that he pulls his jacket off revealing the spiderman suit you’re so used to seeing on the news.
“that’s your secret? this entire time i’ve been hanging around you trying to figure it out, and it turns out you’re spiderman. i would have thought anything before fucking spiderman.” you dwell, eyes wide.
he slips his mask on, “wait, you only hung out with me because you thought i had a secret? i mean.. i did but-”
another loud bang interrupts him, “nevermind. we’ll talk about this later. stay here and don’t tell anyone what i just told you.”
you nod, and watch him exit the bathroom.
so much for “not a repeat of last time.”
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“at least it wasn’t witches this time.” mr. dell sighs.
your entire fourth period groans.
“what! our world is infested with witches now. i don’t even know why i’m teaching science. i’m gonna turn around one day and suddenly i’ll be teaching witchcraft.”
your eyes return back to your desk, staring a hole into the old wood. your trance is broken by a crumpled piece of paper. you roll your eyes and turn your attention to peter, who after europe has been watching you like a hawk.
you open the paper to see, ‘listen, mr. stark said i need to get written evidence that you won’t spill the beans. please sign below.’
you grimace but sign at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to your new ninny friend.
that’s right. friend. despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, with the weirdest secret ever.. peter was nice. he was really nice. he liked almost everything you did and listened intently to whatever you had to say.
“earth to y/n.” his voice calls from beside you.
“oh? is class over?” you ask.
he nods and holds his arm out to you. you take it and give him a half smile.
you may find peter parker to be the weirdest dude ever, but you can’t deny that the secret superhero is starting to flood your mind. you never thought you’d be the one to say it, but peter parker is the coolest weirdo you’ve ever met.
and besides, your mission was a success. you figured out his secret and obtained a friend along with it.
well, friend, until you could complete your newest mission.
telling him you like him. like, a lot.
#—myfics !#peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#spiderman x y/n#spiderman x you#spiderman x enemy!reader#peter parker x enemy!reader#mcu#mcu fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman fanfiction#spiderman far from home#x reader#peter parker
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eleventh: divine museum (pt. 4): "cold metal and tepid tea"
@impinehoney said to under-sedationnn: may i have a request for the eleventh doctor? maybe an adventure that leads them to an art museum, but like some more divine type because it’s on a different planet or something?? ahH THANK YOU
Word count: 2280
part 1
part 2
part 3
tag list: @gayandfairycore
if you would like to be added to the taglist, just comment on this post (or any of the other parts), send me a message or submit an ask! that way you will be notified whenever a new part is posted :) thanks and happy reading!! <3
Invisible, frigid hands seemed to pull us toward the ever growing light, leaving paint stains smeared across our bodies. It grabbed at us blindly, though the grasp was light, not as suffocating as it was before. My nose and mouth did not seem to fill with paint, though it had captured every inch of my body.
Falling through the frame of the painting, I turned to the side and saw the Doctor collapsed on the floor, smiling broadly. “Woo hoo! What a rush!” He put his arms in the air above him, and acted as though he had just gotten off of a ride.
Although I enjoyed his enthusiasm, I did not share his joy for the feeling. “Not in a good way, though,” I countered, placing a hand on my forehead, “it makes my head feel all strange.”
“Ah it’s just because you haven’t eaten dinner!” He jumped up, pulling me up with him. I teetered slightly, his arm catching me around my waist. “Yeah, sorry about that. We’ll stop somewhere nice to eat after all of this is over.”
Placing a hand on his chest, I laughed, “We are covered in paint. Honestly, if we could just have breakfast for dinner in the TARDIS after all of this, it would be lovely.”
“Just the two of us?” His eyes seemed to light up at the thought of such a small, intimate meal with me. I shared the feeling, my face heating slightly.
“As long as that’s okay with you.”
“Of course,” he began, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the sides of my waist. A gesture he didn’t seem to notice, but made my heart race. “Eating with you, just you, sounds wonderful. Quiet.”
A smile creeping onto my face, I responded, “I hope it’ll be quiet, I need a peaceful night after this.”
“Mm, yes,” he said, as I wound out of his embrace. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, at least we know how to escape the paintings now!”
“We do?” I asked.
Gazing around the room again, to find our next painting, he responded, “Yes! They admitted whatever truth they had been keeping from one another, that’s the trick! The question is, what are they hiding?”
I followed his eye, and found the painting of the mother and child we had found earlier. The mother looked pained, worried; and the infant was screaming out, clawing to get away from the woman.
I huffed out a small sigh, worried of what we would find upon entering the painting. The Doctor gave me a comforting look.
“Y/n, what’s the matter?”
“We just- When we go into these paintings and we have the people within them admit their darkest secrets, it feels… invasive.” I rubbed at my arms, chasing away a quiet chill, a creep down my spine.
“I know it feels wrong, but we are helping these people. It’s never good to keep secrets in, ever.”
Although I knew he meant those words, he seemed hesitant. His eyes a little sad, far away and deep in thought. He had lived such a long life, there were bound to be things that he hadn’t shared with me, or didn’t want to.
I asked without thinking. “Are you keeping any secrets from me, Doctor?”
He shot a look at me, his eyes going wide. Restoring a neutral expression, he simply answered, “Of course, not. There are things you don’t know about me, yet, but I have never kept anything hidden from you.”
Once again, doubt in his voice. Rule number one, the Doctor lies. He’s a terrible liar.
Stepping closer to the painting of the mother and child, he busied himself. “Are you keeping anything from me, Y/n?”
I too busied myself with observing the painting, not wanting to answer the question. “No.”
A lie.
“Good, good!” He smiled at me, though a little pained. “Well, should we go then?”
“Yeah,” was all I managed.
Our arms became increasingly enveloped in the sticky paint on the canvas, the fumes from the substance overpowering. I held down a gag, and silently thanked myself for not making time for a meal. Before I was completely within the painting, I noticed a flash of orange on the wall behind the Doctor.
The painting held bright tangerines and low hues of pumpkin. Lights flashed within the scene, and a central cylindrical mount was the focus of the setting. The console room.
The paint consumed us.
-----
A townhouse on a rainy night appeared ahead of us. The wind howled, making a river flow down the cobblestone street, icy water lapping at our ankles. Rain dribbled down our clothes, seeped in deep, and stained the water running away from us. Though, the hues were not bright blotches of green and blue and pink like the ribbons and flowers of the sunny wedding venue.
Bold gray, dull chartreuse and bright splotches of yellow instead covered our clothes. Yellow came from the single street lamp, illuminating the green copper roof and the stoop of the townhouse, where the woman and the wailing infant sat.
Despite the weather, the two sat completely still. She seemed to be rocking the baby back and forth, but to no avail. Although the two were motionless, the sound of the child echoed through the street. The longer we stood there, the screams only became louder, cutting straight through the sound of the wind and rain.
Rushing forward, the Doctor and I ducked through the rain and approached the woman, the screams of the baby growing louder and louder as we approached.
“We need to create a shock, right? To get her to talk?” I asked.
He gave me a nod. Against all my better judgement, I launched myself toward the woman, wrapped my arms tightly around the bundle, and tugged. The unnamed woman met us with wide, grief stricken eyes. Her neck snap crack snap-ped into motion, as though I had just awoken a statue, and her arms actively tightened around the baby. Her center curved back, crack crack crack, and her knees raised to her chin, cradling the baby. The mouth of the infant began to sync with the sound of its shrieks.
“No! Please don’t take her! Please!” she pleaded, shielding the child from us in an attempt to create distance. Tears rolled down her tan face, the light of the street paling her skin and giving her a particularly ghastly appearance.
“We’re not, we’re not!” I yelled, raising my hands in surrender, “We just want to help you.”
She sat silently, her arms wrapped tightly around the screaming bundle in her arms, scrutinizing our appearances.
“You’re lying.”
“We are absolutely telling you the truth,” said the Doctor, “but you’re not.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Doctor,” I warned.
He turned back to me, whispering, “She must be hiding something, and the fact that it has something to do with this child has me worried. Please, let me handle this.”
Reluctantly, I nodded my head, hoping that he would be patient with her.
“You’re lying,” he started, “about something. That’s why you’re here.”
“What do you mean I’m lying?” She yelled, and the baby only grew louder at the volume of her voice.
“Where are we right now?” I asked, attempting to defuse the situation slightly.
She squinted against the rain, looking around towards the door of the townhouse.
“This is my boss’ house! Although, I thought…”
“You were at a museum, right?” I asked, hoping to jog her memory.
“Yes!” She shouted over the storm, “I had taken Melanie out for a day trip.”
“Are you her mother?” The Doctor asked, and the woman shook her head no.
“I’m her babysitter!”
I gave the Doctor a knowing look. “What’s your name?”
“Cassandra.” She attempted to calm the baby once again, but the infant had begun to unravel its swaddle, the blankets falling onto Cassandra’s lap.
“Cassandra, I’m the Doctor and this is Y/n. You’re still at the museum to took Melanie to and you’re trapped in a painting.” Cassandra gaped at the two of us, but the Doctor trudged on. “Did you tell anybody that you were Melanie’s mother? Or even one of her family members?”
I watched as Cassandra’s face melted into realisation. “I- I did,” she admitted, “when we arrived, someone in line told me that she was a beautiful child and asked if she was mine. I said yes without thinking, but not for any malicious reason.”
Instantly, the two of them began melting into dull hues of paint, splashing down the stone steps of the building and washing down the street.
“Doctor, she wasn’t even really lying!” He stood silent, thinking. “If these ‘gods’ are trapping these people for lies, or untold truths, that means they could be trapping them for small things as well. Lies that don't even matter or lies that were mistakes!”
“For the gods of Tyoonibe, truth is incredibly black and white. There is no gray area where some lies are acceptable to tell.” He pushed his hair out of his face, soaked by the rain at this point.
“So what, we can’t stop them from doing this to people?”
“No, not unless we completely rewrite the ways in which this culture works which would be, frankly, unjustified and rude. It is not our place.”
“What can we do?” I asked, desperate to help. I crossed my arms around myself, trying desperately to trap my own body heat.
“We can help the people who are imprisoned right now, get them out, and try not to get trapped in a painting of our own.”
I thought back to the painting of the console room and shuddered. What is he hiding?
“Y/n, come along!” He motioned to the door at the top of the steps, the entrance now choked with darkness, the edges lined with ripped canvas.
Stepping through, we moved through the paint with more ease this time. The fumes still overwhelmed my senses, but in my control, I found the Doctor’s hand and grabbed on tight. We fell to the floor of the museum once again, and I shot up quickly, my eyes meeting the painting of the console room.
It was still there, unmoving, lifeless. Though, an invisible rope seemed to yank me in its direction.
I should tell him. “Doctor, there’s uh- there’s a pai-”
I was cut short by a pounding in the hallway. We ran to the double doors and ripped them open, finding Sybil nearly throwing her body against the entrance to the museum. Her grunts echoed off of the round, marble walls and high ceiling.
“Sybil, darling, please do be careful!” shrieked Villiam.
Rounding on him, Sybil barked, “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU, CHEATER!” Her round, red cheeks jiggled with each word, and Villiam nearly sank to the floor. From embarrassment or fear, I couldn’t be sure. They were no longer in their wedding attire, their clothes now appropriate for the anniversary they had attempted to celebrate.
Cassandra stood nearby with Melanie, the baby finally quiet and asleep. She looked up from the bundle, realizing we had entered the room amidst the chaos.
“Doctor, Y/n! You made it out too!”
“We’ve been able to freely move to whichever painting we pleased,” said the Doctor, “did you all end up here after you were freed?”
“No,” began Sybil, who spun around to face us. She spoke between deep, unsteady breaths, exhausted from her attempts to escape. “We ended up in the truth room and now we are trying to leave.”
Placing his hand on his chin and pacing around the room, the Doctor searched for what we could have missed. “We already freed everybody here, we’ve all admitted our truths, what am I missing? What am I missing?”
Growing frustrated, he let out a low grunt and slid down one of the marble walls. I stood away, looking at him expectantly. Though, I knew what the next step was. I knew why we couldn’t leave. I have to tell him, I have to tell him, I have to tell him.
“What?” he snapped, recognizing my stare. I winced at his tone, and his eyes softened. “Y/n, what?”
“Um,” I began, walking towards him slowly, “we have a painting.”
“We do?”
I shook my head slowly, and offered him my hand. Walking from the entrance hall and through the doors of limbo, I led him to the bright, frame canvas.
“It’s the TARDIS,” he said, “it has to be ours.”
“What are you hiding, Doctor?” I smiled at him slightly, asking in an almost playful way.
He returned the smile, though his voice was grave, “I should be asking you the same thing.”
With a squeeze of my hand and a deep breath in, we placed our hands on the rough canvas. The smell of paint overtook my senses once again, the slick, cold feel of it against my skin. Though this time, I could hear the hum of the TARDIS thrumming like a heartbeat, the smell of cold metal and tepid tea, long forgotten by the Doctor.
Stepping through the door of the TARDIS, the Doctor and I were no longer covered in paint, and our clothes had returned to a normal state.
He had his bowtie, suspenders, and leather shoes. I had my jeans, my sneakers, my favorite top. At least we would be comfortable for whatever was about to ensue.
“So,” hopping up to sit on the center console of the TARDIS, the Doctor watched me lovingly, amused, the orange glow of the room hitting the sharp angles of his face, “where do you want to start, Doctor?”
TO BE CONTINUED.
#eleventh doctor x reader#eleventh doctor imagine#eleventh doctor#the doctor#doctor who imagine#doctor who#the doctor imagine
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before i start, thank you so much for doing what you do;this blog has given me good advice countless times and i really have to thank you for that.
my issues with my parents are that they don't take me seriously. i can literally go up to them and say: "mom/dad, i think i might be autistic or have ADHD (both would be quite likely) can i get that checked out" and list a bunch of examples why i think that and they'll just be "nah, that can't be, you don't seem like that at all" as of i didn't break my mind over it researching it and talking to people who have it to see if we've had similar experiences just to get some kind of reference as to why i feel the way i feel and why i struggle so much with things that so many other people find so easy.
but then, in the following weeks and months (after talking w them) they just randomly point out things about me that kinda annoy them, like me talking out of turn a LOT or me not looking at people or me having trouble focusing if there isn't also music and a movie going at the same time or mom saying that i seem hyperactive to her because i'm always moving my legs or pacing around or rubbing my hands or drumming on the table with pens. things like that (plus a lot more) were the exact things i was telling them about and they just put it off like it's nothing but as soon as it affects and annoys them it's suddenly very real. at this point i'm struggling to talk to my parents about anything even remotely more serious than generic smalltalk and i'm having a hard time believing myself that my struggles are in fact real and i'm not just making them up.
and also on a less related note; the thing i hate most about my parents: if i'm wearing headphones and couldn't understand what a parent was yelling from somewhere else in the house then it's my fault. but if it's the exact same situation but i'm the one calling and they couldn't hear me, then it's obviously my fault too (i kinda get the first one but srsly how could i not wear headphones when they're constantly arguing with my brother in the room next to mine) (either way if one of the scenarios is clearly my fault, then the other shld be clearly their fault bc that's how logic works)
hhhh, this got quite long. i would love to hear your thoughts about this
a continuation from the other ask about my parents not taking me seriously even when i ask them for help with my hardest problems. that ask didn't really go in the direction i had planned but there is so much going on between my parents and me that i really need to talk to someone about
background: i'm around 15-16 rn and have a brother who's 18. primary school was academically very easy for me (lots and lots of great and even perfect grades) but my brother didn't have it as easy (lots and lots of mediocre and meh grades) so my parents really just kinda let me do my thing while they were constantly busy with my brother. so i got really independant and did all of my stuff on my own bc a) i always had done it that way and b) my parents were already busy and stressed. but after my brother got his first computer and got into video games his grades dropped and my parents started constantly arguing with him and taking away his computer and stuff like that so there was always a lot of tension (and i got to a point where i can't handle people yelling; that's what i was referring to with the headphone thingy at the end of the last ask) i don't know if i can go that far and say that my parents kinda neglected me and my emotional needs in favour of saving my brother grades but that's pretty much the way it feels.
i'm now a sophomore (school works a bit different here but i'm the equivalent of a highschool sophomore afaik, here it's just 10th grade) and starting from about mid 8th grade (end of 2018) i've been struggling a lot with self care and upkeep of my already minimal social circle and academic stuff (i'm at the academically highest level of school you could be at my age without skipping any years) and also mental health.
i got quite depressive and started isolating myself and casting away friends and my grades went down a lot, which really disappointed me because my great grades were kind of my trademark thing. but i didn't feel safe talking to my parents because of the huge distance that we built by me "never" needing their help with stuff.
in that time (almost a year ago, our anniversary is in twenty days or so) i got a girlfriend and i'm hella glad that i can talk to her about everything but i feel like i can't just go dump trauma and parent issues on her forever
about last november or so i was at a pretty low point and was suicidal and that's kind of when i snapped and went to my parents to talk so being cast away and having my issues invalidated really really hurt then and made me spiral even deeper and my gf was the only thing keeping me afloat.
i'm kind of a bit better now but i have rebuilt my view of my parents from "idk we never really interact" to "trying to interact or talk is not worth the energy" and needless to say i don't like them that much
oh and i forgot about all the times i got panic attacks and sensory overloads @ school because there are so many people there (1700 students + 200 teachers) and it's loud everywhere and of course asking my parents for what to do if suddenly everything is too bright and too loud and you can't move or talk because of it didn't get me anywhere (and since i didn't know what it was called or how to describe it properly, i didn't really find any Information online either
and just typing this makes me think of so many more things that they did that aren't okay things to do (a lot of gender identity stuff for example because i'm also neck-deep in that) . but writing this has also helped a lot right now. thank you for being there and listening.
and just in case i'm ever gonna pop back in to say something i'm gonna drop a name for easier identifying
sincerely - 🌌 milky way anon
Hi, nonnie! Thanks for the kind words, I'm really glad my blog has been of help ❤️
I'm sorry your parents are making it hard to believe your struggles are real :( you deserve to be taken seriously and to get access to all the help you might need. Just the fact your symptoms are there and you're noticing them and they're interfering with your daily life is enough to get them checked, regardless of if you need a diagnosis/meds/anything else. No one deserves to live wondering if their struggles are worth discussing with a doctor or professional.
And you're right: if one of those things was your fault, then the other should be theirs, logically. But I don't even think it's "your fault" you didn't hear them because you were wearing headphones, to be honest. I think it's just something that happens from time to time and that doesn't warrant getting mad over; I think it's the kind of thing that simply needs to be talked about so everyone in the household knows how to communicate with everyone else without getting frustrated. It's as easy as saying "hey, whenever I put on headphones I'll just text the family group chat to let you guys know I won't hear you. If you need anything in those moments, just text me instead". I do this with my girlfriend sometimes—if we're wearing headphones and we're in the same room, we simply pat each other when we need something and wait until the other takes off their headphones to talk. It really doesn't have to be an issue where anyone is to blame. You're allowed to take steps to feel safe and comfortable in your house without getting punished for it.
But, of course, this doesn't work if the people around you choose to prioritise "being right" and proving you're wrong over a peaceful and healthy cohabitation, which is what most toxic and abusive people do.
As for your second ask, I would say if it feels like your parents neglected you and your needs because they were always focusing on your brother, then it's okay to say that they did. The fact alone that those feelings are there makes you deserving of talking about it and wanting to heal from it; the cause of those feelings doesn't have to be something major, or sound deeply traumatising when you say it out loud, in order to "count". And people whose emotional needs were consistently met don't feel like they weren't.
I've already shared this video before, but if you want some resources on identifying and healing from emotional neglect, I really recommend watching it. Please bear in mind, though, that the video says it's important to not blame parents for emotionally neglecting you, but I don't think that's the message a lot of people need to hear and I think you should allow yourself to feel angry at your parents for not meeting your needs and causing you trauma. That's pretty much the only thing I'd criticise about the video.
I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling with your grades and mental health lately, nonnie. I had a quite similar experience when I was in high school—I used to always get great grades, but my mental health and trauma put a lot of strain on them (as well as on my social life; I lost a lot of friends in those years) and it was really distressing to see the only thing that made me "worthy" crumble between my fingers like that. I'm still trying to unlearn this idea that your grades define your worth, and it's been really hard.
I'm so sorry your parents weren't there for you when you hit that low 😔 I'm glad your girlfriend could help you stay afloat in that moment, but they absolutely should've been there for you all those times you reached out to them for help with your struggles, and the fact that they didn't is emotionally neglectful of them.
I'm glad you're in a better place now ❤️ I really hope you can find out all the information you need on gender identity and sensory overload and any other issues that might be affecting you. Know that you deserve for your parents to be there for you. You shouldn't have to face any of this on your own, or even with only the support of other people your age. You deserve for them to care. You deserve to have your symptoms checked out. You deserve adult guidance to find resources to help you better understand and manage your struggles.
Sending all my virtual support your way ❤️ and happy belated anniversary to you and your girlfriend!
#Ask#milky way anon#Abuse#Abuse tw#Abusive parents#Toxic parents#Ableism tw#I'm not from the US either so I have no idea what a sophomore is hahaha#Emotional neglect tw#childhood emotional neglect#panic attacks tw#Suicidal tw
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Hey,
I need advice please, I get really angry at small things like someone ignoring or not giving me something back in time or something small or sometimes for no reason at all,
I say mean things to them or ignore them, or glare at them but I'm worried that I might hurt someone and I don't want to hurt someone
whenever I get angry I have this urge to harm myself or someone like smashing their head or mine.
sometimes I get angry at myself and smash my head against something,
I don't want to be like this I want to change please help,
Hey,
Most of my system has struggled with this same experience for years. We're finally at a point where this is improving for us and we're able to go back to mistakes we've made and try to make amends for them. I'm glad to be able to answer this one for you.
I ended up writing a lot out, so I'm going to toss it under a read more.
I want to start with reassurance. If you hurt someone, that won't be the end of the world. While hurting people is never okay and you should do what you can to avoid it, people are messy. Sometimes we hurt each other. Sometimes our emotions get the best of us. If it happens, do your best to come back to the person/people and apologize and make a point to do better from there. I know it's scary, but mistakes happen while we're growing. It sounds like you've been doing a great job of not hurting anyone so far. I'm proud of you.
Also, I want you to know that you're not bad for your anger. Your rage doesn't make you bad. Anger is an emotion and it almost always comes from being hurt in the past. When you're in a healthy place with yourself, your anger is a signal that something is wrong or painful. It's a reminder from yourself that you don't deserve to be hurt.
I also want you to know that having thoughts about hurting yourself or others doesn't make you bad or dangerous either. Intrusive thoughts are really common. Having those thoughts doesn't mean that you will act on them. Thoughts are just thoughts. They can be scary and distressing, but they're only thoughts. You control your actions, you get to choose.
Now, for my advice. I think the first thing is to try to find something to channel your destructive energy into.
Buy some magazines at the store and when you get angry, tear or cut them into shreds. (Better yet, take a moment to physically write out what you're angry about and then tear or cut that up.)
Go out to a nearby stream or river and throw rocks into it, as hard and as far as you can.
When you're driving alone (if you drive), just yell, scream, be loud.
If you work out, go for a run or see if there's a gym nearby where you could learn to box.
If you can, call a friend and rant to them about what's going on.
Get some painting supplies and create something. It can be splatters, it can be highly detailed, it can just be shapes and colors. It will be yours.
Find something that's going to be able to vent the energy behind your anger, because after you have something to help you release that energy, it's going to be easier. And knowing that you have a vent will also help you stay calm in the moment because you'll know that you have tools to work through it later.
The second thing I recommend is to try to start recognizing thought distortions. (I'll link an article that goes into this better than I'll be able to at the end of this post.) A lot of the time when I get into that rage mode, I have to stop myself in the moment and try to figure out where my thinking is distorted. I think a lot of my anger triggers fall into the categories of control fallacies and fallacies of fairness, but in general, I also have issues with blaming [others for my emotions], overgeneralization, and catastrophizing.
I have to slow down and figure out which thought distortion is happening so that I can try to ground myself in the reality of the situation instead of getting lost in my anger. I used Woebot (an app that I believe is available and free on both ios and Android) to start to build up some basic CBT skills before I was able to access therapy. It was very helpful for me to start to check and identify which thought distortions I was experiencing in the moment. (I think DBT is exceptionally helpful for what you're experiencing. If you're not able to access DBT therapy currently, though, this is a good place to try to start!)
As a subpoint to that, when I'm already too angry to be able to calmly recognize and challenge my thoughts, I simply tell myself: "It's okay for me to be mad. I'm entitled to my emotions. I'm allowed to be angry. But I am not allowed to take my anger out on others, make my anger someone else's problem, or make others uncomfortable because I'm angry. My anger is not an excuse to be hurtful to other people." And it might read/feel harsh, but when I am having a rage response, it is the reminder that I personally need to hear. It might help to try to adapt it. After telling myself this, I stop to breathe for a moment and then correct what thoughts I can. This is my flashing red light for myself to control my anger.
Third, try to reflect on why the things that trigger you do. Why does being ignored trigger your anger? For me, it triggers my anger because it triggers my fears of abandonment and neglect that stem from childhood trauma. So I spend time working through the underlying fears to indirectly cause the anger to lessen. It also helps me be able to catch myself in the moment and recognize that I'm not necessarily angry at the person who's doing something, but afraid of being hurt again and angry at my abusers for hurting me when I was a child. Does that make sense? I highly recommend journaling to help you keep track of this and to give you a safe place to vent about all of it.
And my final piece of advice is to consider medication, if you can. I'm on a mood stabilizer right now and it helps to basically "cap off" my heightened responses (especially my rage responses) as well as helping me to keep moving through my mood drops. You would have to consult your doctor about this, though, and see what works for you. And it's okay if it's not possible right now or you just don't want to medicate- there's plenty of skills to build up instead.
Please make sure that you're taking care of yourself after you hurt your head or any other part of your body ❤ Try to redirect that energy into one of the things I listed earlier on in the post.
And remember that you are capable of growing past this. I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help with this. You're on the right track.
Mod L
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