#it’s SO clever I will write an essay about it if anyone asks
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Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist
Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.
An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.
Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.
The Beginning
At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.
Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:
How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?
Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?
Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?
Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?
Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow
Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.
Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".
The Pearl in The Bottle
So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?
What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence
A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.
What's Wrong With the Guards?
Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?
Paul McCartney
This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.
Salazar
I am confused. Once again, I have questions.
El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?
The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?
Poseidon or Calypso?
What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.
The Compass
This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.
That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.
So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.
That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate
Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.
Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.
Justice for Hector Barbossa
If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".
So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.
Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.
I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.
How does Carina Smyth exist?
Let's do the math. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.
When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;
it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.
The Post-Credit Scene: What?
WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.
My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.
Imago
#potc#pirates of the caribbean#potc analysis#dead men tell no tales#analysis#media analysis#pirates#jack sparrow#hector barbossa#carina smyth#henry turner#elizabeth swann#will turner#calypso#davy jones#salazar
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Knöve storytelling are SO smart for modernising gothic novels to true crime podcast in the context of Northanger Abbey
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you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)
part i: and while you were asleep, i was surely awake
james potter x reader // read it on AO3
word count: 2.8k
summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”
tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader
author's notes: hii y'all, sorry for not posting in a year :P my only excuse is that i didn't feel like taking the energy to actually write out my story ideas. also perfectionism. anyway i somehow wrote this in two hours while procrastinating my college app essays and have plans to make this a multi-chapter fic despite intending to write an angsty oneshot request for a completely different fandom (i see you, beloved anons, and i raise you this completely unrelated fic <3)… the brain of a writer works in mysterious ways.
read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)
You were in love with James Potter.
It was a fact of life, just like how the sky was blue, or that his favorite dessert was treacle tart, or that you were the only person he’d ever let see him cry besides his mother. You’d loved him from the moment you met him on the train to Hogwarts as a shy, anxious muggleborn unsure of the new world of magic and prejudice you’d been thrown into without so much as a warning. He hadn’t cared at all about your blood status- didn’t even think to ask about it. He had launched himself into your compartment and began talking at you a mile a minute, beaming with every tooth showing once he found out you were hoping to get into Gryffindor, his hazel eyes alight with the joy of making a new friend. And friends indeed you had become; you were proud to remember that you’d known him before Sirius or Remus or Peter did, though it took only an instant after the Sorting for him to become best mates with the rest of them, too.
You and James were inseparable from that moment on, giggling at Professor Binns’ failure to notice Sirius’ antics in the back of class and reassuring each other when home seemed too far away for comfort. He stole sweets from the Slytherin table for you at meals, and you covered for him when the teachers almost caught him pranking Snape– after all, who would believe that sweet, innocent Y/n would ever be involved in such shenanigans? The soft-spoken demeanor and love of everything pastel you’d thought would eventually oust you from the close-knit Gryffindor boys’ group proved to be quite the useful asset when affirming their ‘innocence’.
Not that they only wanted you around because you were helpful, of course. You had quite the talent for exaggerating stories until even Sirius fell off his seat laughing in disbelief, and your creative mind made for some glorious pranks and entertaining mistakes. Peter would blush for an hour straight if anyone mentioned The Great Plum Pudding Incident of Christmas 1974, all thanks to your clever meddling. And Remus– well, he was eternally grateful for your mother-henning during the worst of his moon cycles. You’d been the first to figure out his “furry little problem”, and upon learning that enjoying chocolate was his favorite method of escapism, showed up every month without fail with an armful of Honeydukes sweets. The little ways in which you loved each Marauder meant the world to them. They would do anything to protect you and make sure you were okay, James most of all. You often teased James that he was more bodyguard than friend, with his deep glares at too-forward Hufflepuff boys masking the big softie you knew he was underneath. You remembered fondly the summer days he spent chasing you around your house, scaring your mother half to death with his colander-and-pot ‘armor’ as he declared that as a chivalrous knight, he was meant to save Princess Y/n from the terrible Acromantula King. Privately, you thought James had a few too many Arthurian legends for bedtime stories as a child, but what could you do?
Even now, as sixth years, the bond between you and James never changed, your love for him ever-growing. Your heart melted every time you glanced over your shoulder in the hallway, only to find him chatting softly with a sniffling first-year and guiding them to Professor Sprout’s office for a hot cuppa and a biscuit. You cheered at his Quidditch victories and were euphorically lifted up onto his broad shoulders afterward, whooping as he galavanted through the common room in celebration. You were there when he needed a shoulder to cry on when his grandfather died, softly stroking his hair as he fell asleep in your lap with tear tracks still running down his face. And he adored you in return– braiding your hair while you worked on Herbology essays, racing you on his beloved broom when you stayed with him during the summer, distracting you from your rants about Slughorn’s unfair grading with a trip to the kitchens and a blissfully soft blanket.
James was your lifeline and you his– and nothing in the world could change that.
Except, perhaps, one tiny little complication. A complication with vibrant red hair, sparkling green eyes, and a natural affinity for Potions. A complication that had sparked your jealousy since the first time you noticed James glancing dreamily at Lily Evans in second year Transfiguration, jealousy that had only gotten worse with his grand declarations of love every week. He’d begun to announce his affection for the muggleborn to anyone who would listen in third year, and it didn’t stop there. No, when James Potter loved someone, he loved hard, and that meant that you had to watch as beautiful bouquets appeared on Lily’s nightstand nightly while the rest of the girls in your dorm whispered and swooned. You were a wallflower when he sighed about how lovely her skin was and how bloody talented she was at everything she did during one of your late-night chats in the common room, curling in on yourself with every word he spoke. When he asked her to Hogsmeade the first time (and the second, and the third, and the fiftieth), you observed as she rolled her eyes and shoved past him, despite the small smile on her face.
It wasn’t that Lily wasn’t smart or pretty or talented– far from it. She deserved every good Potions grade she got, and even the pureblood Slytherins begrudgingly noted how she was the darling of Hogwarts society. But you thought that the way she treated your best friend, refusing his advances quite harshly but sending him flirtatious glances and making a show of wearing his flowers in her hair, was rather unkind and misleading. She had James wrapped around her little finger and didn’t seem to want to let go of his attention anytime soon, despite Snape’s protests about how much time he was spending with her. You disliked Severus, but didn’t think he deserved Lily’s bad treatment either. Sometimes you’d see him staring at James and Lily deep in conversation, and shoot him a glance of communal disappointment– before realizing who you were sharing the moment with and resuming an expression of disgust, at least.
At first, you ignored your growing angst about his new obsession, chalking it up to sleep deprivation, stress over your upcoming exams, and even your monthly. But when you started to run out of excuses for the despair slowly overtaking your heart and flashes of his dark curls began to appear in your sweetest dreams, you were forced to admit that your feelings for James ran much deeper than a platonic friendship. From the way he spun you around in the snow to the way he snorted at Remus’ awful puns, you were head-over-heels smitten with your best friend.
The way he’d filled out since the end of fourth year hadn’t escaped your notice, either; you were pretty sure that his pecs should be considered a traffic hazard, with the way you’d fallen flat on your face after seeing him shirtless after a match. He’d rushed over to clean up every one of your injuries, of course, with a touch so gentle it released a whole menagerie of butterflies in your stomach. You’d barely managed to mumble a coherent thank-you before sprinting to take a very cold shower and scream into your pillow with embarrassment. How on earth did Lily Evans even think around him?!
Alas, you’d read your fair share of romance novels, and you knew how this story would end. Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.
That was the state Sirius found you in, broody and lost in thought in a quiet corner of the library. He grinned rakishly, planting a well-polished boot on a nearby chair and leaning over to tap your forehead. “Lots going on in there today, huh?”
You snapped out of your daze and smiled sheepishly up at him. “Sorry, Siri, didn’t mean to ignore you. Just, er, thinking about my Potions essay, do you know how many uses there are for mandelwort? Quite fascinating plants, hones–”
Sirius winced and slid back far across the table. “Oh, no, you are not discussing horrid Potions work with me today when there are so many other wonderful topics.” He gestured to a table of swooning fifth-years gazing dreamily at his backside. “For example, those lovely ladies,” he crooned, sending an exaggerated wink towards them and smirking when they sighed.
You wrinkled your nose and scoffed. “Oh, please, as if I haven’t heard enough about your conquests already. I’m already scarred for life from your stories about that Belgium Veela, let alone the muggle sailor you nearly broke the Statute of Secrecy for.”
He waved a hand, dismissing your allegations of the mental injury caused by his excruciating attention to sordid detail when slightly tipsy in the common room. You made a mental note to charm his shampoo to turn his hair bright lavender for the next week for that little snub. Although, being Sirius, he’d probably just use it as an excuse to sway the rest of the Hogwarts population into going to Hogsmeade with him. “Ah, but darling Y/n, that’s what I’m here for!” He furrowed his brow and stroked his chin in mock consideration. “However, I can’t seem to recall a time when you–” here he poked you in the cheek for emphasis– “confessed to a little tete-a-tete in the hallway. Ever. Which means we have a problem,” he grinned.
You felt rather like prey being hunted for sport. “That would be because I’m not interested in anyone, you dolt!” Crossing your arms, you turned your face back towards your homework. Maybe if you denied romantic interest for long enough, Sirius would leave you alone and go flounce off to flirt with the noisy table of fourth years. “Anyway, I heard Marlene’s been circling Dorcas like a lovesick pigeon lately, so perhaps you should be putting your matchmaking efforts to her benefit instead.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “C’mon doll, I know you weren’t actually thinking about Potions when I arrived. Who’s the lead actor in those fantasies, mm?” He snatched up your favorite pink gel pen, twirling around his fingers as he looked at you expectantly.
Drat. He wouldn’t be so easily distracted with the latest gossip. You opened your mouth to protest yet again when you caught a flash of red over Sirius’ artfully tousled locks. You watched as James strode up to the alcove where Lily and her friends were studying, transfigured a sheet of parchment into a butterfly clip and held it out to her with a grin. Her laughter pealed out through the library as she let him lean over her shoulder to place it in her hair. He seemed oblivious to the titters of the girls around him while he gazed at Lily adoringly. You felt your heart clench as you recognized the expression on his face; you’d seen it on your own in the mirror after spending time with James, after all. And it seemed like maybe Lily was finally starting to be swayed into accepting his starry-eyed proposals, if the pretty blush on her cheeks was anything to go by.
Sirius tracked your despairing gaze to the couple and immediately paled in realization. “Oh, shit.”
Shit, indeed. Your face turned bright red as you scrambled to pack your bag and leave the area as fast as you possibly could, not sure how you could face Sirius knowing your deepest secret now. The boy had no self-control, fueling the Hogwarts gossip mill with the wild stories he overheard, and he had even less discretion when confessing things to his friends around the common room fire. It’s no wonder he wound up in Gryffindor, you thought miserably. There’s no way he’d be able to keep a secret like the rest of the Slytherins, and definitely not from James. It would only be a matter of time before he let it slip about your feelings to the rest of the Marauders, and— well, you’d just have to face losing your best friend for good once he heard.
Sirius broke your train of thought by wrapping his hands around yours, looking up at you with concern. “Hey, doll, wait— I didn’t know—“
You sniffed and wiped the tears threatening to fall from your eyes away fiercely. “That’s exactly it, Sirius, you didn’t know because you won’t be able to keep it from James.”
He looked guiltily down at the table. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit of a git with keeping things private lately, yeah?”
You nodded, covering your face with your hands. Sirius reached out, placing them back down on the table, and softly said, “Listen, I shouldn’t have pried so hard. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” He broke off, pausing to scramble for a handkerchief from his bag to wipe off your rapidly disintegrating mascara. “And I promise not to breathe a word of this to James,” he finished.
You looked up at him, startled. “Are you serious?” At his answering grin, you groaned. “Don’t answer that. But really, are you sure that you’ll be able to resist telling him everything?” You fiddled with the now-soiled handkerchief and whispered, “You two are so close, I don’t want to drive you apart. If James thought you were hiding something important from him, it would destroy him,” you sniffed.
He frowned. “Doll, you know you’re just as important as James is to me, right?” At your answering slump, his jaw clenched and he continued on with more intensity. “You’re like my sister, Y/n, there’s nothing you could do to make me care for you less. Especially not asking for your privacy. Clearly, I haven’t been treating you as well as you deserve if you doubt that.”
He walked around and took a seat in the armchair next to you, pulling you in to lean on his shoulder. “And I can be discreet, you know. I might not show it often, but growing up in a family of the most intensely secretive purebloods ever to exist taught me a few things.” You glanced at him doubtfully, the tiny quirk of your mouth the only sign that you were joking. “Hey, I’m being serious!” He laughed, then quieted suddenly. “This thing with James— you really love him, don’t you?”
You gave him an exasperated look out of the corner of your eye. Sirius released a breath and gazed deeply into the space in front of him. “Hey, we’ll figure this out together, okay?” He poked you in the side. “If he’s too focused on the smell of Evans’ hair or whatever to see that he already has the perfect girl in front of him, he’s not as smart as you think he is.” You giggled slightly, his words warming you. Sirius smiled, happy to see you cheering up a bit.
“Why don’t we go raid the kitchens? The coolest person I know once told me that elf-crafted mint chocolate chip ice cream is the best way to heal a broken heart,” he teased. You groaned, remembering how you’d told him that as a last resort to get him to stop complaining about how he missed his sailor ex-boyfriend every time you two went to Hogsmeade. At least your random advice wound up benefiting you now, you thought as you collected the last of your stationery and exited the library.
Neither you nor Sirius saw how James watched you smile up at Sirius as you walked away, holding his arm and laughing loudly at something he muttered. Anna Dumotier, a Hufflepuff fifth-year and one of Lily’s friends, would remember later that night how he seemed to tune out Lily’s voice for a moment and stared at the doors to the library with a strange expression on his face. His brows were furrowed like he was trying to decipher the answer to an unfamiliar puzzle, his eyes widened with confusion and a glint of something she could only identify as jealousy before Lily brought him back to the conversation with a graceful flip of her hair. But no— she shook her head— that couldn’t be right. What could James possibly be jealous of when he finally had the girl of his dreams in his arms?
taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl
comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)
read on: part ii
#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#sirius black#bisexual sirius black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#marlene mckinnon#dorcas meadowes#fem reader#best friends to lovers#friends to lovers#marauders#marauders x y/n#lily evans#harry potter#hp fandom
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Extending heartfelt apologies to anyone who happened to see my reposts of Clementine Morrigan's writings over the past few days.
As a messy, traumatized Harpy committed to honoring all peoples' baseline humanity regardless of what they've done --as well as someone whose lifelong CPTSD is sssllloooowwwllllyyy healing as I embrace personal accountability, avoid B&W thinking, and extend grace and compassion to myself and others-- I was taken in by a lot of what Morrigan says about encouraging non-punitive modalities. I reposted her words without learning how she herself is actively complicit in perpetuating ongoing harm to others in leftist and liberal spheres, especially as the popularity of her podcast FUCKING CANCELLED grows.
In retrospect, I see that I was moved by Morrigan's writings primarily because they're a clever, zinger-filled repackaging of more genuine and nuanced essays penned by others. Namely, by queer Black folks and other more sophisticated and culturally rooted voices.
When I posted Morrigan's stuff, I had no idea about her partner Jay Manicom's forceful silencing of several BIPOC peers and partners they'd allegedly abused and made no amends to. I didn't realize that Morrigan was publicly weaponizing abolitionist and twelve-step language in order to defend Manicom's alleged ongoing violence and harm. Said harm includes sending legal threats to several survivors, femme PoC, after they'd repeatedly asked him to join them in a circle to hash things out. When these folks spoke out about their experiences, both Manicom and Morrigan were quick to frighten, shame, and silence them. (Even while simultaneously decrying similar acts perpetrated against credibly alleged serial perpetrators! Try to make it make sense!)
Comparing "cancel culture" to the carceral state by using appropriated language and concepts that Black and Indigenous activists have been cultivating and nurturing for centuries is not an approach I want to lend any credibility to. It's DARVO. White femme DARVO. That's messed up.
When a popular, charismatic young white woman, a self-described "powerhouse" and "controversial public figure", goes so far as to compare survivors' requests for basic accountability and community-wide responsibility to "acting like a cop", there's some straight-up pastel Q-Anon dog whistle "Guru Jagat" horseshit goin' down.
Recently, I observed Morrigan on a panel with several other speakers, all healers from various lineages whom I admire and trust. I enjoyed their talks a lot. But in spite of my initial enthusiasm for Morrigan's breezy social media writings, as soon as she launched into her very polished, practiced lip service to radical compassion and acceptance, red flags started popping up for me. BIG Russell Brand energy. (And most of you already know how I feel about THAT righteous broheim. I've been roasting him years.)
Observing Morrigan's onscreen presentation, my curiosity died almost instantly. I won't say I was shocked by her performativity. I did experience rolling waves of nausea. Whether it's a fair assessment or not, I parsed her almost instantly as yet another cult-of-personality cultivator who is using hierarchical tactics to center the comfort and safety of active, unapologetic abusers ahead of everyone else. Not okay. She may have the best intentions in the world, but NO THANK YOU.
Morrigan's particular approach to justice is not what I'm about. If it were, I'd still be hanging out with a whole lot of sketchy af people I met in various green rooms over the years and making a whole lot more money while we all dance together around similar cognitive dissonance in our professional lives as celebrities, pundits, and "righteous" preachers. Again, no thank you.
I wanted to fast-forward through Morrigan's portion of the presentation, but gritted my teeth through it out of respect for the panel's curator. The wild thing is, on paper, I agree with *so much of what she says*! Still, something felt very, very off. So I went and read up further, and finally understood why my heart was sinking, my stomach, churning.
I wholeheartedly respect that the healers who invited Morrigan onto this panel have a different, more generous perception of her. I'm not making this post to demonize or dehumanize Morrigan, her partner, her friends, her listenership, or anyone else who leans into ye olde "hurt people hurt people" tenets in order to make sense of various horrors committed by them or to them.
However, the FUCKING CANCELLED fan club is most assuredly not something I want to give my time, energy, or trust to any more than I would Amanda Palmer's, or Rosie O'Donnell's, or Rose McGowan's, or Lena Dunham's, or Asia Argento's, etc.
My casual shares of Morrigan's work were a mistake. Consider this post a personal retraction. If there are further reparations I should consider, please let me know. Especially if you're a transformative justice buddy who has been quietly observing my promotions of her and feelin' barfy because of it!
Please, please know that I wouldn't have boosted her bandwidth so blithely, had I dug a bit deeper. I hope no one was too hurt or freaked out by my ignorant shares.
My apologies and my love. In solidarity. May all beings be free from suffering. Ashe.
#Clementine Morrigan#Jay Marquis-Manicom#Jay LeSoleil#transformative justice#abolition#anti-racist#FUCKING CANCELLED
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Hello,
Sorry about this essay entering your inbox and this certainly isn’t me disagreeing with you, or any criticism, more of an addition.
I wanted to add another perspective to your thoughts on Crowley, his flaws and how S2 may change his and Aziraphale’s relationship.
They are very human flaws, and seemingly unique and important to him as a demon. As Aziraphale’s flaws are unique and important to him as an Angel.
From what we’ve heard of pre fall crowley, he didn’t give Aziraphale much thought on their first meeting. Also, it sounds as if Crowley was somebody important in Heaven. And from what we know of high ranking angels - they are callous, unforgiving, unfeeling and the boss everyone dislikes. This appears to be Heaven’s idea of a good Angel, given their responses to Aziraphale ‘the traitor.’
Crowley, to me, sounds he was doing his job, well in the eyes of head office. He was just another high ranking angel getting on with it. Not a nice/good person from a human perspective but, if anything, flawless from Heaven’s perspective.
That was until he started asking questions, hanging around with the wrong people and sauntered vaguely downwards. Then he and Aziraphale met again, with Crowley now the ‘lesser’ being. Good triumphs over evil, surely? And this Angel he has met shouldn’t give him the time of day, like Crowley didn’t to a ‘lesser’ angel (can you imagine, if he remembers, how guilty Crowley probably now feels about this.)
But Aziraphale listens to his prattling about the tree and the flaws in God’s plans, engages with him and then shelters him. This angel has feelings, he is different, he cares about others. He gave away his flaming sword and indulges in gross matter- moves that make him a flawed angel in the eyes of Heaven.
Endearingly, Aziraphale is a well intentioned bitch.
And with Crowley possibly doing good with the whole eat the apple business and later kindness, he is a flawed demon in Hell’s view. Hell’s requirements of a good employee are cruelty, wickedness and finding murder a fun activity on a wet Wednesday afternoon.
But, kindly, Crowley is a daft, soft cockblanket.
And it’s what I feel GO is about. Balance between good and evil, finding your own side and not always becoming what others intended you to become.
Each of them stand out from their original sides because of their complexity and flaws, which is why they fit and work so well together, and have been able to for 6000 years. Neither is perfect and neither is horrible, and any criticisms they can find in the other also exists in themselves. Seemingly the only two entities like this- with possible exceptions - so they know they need each other. They’re the only two that can truly empathise with one another.
I don’t necessarily excuse these flaws and mistakes (pre-fall classism, the bandstand, I’m the nice one, how can someone as clever as you be so stupid and so on) but they can be explained. And a relationship is about how you move through your mistakes and flaws together, not being free of them.
If this has made no sense I apologise. I do struggle with expressing my own views. 💛
hellooooo @ezra-fell!!!✨✨
gOSH yes this is an essay but fuck if im not gonna do my best to provide you with a response worthy of your message!!!!
i will just start by saying i don't think any one person's opinion or perspective is correct per se, i certainly don't think mine is flawless, but it is kind of what i feel could at least possibly be a theme in s2 or even s3 or just in general, and if it isn't cool, it will firmly remain a hc and im happy with that!!!
for anyone reading, i will just reiterate once again that im not here to cause argument or discourse, i literally just write unhinged ramblings about these characters (both of whom i love DEARLY and are v important to me for various reasons), and yeah my opinion is NOT correct by any stretch, but it's AN opinion✨💓
going into a cut because my answer will probably be just as lengthy!
totally agree with you on everything you've said about crowley. i do not for one sec think that his character as an angel is like an issue (other than being a bit of a knob but as you said, if he's an Archangel or lesser Archangel (ie like sandalphon), then yes this characterisation makes perfect sense and is awesome in terms of how his character changes when he becomes a demon)
i also completely agree on your point about it being about balance (literally just talked about this in another post im going meta-feral at the mo), i do think thats the main theme of the story. i guess what i was trying (and failing) to say is that aziraphale's view of crowley might possibly be an entirely human one.
let's get personal bc at this point bc i can't speak from everyone elses perspective - ive been aziraphale in this scenario (the scenario i put forward in my post from earlier). ive been in a long term relationship, and had a major incident happen about 18 months ago. that person is who i loved and cherished more than anyone in the world, but after a lot of therapy and a lot of communication, i realised that whilst i loved them and thought they were absolute perfection, flaws and all, i had placed them on a pedestal of who i thought they were and who i wanted them to be.
so obvs with aziraphale his faith is very literal (i have no religious faith), but my faith in my person was so unquestionable and unyielding, that i also ended up hurting myself (emotionally, no CWs here!!) to find out that the flaws that i had idolised and thought were perfect actually came around to bite me in the ass, and honestly? at the time, i didn't like what i found. i still loved that person, still found them attractive and lovely etc, but my faith in them was completely shattered, and i hadn't realised until that point that love and faith are completely different things. i had initially believed that in being with someone, the two were synonymous. they aren't.
now sorry to get so personal on main lmao, and i realise that this may well be a great deal of projection of myself into aziraphale (don't we all do that tho???) and i truly recognise that, but it just feels to me that this 'reckoning' that's coming -- whilst it might not be entirely what ive said (id be utterly flabbergasted if it was) -- might be something similar. i want the boys to be happy and together and unassailable as much as the next person, but somehow i feel like we'll need to wait for s3 for that dream to be completely realised, and for the boys to take each other as they are, not as they thought they saw them initially. i hope im wrong, we'll just have to see.
i hope that's an appropriate answer to your ask, but tldr i agree with everything you said, i just have limits as to how much i necessarily discuss in one post haha!!!✨💓💓
#good omens#good omens season 2#crowley#aziraphale#shit me that was personal im so sorry everyone#woweeeeeeee#good omens spoilers#good omens 2 spoilers#ask#personal#edit 23/07: turns out i do NOT have limits on how much i put in one post#im a bald faced liar
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Hello ❤️ Book ask game!
1, 10, 11, 48 👀👀
1.what is the best book you have ever read?
So listen. Listen to me. I have been plugging The Vampire Tapestry to literally anyone who will listen to me ever since I read it. And I will do it again. I cannot express how hard to put down this book was for me (and for someone who is primarily a film/television consumer and an adhd bitch to boot? that says a lot). There are so many things about this book that make my brain go brrr from the atypical vampire narrative (featuring a dilf vampire- and you don't see a lot of those-whose condition is more biological than fantastical, but is nonetheless a complicated mess of a creature), to a really clever drawing back of the curtain and critique of the very genre it's meant to portray, and I literally don't think I'll ever be over it. I almost wanted to kiss my professor on the mouth for assigning this book (but I didn't). I still think about it constantly and I will never stop.
10. what book are you reading right now?
I'm... actually reading several in a very asynchronous way. Of course I'm about 100 pages deep into the terror rn, I'm also working my way through May We Be Spared to Meet On Earth (collection of correspondence from members of the franklin expedition- which I'm certain was study material for some of the actors bc I feel like a lot of the letters in that are so clearly reflected in the characters on the show moreso than they are in the book- and honestly every single fucking letter from Francis Crozier is a heartwarming delight deadass). I'm not reading so much this semester but I'll be reading throughout the semester Miyazakiworld: A Life in Art (and it's had some really fascinating little anecdotes so far).
11. what book do you want to read but haven't?
I honestly want to read more stuff from Miss Charnas. She fucking understood the assignment on so many levels with Vampire Tapestry that I really want to look into more of her. Ofc I have a ton of Jane Austen and Jane Eyre that are burning a hole in my bookshelf, and a little volume of the Lais of Marie de France that I want to take a more proper gander at. These. And so. SO. Many more. OH AND I FORGOT I also have been dipping my toes into historical erotica like Fanny Hall and it’s been tons of fun (and if anyone has some specific victorian recommendations I would LOVE to receive them- it’s VERY important lady terror research 😉).
48. what book would you give someone if they wanted a glimpse into your psyche?
I really do hate to answer Edgar Allan Poe again BUT!!! in specific- I think anyone who wants to understand me and my approach to my writing and stuff? Look no further than The Philosophy of Composition. You wouldn't expect EAP to be such a brilliant essayist as he is but jesus christ I still think it may be the most fascinating and engaging essay I've ever read in my life. He articulates his points so poetically and so well and honestly? There's not a word in that essay that doesn't ring true for me to a lot of how I process things myself in my own writing- and things that are generally just great writing practice- like when I read it for the first time a few years ago I literally went "he's just like me fr" and I've felt soul bonded to the thing ever since. I also gave a presentation on it in my Gothic Lit class last semester that everybody really really liked (and of course. because I really REALLY fucking love this essay and this dude). And honestly I'd love to give that lecture again and I hope I get to.
BOOK ASK BAIT
#ask games#seriously tho EAP invented the screenwriting manual also in that essay literally several decades before film was even invented#I will never not be flabbergasted by the man#also lmao people I've talked to about tvt iykyk. But to those who haven't: just try not picturing Jared Harris as Weyland. I dare you.
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https://www.tumblr.com/alottamoney/724270852218159104/none-of-this-negates-what-jk-said-to-tkkrs-what
You’re being obtuse, anon, the only reason JK picked those comments is because he knew exactly where Tae was and that they were going to surprise Army. Tae didn’t save anyone from anything because it was always meant as a joke, otherwise it would’ve gone unsaid.
The way shippers portray their own faves, do you guys even like these men? Because say what they will about supporting or not supporting, they’ve been through shit together for a decade and are clearly still spending time together offcam so they must at least respect each other.
Admin was clever enough to tell that it was ooc of JK to do that, and she was 100% right.
I feel like I’m turning into that jikook anon writing essays, but for god’s sake, these asks are making these men out to be hateful for no reason. Like I get saying shit without context, but you got the context now, you can’t still be this dimwitted (I don’t mean you admin, love you 🫶)
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I’ve seen all sorts of posts about what people miss about fandom in ‘the old days’ and ‘old time fanfiction’, so I thought I’d do one myself. You know what I miss?
I miss the threat of cease and desist orders.
And before you go “Ah, yes, another post on how we were getting away with so much!” let me stop you right there by pointing out: we weren’t getting away with shit. Anne Rice made that very, very clear. Everything that we ‘got away with’ we ‘got away with’ because the creators themselves supported fan fiction or, at the very least, didn’t bother to come after us. Anyone who decided to shut us down had but to call their lawyers and we were toast.
So what was so good about that, you ask? What was good about the continual worry that it would all go south? If we weren’t part of the Glorious Rebellion Against The Creator?
One word: Manners.
The rest of the fandom could be as nasty a bunch of bullies as they liked. They could write essays on how their high school physics instructor told them it was impossible to fly on a magic broomstick and how that knowledge made them so superior. They could bully actors into giving up their careers or, better yet!, contemplate suicide. They could be as intolerant and unforgiving and demanding as they liked, but the writers?
We had to at least pretend to respect the creators and view them as actual people. We needed our disclaimers saying “I own nothing except my student debts and a pile of dirty laundry! Please, oh creator, do not break me open like a bag of groceries and dance on my sticky bones!” No, really, those were things people actually said in their disclaimers. We needed those to keep ourselves safe.
Unlike the rest of the fandom, we could not take that safety for granted. We couldn’t afford it. Thought something should have been done differently? “I get where the author was going with this, but I’d have like to have seen it done this way instead”. Thought a scene would have been more interesting from the view of a side character rather than the main? “I thought I’d explore this through the eyes of John Doe over here.” We could still write everything we do now, and for all of the same reasons, but we could not get away from the fact that the creator was a human being who had reached into their skull and pulled out something that inspired us.
It protected us in other ways too. When people came at us complaining that fan fiction was disrespectful to the author, we had a thesis paper’s worth of disclaimers: disclaimers thanking the author for their work; disclaimers promising the reader that we were just having fun; disclaimers saying in plain words that this was not to be taken seriously, but was written as finals-week-therapy at three-bloody-am. Even the people who were lying in their disclaimers, who really did look on the creators as the lowest form of life, had to pretend to have respect and that, in turn, made sure they could never completely overlook the truth of the matter: without the creator, they wouldn’t have anything to write about.
We were Emperors and the threat of a law suit was the man following us in the parade, whispering in our ears: Remember, one day you will die.
It kept us humble.
It kept us respectful.
It kept us, to some degree, empathetic. After all, we were writers too, weren’t we? We were just having fun, mind, or practicing our writing, or whatever, but the important part was that we were all writers.
Maybe it’s a reflection of the people I spent time with, but it showed in our meta too. When talking about characters, the other fans might sprinkle their posts with snide comments about authorial intent, but we stuck to observations about the characters themselves. “But of course, the creator didn’t think about that” was again a non-writer line. If we wondered what the creator had been doing in a particular plot, it was because we were genuinely curious and wanted to know, not because we wanted to look clever. If the creator ended the series like a Shakespearean comedy rather than a John Webster piece, we didn’t sit around debating the likelihood that the whole cast would be eaten by a rabid rhino the second the credits stopped rolling, because really, let’s look at the creator’s history here. We celebrated our happy ending.
We had conversations because we wanted to enjoy things. We were in the fandom to have fun, period, end stop.
This was really important when I was in my twenties and working on getting a B.A. in Creative Writing. The idea of publishing, particularly in a pre-self-publishing craze, was daunting. Basically everything the big publishing houses put out were novels. That was a lot of work, a lot of revision, a lot of money for editors and agents and shipping things around. You were looking at a lot of rejection, so much so that writers like Steven King gave advice in interviews and autobiographies on how to deal with the sea of ‘sorry, not interested’. And it wasn’t much money, usually. The idea that, if you made it, you could wind up with millions of ‘fans’ bitching about how the book you got on eating disorders in 1893 had given you bad information and calling you a no talent, idiotic hack because you believed it was enough to make someone just give up and go into landscaping. However, the knowledge that people might be inspired to write their own things based off of your work, that they might recognize you as the source of their inspiration, and that there might wind up being a communal, living body of work based on something that you pried out of your brain….that was exciting. That was worth it. That made being part of a fandom and the thought of having one of your own encouraging and fun and supportive.
To twenty something me, that made being a published author seem like an infinitely better job than packing groceries.
Then we got lawyers. We got rights. That should have been a good thing, and in ways it is, but we now have the privilege of being entitled, spoiled bullies like the rest of the fans, and God forbid we not make the most of our privileges. ‘Having fun and enjoying the thing’ has given way to ‘find as many things to be dissatisfied about as possible’. Telling the nay-sayers ‘no, we’re all just having fun’ has turned into a battle to defend our hobby against someone armed with a list of fiction summaries along the lines of ‘fixing the plot because the author is a no talent hack who couldn’t write their way out of a wet paper bag!’
Forty something me packs groceries for a living and plans on doing it until I retire. Yeah, self-publishing is a thing now, and I’m financially stable enough to do it. I could finish a rough draft (Hell, I have one that’s probably good enough to pitch at an editor), hire someone to help me clean it up, and get it out into the world.
I just don’t want to. It might do well, and then what? I get to hear all about how I’m an idiot because side plot B didn’t make sense to five people? About how someone had a great revelation about character C and it’s a pity I couldn’t be clever enough to have actually thought about it myself? About how they know that my story is really super cringe, but they found a way to think about it that I never intended and actually makes it good? About how all of the problematic parts are clearly because I’m majority? (Well, you know, mixed status, but that just means ‘worst of both worlds’.)
Working retail I have to put up with a constant stream of superior people being nasty and critical, but I don’t have to spend more money than it takes to drive to work. I don’t have to let people see my thoughts and dreams. I don’t have to hand them characters that I’ve poured hours of thought and care into, developing them to be the best, most human people I can manage, only to have them run over with steamrollers and be criticized for making them so flat.
Not to mention it pays better.
No, really. People assume that once you’ve published a book or worked on a TV script, you’re set for life, but I’ve already made more money this year boxing groceries than a bottom tier novelist. And before you say ‘oh, but the bottom tier is practically unknown and doesn’t need to worry about fans’, that is not the point. The point is that a lot of well known creators have second jobs. They still get routinely attacked by people who claim to like their work.
It’s not encouraging anymore. It’s not supportive. And I’m sure there are people out there all ready to say ‘Oh, but with you it will be different because-” no it won’t. I’m not that special. I’m not special at all, except in that way that everyone is a unique and special individual, and that statement applies to every human being in history, including the genocidal maniacs.
There are days I’m not even sure why I bother with fan fiction anymore, except that I want to write and this is what’s inspired me. Half the time it feels like people just see my comments section and go ‘Ah yes! A fresh forum to complain about the creator!’ or my meta and go ‘Oh yeah! I can add to this, and get in a few digs on the creator to boot! Gee, I can’t believe you forgot that part!’ And I want to get better at writing and that requires feed back and being able to ask people who have different specialties than I do how things work and…
I just want to be able to enjoy talking to people about things again. I want to be able to read a great observation on a character and not have it ruined by the obligatory “But of course, we have to take into account who’s writing it!” comment. I want to be able to see a story with an awesome looking summary that isn’t labeled “fixing what the creator ruined by being a no-talent hack”. I want to be able to see I have a comment and not have to hold my breath that it’s yet another person complaining about what a horrible, awful thing the creator did by writing a scene that makes me feel represented in a way nothing else ever has and how much they hate it and of course I hate it too, right? I want to not feel bad about supporting a fan author knowing full well that they’re writing because they think the original creator sucks and will interpret everything possible in a way that reflects badly on them.
I’m glad we have the right to create fan works without fear of repercussions, but I’m really not sure we deserve it.
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Hi Frank! Do you think Tumblr is a good place to make new friends, either internet or IRL? Have you developed lasting friendships beyond Tumblr through Tumblr?
(Note: I don't know what a "lasting friendship" is, but I'm going to respond with something I hope you can see as roughly "the best I can hope for" or even "a good way to set the bar")
A lot of it depends on your personality, which I do not have a good sense of, and on your specific Tumblr experience, which I don't know either, but the following may be a place to start talking if you feel so inclined:
You and everyone you talk to on here are a bit of a cult, and not just in an abstract sense like "oh, cults." There's a definite community-building aspect to this which can sometimes be hard to navigate, and if that's not something you enjoy, that's a good reason to think twice before continuing (and you may want to think twice before reblogging or responding to this ask).
The "tumblr culture wars" thing is a huge aspect of tumblr experience, and if it's not a thing for you, then it would be good to take that into account. However, tumblr culture wars are not just bad for certain kinds of people (e.g. people who like to have nuanced discussions with lots of complex and complicated ideas) – it's basically a huge thing for anyone who wants a community that's friendly and welcoming, and wants to avoid conflict. In particular, for people who have an identity-based conflict (in whatever sense this word might make sense to you) and try to figure out what to do to "settle down" in a community, Tumblr culture wars are really, really, really good. Many people are very invested in the conflicts, and want to get involved, and there are people who think of themselves as "not on Team X" but are happy to defend that against people on Team Y, or whoever.
For people who are not good at coming up with arguments, there are a lot of people on tumblr who are really good at writing essays, giving long rants, etc. You can learn a lot from these people.
The people on Tumblr who are really good writers and can really express complex ideas, who may be the people who seem like cult leaders in the abstract sense, are in fact really awesome people to hang out with and who you can learn a lot from.
Most tumblr user-types have idiosyncratic and unusual interests, and this makes tumblr a very good place to make friends with people who are like you. If you're really interested in someone's work or community, it can be a good thing for you to keep an eye on what they're doing and what they're doing it in conjunction with, to develop an appreciation of their "style" or "persona."
One of the great things about tumblr is that it forces everyone to be as honest about their own shortcomings as they are willing to be, which can be a great thing, because it means that everyone on tumblr is honest about their flaws and what they're working on to improve themselves.
It seems like it would be really easy to come up with very funny things to say in response to your posts. It's really easy to make things seem like you're haha ha wow lol what a clever clever observation. Do not fall into this trap. A lot of the most effective tumblr posts have been produced by a real, earnest conversation between the people writing them, and this isn't something you'll be able to pull off in a response to your posts.
Most of the things that are wrong with tumblr, or wrong about tumblr, are bad, in a bad way. Like most of the things that are wrong with the wider internet, or that are bad about the wider internet, are bad in a bad way. I think that a big component of tumblr's power is that it's a refuge from the internet as a whole. People who are having problems with the internet can come here and be like "I wish the internet didn't have [a particular bad internet thing]." When a tumblr blog is really well-designed, it ends up feeling very special and cozy and like you're having a good time, and people who aren't having much fun on the internet can come here and realize "oh, this is the place where my problems end. I like this. I'll come back." Don't let anyone tell you you don't have the right to this kind of refuge.
If you are someone who is really interested in internet communities and communities in general, and you're really really really interested in the one that tumblr has, that can be really really great for you. I can't know how much this will apply to you, but I think most of the people who read this are tumblr people, so I feel like it is sort of an attempt to say that for tumblr people: if you like tumblr and think it's a community you want to be in, then that's great. If you don't like tumblr, then it's not the community for you, and you should try something else. It's worth seeing whether you could take a hint from tumblr's success and see what you can do to make your own experience here better.
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I’ve decided to do some Twst OCs.
says me from months ago
However, I see that most of them are from a main story perspective. So I thought to do seven from before the story! And drop some Ramshackle lore as well-
So here’s one of Pomefoire’s previous Vice Leaders;
Giovanno Suprezion!
{More under the cut}
Giovanno, for those who don’t know who he’s twisted off of, is twisted off of Dimentio from Super Paper Mario. One of the many charming villains from one of my favorite Mario games. (First being Super Mario RPG and second being Mario and Luigi: Dream Team.)
He, alongside Diasomnia’s Vice Leader at the time, Daven Lorcut, are two of the more unique graduates from Night Raven College. Both having chosen Dimensional Travel/Research as their career. And with how said Diasomnia Vice Leader went missing for most of the year and came back just in time for graduation in a dimension traveling boat, their dreams become reality! and because they boyfriends-
School History/School Infamously:
Giovanno was no pushover when it came to Pomefiore rules of self care and potion making. Although he definitely had quite the unique style (Aka: This man made a royal purple, neon yellow checkered suit once and if you were to ask anyone from that dorm at the time, they would say it was probably the worst thing they ever had the pleasure of seeing). also aka; the first outfit I drew him in.
This didn’t mean he didn’t get up to trouble with his experiments when in school. Clever pranks abroad with makeup and dimensional rifts galore caused definite trouble among other students. Yet he always had a fondness for helping those with writing essays, helping. Not writing them for them.
Giovanno, as one of the Ramshackle Study Group founders, was responsible for the financial problems that were found in some parts of Ramshackle, seeing what needed to be fixed and if they could be afforded. Outside of his duties with writing tutorials for other students.
Family Life;
Giovanno grew up in a orphanage for most of his life as one of the few fey children in his town within the Queendom of Roses. He grew up teaching other children younger than him how to read and write with the caretakers so they had a better chance of being adopted to decent families. I say decent because his boy was absolute trouble for those who clearly shouldn’t have children at all. And he got all of the children to misbehave for those people. yes he was being a lil shit.
When the time came for his magic to start blossoming, he was very curious about it, and so were his caretakers to a degree. Because somehow, floating and teleporting around were the first things he tried doing when he first got a hang of it. And growing magic plants that controlled ants, but he doesn’t talk about that after a incident occurred involving said ants.
I have run out of juice- I swear I’ll write more for him in the future-
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I posted 5,451 times in 2022
That's 5,451 more posts than 2021!
668 posts created (12%)
4,783 posts reblogged (88%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@omgcheez (Like of course)
@encantoisawesome
@immabethehero
@neon-green-eyes (Of course)
@sleeplessdreamer14
I tagged 4,163 of my posts in 2022
Only 24% of my posts had no tags
#encanto - 2,468 posts
#bruno madrigal - 1,628 posts
#encanto fanart - 805 posts
#mirabel madrigal - 534 posts
#fanart - 480 posts
#pepa madrigal - 392 posts
#julieta madrigal - 384 posts
#bruno fanart - 285 posts
#isabela madrigal - 264 posts
#camilo madrigal - 257 posts
(I guess we can see where my interests goes XD
Longest Tag: 115 characters
#they'd argue about me being queer like some people thinking i'm straight and some others thinking i'm totally queer
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
OMG I love it! Yeah they all need therapy but not all of them would agree to go. Don't be shy! Seeing a therapist isn't sooo bad!
Oh and... Fic ideaaaa!!!!
(Which I ended up writing! 3 chapters for now!)
289 notes - Posted May 28, 2022
#4
Analysis: Disney Princesses were never bad role models
Like a lot of people I grew up with Disney movies. Snow White even gave me my love of apples (true story!). My favorite was Beauty and the Beast because I thought "Belle looks like me and we are fond of the same thing." Even so, like an awful lot of people I thought the Disney princesses were weak girls only waiting for Prince Charming to save them without doing anything to help their situation.
I was wrong though: Disney Princesses were never weak or dumb! They're great characters with deep and various personalities! I'm here to argue that point to you in analysing the old ones + Ariel because she's known as the first strong one + Rapunzel because she's an interesting case.
Sorry, it's a really long essay... And thank you to my proofreader for proofreading it this time, you're the best!
Snow White case
First one to be analysed... Snow White... Aka "The one I can't stand". Yet I'll defend her because I don't like her but I can't let people talk badly about her!
To defend her, anyone would have replaced the movie into its context as if it was the only way to defend the character to be a bad one. From what I know of and searched, at that time most women were housewives and Snow White gives them some credits so of course it can be used to defend the movie, I won't deny it! However that would mean she's still a bad role model today and I don't think it helps her case. Intention doesn't matter when one criticizes something so I won't talk about the context and you'll see I don't need it to defend Snow White!
Yes, Snow White is a kind princess that talks to animals. We even see her in the beginning talking to a nestling that fell from its nest to help it like we help a human child. We also see the animals of the forest helping her many times like cleaning the house with her. How thoughtful of them!
Yet no, she's not weak of dumb. During the movie, she even do some sensible things as:
Fleeing when meeting the prince when he approached her at the start of the movie
When the hunter tells her to flee she is trying to understand what is happening and actually understand once he pronounces the queen's name.
Yet she hesitates, clearly wondering if it is true, but ends up fleeing because she knows her step-mother and knows she's capable of trying to kill her.
When she starts acting as a mother to the dwarfs she's kind, smiling, but strict enough to ask them for proof when they tell her they washed their hands. Seeing it not being the case, she pushes them to wash them if they want to eat. Which is what a good mom would do, to teach some manners to their children.
Before that, when arriving at the Dwarfs' house she starts cleaning because she thinks doing that will maybe make them want her to stay. The girl is interested and clever! A bit rude too, you don't clean people's houses without asking permission.
Then when the dwarfs discover her, after guessing (correctly) their names she starts to negotiate so that they would permit her to stay in their home. She even answers every concern of them with actual good arguments, such as The Queen not having any way to know where she is, and suggesting she could cook. Well, she showed how useful she was in cleaning so cooking wouldn't be a problem for her either. I can understand they agree. I tell you, negotiating well is a quality requiring intelligence!
At some point she laughs at Grumpy for being... Well Grumpy! It's his name and when she guessed it she made a big angry voice to joke about it. Good humor is a sign of intelligence!
Snow White is a sensible woman then, who takes smart decisions and thinks before taking them. I'm pretty sure that, if she ever existed in our world, she would fight fake news. Actually the dwarfs are the stupid ones! Yes guys... It's water so, yes, it's wet.
I'll conclude my part on Snow White in talking about her supposed weakness. To do so, I'll talk about an interesting part of the movie: Snow White eating the apple the transformed Queen gives her.
What I didn't remember (since each time I wanted to watch it as an adult I quickly stopped because of how I couldn't stand her) is how Snow White was basically forced to eat that apple. And wouldn't have if the circumstances had ever been different. I mean, if the animals didn't attack The Queen for example, Snow White wouldn't have made her enter the house to help her recover. Actually she refused at first to eat the apple but The Queen argued a lot, insisted, and I honestly know a lot of people at her place who would have been confused enough to be convinced. It's how conspiracy theories as the flat earth one works! Snow White was convinced by the same way that conspiracy theories work: a lot of arguments and not letting your opponent think so they can be convinced in the moment. Some will stay convinced, others won't because they would have thought about it afterwards or simply done some research.
Snow White shows little girls they should learn to adapt, looking for proof when in front of a claim, and not acting without thinking before! I say it's good to teach them.
About personality Snow White is a sensible 14 years old girl that can be kind or strict depending on what is needed. She can act, like when she makes the animals go away from the disguised Queen or when she decides to clean the house so the dwarfs would want her to stay, and she mostly stays positive.
Cinderella Case
For Cinderella I'll try to avoid talking too much about Cinderella III where she's at her best since we can see her use her cleverness and bravery. It's the best of the trilogy and where she's the most active but that movie was made to respond to the critics about her being too passive in the first movie.
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342 notes - Posted June 8, 2022
#3
I'm bored... So here are some of my favorites take of Bruno from when I watched and made a lot of screenshots!
Because I'm obsessed with him!
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467 notes - Posted April 22, 2022
#2
My commission by @kinschi is ready! I'm so glad I could have Bruno holding the Pan Flag drawn by her, she's one of my favorites fanartists!
Because in my head Bruno is Pansexual!
I'll see to put it as a profile picture, I hope it'll fit well and we would be able to see well Bruno & the flag!
769 notes - Posted August 8, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
First part of the pages of the Encanto book that got released recently in France
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1,249 notes - Posted April 8, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Hi just me asking HOW ARE YOU SURVIVING OBI WAN TELL ME ALL UR THOUGHTS WE ONLY HAVE TWO EPISODES LEFT 😭
I WROTE YOU A 1K WORDS ESSAY LAST NIGHT AND TUMBLR CRASHED AND I LOST THE WHOOOOOOLE THING 😭😭😭😭
but YES I AM LIVING AND DYING AT THE SAME TIME!!!! I ASKED FOR PAIN AND THEY ARE GIVING IT TO ME!!!!! ITS AWESOME.
i'm soooo sad there's only two left 😭😭 i've heard rumours of a s2 and damn i hope its true because i'm loving this so much. i want more obi ALWAYS. (i also want more vader/anakin always cos that's my boo, my silly rabbit but that's another discussion lmao)
but yeah i'm really enjoying the show so far, i know there's been some ~discourse online cos star wars fans are the worst but i am having a blast on this bitch rn.
the fact that it focuses so much on anakin & obi-wan's relationship ??? and all the ways they still affect each other ??? all the ways they've loved and hurt each other ??????? the fact that it focuses on obi-wan's grief & guilt & trauma re: what happened with anakin???? soo sexy wow. the fact we're getting such detailed visualisation of the strength and endurance of their force bonds through the years??? it's still strong by the time it hits a new hope ??? they can still sense each other?? HELLO ???? obi-wan's devotion to anakin's children despite everything that anakin has done ?? literally no one touches ME !!!! these two are FAMILY. BONDED FOR LIFE. DRIFT COMPATIBLE. it's no secret i'm not a sequels fan and i've always said if ANYONE in the sw universe deserved to be a fucking force dyad its these two and this show really is saying you are CORRECT to bitch about it. and i love that. i mean obi-wan is HAUNTED the whole show is about love & kindness & grief & trauma and obi-wan being haunted and i absolutely love that. i love that we're taking our time building up to a big fight, that obi is rusty and emotionally wounded and struggling. he has ptsd and its exactly what i wanted to see. its SO satisfying watching him rebuilt his confidence and find himself again. and the fact that it's all motivated by LEIA ??? of all people ??? oh this deepens and enriches a new hope SO much. what a great great great idea. i didn't know i needed uncle obi this badly but FUCK. it hits. every damn time.
speaking of leia she is PERFECT. the writing for her is sooooo good. you can see the ways she's gonna grow into the character we know so well and love so much. and we can see the way the experiences she's having in this show shape the character we know. its all very clever. i'm living for it. @ sw dude bros complaining about the child i'll fucking fight you, you dicks. that little actress is doing SUCH a great job. and god, i know the show's ~leia & padme are similar agenda is strong but as a ANAKIN & LEIA ARE THE SAME believer, i am LIVING for her characterization. she's SUCH a mini anakin in so many ways. ofc anakin & padme are very similar too in that they're stubborn and fierce and passionate etc. but i feel so fucking vindicated. (and sad lbr because in an au where he doesn't fall, anakin would have loved her SO much and she'd have been such a daddy's girl. :((( they'd watch spaceships together and he'd improve her droids for her :((()
i'm also really enjoying tala (an ACTUAL QUEEN) & reva. i think there's work that needs to be done re: reva's backstory & motivation to fully develop her as a character but i'm nowhere near as bothered by it as other people online have been.... like... the only two inquisitors we know that much about are thrilla in jedi fallen order and the grand inquisitors in rebels. and even THEN that fantastic backstory is what ??? he was a jedi temple guard ??? that's...... it ??? we barely know anything about him ??? like... people will bitch and bitch about reva being underdeveloped (even tho the show isn't even FINISHED) but let's be real, a lot of the inquisitors ARE pretty one-dimensional ???? but hey, when it's a woc the character and writing gotta be perfect otherwise........ its so fucking annoying that sw fans are like that -.- . like... i want more from her too, don't get me wrong. mostly because she's badass and super smart and kinda scary and I'm INTRIGUED by her intensity. but I'm not particularly bothered yet.
the weakest part for me was no jokes the guy's grand inquisitor's performance. mostly because jason isaacs is unbeatable in my mind. (its unfair to the new guy i know i can't help it :///) but now with what happened in ep 2 i don't even know if its the same character so *shrug* idk idk. i'm really hoping we get resolution/more info re: that.
another thing is that i 100% want more vader & more hayden specifically. because i'm greedy like that. ALL the vader/anakin stuff we've had so far is PERFECT. no notes. 100000/10. he's SUCH a looming presence on the show and SUCH a strong point in it. but yeah, i want more. i can't wait to see the final showdown. i'm hoping for more heartwrenching dialogue and hopefully an attempt to bring him back from obi ??? might be wishful thinking BUT in rotj vader does say 'obi-wan once thought as you did' and lbr.... we have never seen obi-wan in canon thinking hum! vader can be redeemed! so, yk i am waiting. AND i want to see maybe flashbacks ?!! hayden is RIGHT THERE! it'd be a waste not to, right ??? right ??? so yeah, i really hope that happens. but who knows! i'm just enjoying the ride so far because the ride has been SO good lmao.
like..... they made me scared of VADER ??? i've never in my life found vader scary. he makes me sad very often because anakin is my favourite character and his story is heartbreaking. and he makes me cheer because lbr its very satisfying to see vader being a ruthless bitch and a drama queen and walking in and fucking everyone up while making stupid puns and saying raw as fuck lines (then you will die braver than most ????? i fucking love anakin). but scared ??? shit your pants terrifying???? that was a first and i LOVED it. i think deborah chow is doing SUCH a good job filming him to emphasize how nightmarish he is. it's a combination of the horror film vibes + hayden's (& the stunt doubles) posture/movements + ewan REALLY selling obi-wan's horror and fear and vulnerability that just.... makes him sooooo scary. i fucking LOVE it. it's a highlight of the show for me.
though the star remains ewan givng it his ALL. his fucking eyes........ tell a million things. i'm so glad we got him back in this role <3333
so yeah..... i'm dying and having the best time. i waited 17 years and i honestly still can't believe i get to have this tbh ????????
how about you???? are you enjoying the show ???
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LOLLYYYY !!!!! im so sorry i took me the entire day to read sugarstream but … BUT ! i hope you know i’m you’re biggest fan — i have been ITCHING for this piece and now that i’ve finally read it, i feel so complete?? like wow. my life goal has been accomplished now. feeling #Blessed.
++ i wanted to tell you how beautifully written it was…. i was taking notes mentally.. like “wow she wrote it this way instead of that” and “oh my god that was so clever,,, how did she think of that” and the obvious thoughts of “oh that is so hot….. lolly is having so much fun right now (i hope)…” LOL
and i think it’s because i associate gojo with you, i find myself thinking, “oh yeah… YEAH… gojo is totally like this…” because anything you say, goes.
i just really believe you understand his character well… and every time you write him, i get so lost into the smaller details you’d pick up like an easter egg — i was like omg honored one?? one and only?? SLAYYYY !!!! i feel so damn happy being able to gush about him internally while reading the same way you gush about him secretly in your writing heheheh
ugh and i just wanted to tell you that you’re such a big, big inspo for me too!! you have my entire heart (i have such a big crush on you) <3
p.s. i love the plot. i love the details. i love the writing. i love everything but i think my favorite thing out of it all has to be seeing how fearful gojo’s character is. i think this summarizes him as a whole… without spoiling anything at all! i find that so interesting too.. being able to communicate how someone is without giving anything away.. ugh, it was stunningly written. im still on the floor.
i love you. (tiny font because i felt SOOOO guilty writing you an LONG essay but i am also worrying im straining your eyes right now IM SO SORRY !!!!)
dilly 🥹 i’ve read this ask an embarrassing amount of times since you sent it in and i’m still speechless okay. i had SOOOO much fun writing sugarstream and i’ve been excited about it for a long time but i didn’t think anyone would feel this way about my writing or to think such things while reading my dumb little fics. a girl’s dream is to hear she understands and writes her favorite character well, OKAY. i’m sitting over here giggling because you said that ❣️i can’t come up with enough things to say but i teared up a little and i love you so much. for a writer who writes as beautiful as you do, this is one of the best compliments i’ve ever received!!!! I LOVE YOU. i’m rambling now but thank you so much for saying these kind words. i hope you know i’m going to read this ask a thousand times because you’re the sweetest ever!!!!! (˘̩̩ε˘̩ƪ)
#꒰ 🍰 ꒱ ﹕ཿ ࿓ sweetbox#꒰ a date with ꒱ ﹕ཿ ࿓ atsumeii#I ACTUALLY TEARED UP#I’M GONNA KITH YOUR FOREHEAD SO SOFTLY#I LOVE YOU
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summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.
word count: 11k
reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader
warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s
brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present
note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.
title credit: lil nas x
mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3
Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)
But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.
You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.
Maybe he’s forgotten about you.
You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.
Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.
“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”
“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”
He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”
“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”
“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.
“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.
“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.
“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.
“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”
“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”
That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.
If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.
You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.
Hell, you might never fall in love again.
Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.
You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.
You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”
“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”
“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.
“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.
“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.
Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.
You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.
You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.
Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.
Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.
Everyone needs a little bit of normal.
But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.
You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.
Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.
Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.
Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.
Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”
“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.
“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.
“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”
“Mister Stark!”
“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”
You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.
“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”
“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”
“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.
After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.
And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.
You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”
“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.
“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”
Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”
“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”
“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?
“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”
“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)
“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.
“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.
“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.
“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)
The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.
Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.
Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.
But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.
The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.
You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.
“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.
Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.
What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.
More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.
The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.
A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.
And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.
The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.
It’s not far enough.
You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.
Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.
You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.
You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.
You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.
And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.
This is what love is, you think.
Pain and pleasure.
Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.
Pain and pleasure.
You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.
Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”
“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.
“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.
Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.
You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.
“Stevie’s goin��� to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.
“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.
“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)
When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.
Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.
So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”
It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?
“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.
“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.
He looks so different.
It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.
You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.
Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.
You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?
You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?
When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)
You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.
“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”
You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”
“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”
“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.
“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.
“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.
“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.
Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.
“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.
“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”
Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.
You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.
“What?” He rasps, “What?”
“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.
Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”
“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.
He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”
“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”
“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”
“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”
“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”
“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”
“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”
“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”
When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”
“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”
“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”
He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.
When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.
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could you write something about the readers parents not liking her and harry comforts her please
ok this is going to be quite sad and angsty so hold on tight!
Y/N was crying in her room. Again.
This was turning out to be a daily occurrence now. Wake up. Get shouted at. Go to school. Learn how to dissect a frog and master how to write the perfect essay. Come home. Get shouted at. Sleep. The weekends, she didn’t get all the good in-between stuff, it was just waking up to be shouted at.
For what? Well not even Y/N could answer that.
Her parents had despised her since the day she was born, or at least Y/N presumed. She was never allowed to go out without permission from her parents. She was not allowed to eat certain foods, because “she didn’t need to be any fatter”. She wasn’t supposed to wear anything inappropriate. She wasn’t allowed relationships. Although that last one, she cheated on.
Harry had been Y/Ns best friend all through high-school, until they reached college and Harry couldn’t wait any longer to make her officially his. He wanted her so badly. She was his best friend but he craved for more. It took Y/N a lot of persuading, but it was the best thing she’d ever done for herself. Harry was kind to her. He treated her with respect and love - something she’d never had from her parents.
Having a relationship whilst being instructed you weren’t allowed one, made things very difficult. Harry could only see Y/N when she allowed him to. After finishing chores she would tell her parents she was going to grab food or cleaning supplies from the grocery store, only to go and spend a few hours with Harry in his treehouse. She would always come back with a bag full of shopping and made sure she covered the hickeys on her neck well. It would be hard to explain their origin of those marks to her parents.
“Y/N!”
Her mum had never provided her with a nickname, only ever calling her by her proper name. Harry gave her nicknames and pet names galore; baby, honey, sweetheart, lovie, darling and petal to name but a few.
You had learnt that shouting back was “never okay” so you left your bedroom and walked down the stairs to find your mum, who’d just shouted for you.
“Yes mum?” You timidly asked, standing at the door with your fingers fiddling with each other.
Your mum turned and scoffed at the sight of you. “Oh Jesus Y/N! You look horrible. That dress is disgusting.” It just so happened to be your favourite dress - a simple, long - as necessary - white dress with pretty flowers embroidered in baby pink and blue across the skirt. It made you feel like a weightless princess. “Don’t you agree?” Your mum asked your dad.
“Oh yes. Too much fat showing.” Your dad lovingly commented back.
You looked down at yourself, thinking that maybe it was showing a bit too much skin and therefore showing off your fat. Harry always told you that you were completely beautiful - an angel - but it was hard to believe on days like this. You crossed your arms over your chest in discomfort. Speaking back would only make things worse, so you took the verbal abuse as it came.
“Now,” your mum sat up a bit more, “i’m finding it really hard to look at you right now, Y/N, because i’m hurt by you.” Tears, fake of course, were forming in her eyes.
“W-why?”
“Mrs Tucker said she saw you and a young boy kissing outside the grocery store the other night - the same night you said you were going to pick up cleaning supplies.” Your heart dropped to your feet, because it was true. You had been with Harry. You’d never thought about anyone catching you, mainly because you thought no one cared about you enough. Mrs Tucker does like a good gossip though, dammit.
“A boy Y/N!” Your dad shouted in reiteration, making you flinch to the noise.
“Now I told Mrs Tucker that was being silly. That lady will do anything for a natter.” You stilled, thinking you were off the hook, but you should ‘t have been so quick to let your guard down. “Until your dad and I followed you to the grocery store the next night, although we never reached the store did we Y/N? No we were outside a house instead.”
Oh no. You are so dead.
“A boys house, Y/N? You weren’t raised to be a whore.” Your dad spat at you, turning away from you as if the sight of you was disgusting.
“God knows who he is or what you’re doing with him, but it stops. Right now, today.” Your mum gritted through her teeth, obviously trying to keep her calm.
“But—”
“No!” You mum screamed. “I will not be seen as the mother of a daughter who sleeps with random boys, instead of studying and working hard for her family!”
This was so 1800s. This was your life.
You had actual tears forming in your eyes now, unlike those your mum bared. It was so silly that this was making you cry but you were so upset that they thought they could control your life this way. It was devastating.
“I-I.. I love him though.” You choked out between tiny sobs, “I love him.” You whispered - that having been the first time you’d told someone else other than Harry. It actually felt good. Relieving. To declare your love for Harry made the world feel possible.
“Love? You no nothing about love.” You dad rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh at his words.
“The only reason I don’t know about love is because I never got it from either of you.” You started to fight back. This was a battle you were determined to win. No more hiding behind a timid figure. You were willing to stand up for yourself - no one else was going to.
“Because there’s nothing to love about you!”
You didn’t recall who this came from, all you remember is your heart dropping below the floor and fleeing from the room. Fleeing from the house. Fleeing from a family who didn’t see you as anything but a human being. You weren’t a daughter to them. You were nothing. Your heart called elsewhere. It yearned for the person closest to you.
It wasn’t until you were met with Harry’s front door that you realised where you were and what had happened.
“Oh Y/N! Hi lov—” Anne greeted you, until she saw that you were crying heavily and your chest was rising rapidly. “Harry!” She shouted into the house, leaving you a brief moment to collapse onto the floor in front of you. You didn’t care for the pain that ran through your knees from the impact - only the pain in your heart from the break it had just suffered.
“Woah angel, hey, hey.” Harry was by your side within seconds, completely incasing his body around you. Your head laid buried against his warm chest and his arms hugged you close to him like never before. His smell was one of home. He encompassed you and made you feel safe and loved. You weren’t alone.
“I-i’m unloveable.”
“But I love you.” Harry whispered against your hair, warm air softly kissing your skin.
“Yes, but—”
“No, “but”. I love you, Y/N L/N, I really fucking do. You’re my other half, baby.” He kissed your forehead a few times, knowing that’s your second favourite place to be kissed. “Your parents don’t deserve you, they really don’t. They’re cruel and cold-hearted, but that doesn’t mean I am. I think you’re beautiful, clever and kind. I think you’re everything i could ever want. And I know that you can’t be unloveable, because i’m, so deeply, in love with you.”
Harry continued to rock you, as your cried into his chest. You’d never believed in yourself before meeting him and you never thought that he could be so genuine towards you. He couldn’t care less what your parents think, as long as he helped remind you that you’re none of what they think of you. You’re so much better than mindless words. You make you you, not your parents. Harry’s helped you discover who you are and who you want to be. Even though your miles from becoming who you want to be, and you have your setbacks, you’re proud of how far you’ve come.
You cried against his chest, until the pain softened and your could regain your breath again. You unburied yourself from his hold and looked up to him with love in your eyes.
“There’s my beautiful girl, looking like a princess in you pretty dress.” He smiled down at you, even though you knew you had puffy eyes, red cheeks and a snotty nose. He loved you and all your perfect imperfections.
“Thank you, H.” You said with a wobble to your lips, really meaning your words.
“I know, baby.”
“I really do love you too.” You made sure he knew. His heart fluttered a little faster over your words. He leaned down to kiss you gently, minding all the salty water and grimy snot that laid on your face. His kiss sent butterflies swarming through your stomach and a new type of red appeared on your cheeks.
“Waffles anyone?” Anne asked as she stood at the door, the smells of sweet honey and cream only hitting you now. It was that moment that you realised your heart had never belonged with your parents, your heart belonged here, with Harry. Forever and always.
#harry oneshot#harry blurb#harry styles imagines#harry styles concept#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles sad#finelinevogue harry styles#finelinevogue
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Megumi’s FULL name reveals a lot about his character. It captures his kindness, his energy, but also his inner darkness--the kind of darkness that al lot of people in the fandom are speculating will drive him to become a sort of villainous figure in Jujutsu Kaisen.
But, in order to REALLY understand Megumi, you have to understand the basics of how Japanese uses its three alphabets differently from English’s one alphabet.
Yes, Megumi meaning “blessing” is a huge deal, but I think his last name is just as important.
Here’s why...
TLDR at the end
I can’t really explain who Megumi is without understanding a bit about kanji and how it’s used, so feel free to skim or skip to the end of the essay.
But if you find Japanese culture as a whole fascinating, then read on.
How Written Japanese Uses Kanji
What I’ve come to realize about kanji is that it’s “literally” a symbol meant to represent a concept. For example, 目is the kanji for “eyes” and is meant to symbolize and look like an eye.
But the way Japanese uses kanji gets complicated (at least for me) when a particular kanji can both represent a concept (as in the example above) AND be used to make a specific and completely unrelated syllable.
Like seriously... the fuck.
A notable example can be found in Your Name where Taki writes a note on Mitsuha’s notebook asking her who she is.
Taki uses the kanji 前 which means “previous” but is also associated with the syllable “mae” to say “o+mae”, the informal way of addressing someone. I thought it was a curious detail that Taki does this instead of spelling out “omae” with either katakana (オマエ）like I’ve seen most manga do) or hiragana until I realized it was most likely a deliberate choice on Makoto Shinkai’s behalf.
Similarly, we already know Megumi’s name means "blessing” because it’s a big part of the plot. Especially in relation to it’s opposite: “noroi” or curse (呪) the anime’s central theme.
With that said, a lot of people are rightfully confused about Megumi’s name because of his resentment towards his father as he mentions in episode 5.
Is Megumi a girl’s name?
The whole issue with Megumi’s first name is that the kanji for “Megumi” is primarily considered to be a feminine character. From doing some research I understood that you can have a “Megumi” name for a male but you would use different, more masculine kanji.
I’m assuming sort of like in the "o+mae” example where you could use kanji that represented the syllables for “Me+Gu+Mi” or any such combination like “megu+mi” and “me+gumi”.
Similarly, you might have noticed that in a lot of anime, characters introduce themselves and sometimes there is mention of the kanji characters used to write their name.
An example of this is the name Shiemi. There are several ways you can combine kanji to spell that name, but one combination uses the kanji for aspire + blessed (which is also Megumi’s kanji character) + beauty (志+惠+美 ).
Ready to make this more complicated?
You can also spell Shiemi with the kanji for “aspire”, “bloom”, “laugh”, “poetry”, etc.
This is a very creative take on name meanings if you ask me.
In other words, this is how Japanese people give their children “meaningful” names the way in the US someone might name their child “Matthew” because they perceive them to be a “gift of God” (the name’s meaning).
The fact that the kanji 惠 representing the concept for “blessing” was chosen for Megumi Fushiguro’s name, however, speaks a thousand words in much the same way kanji represents concepts.
The reason Toji did not care about Megumi’s gender when he named the baby he was about to have, was because to Toji, who came from a cursed (呪) life, Megumi, and the life he had with Fushiguro-mama, was the embodiment of a blessing (惠) .
To be honest, however, it is his last name that I am most interested in breaking down. That one doesn’t get as much attention and I think is just as important for his character.
The reason being is that I suspect it is Megumi’s last name which embodies the reason why Sukuna is so fixated and fascinated with Megumi.
Fushiguro and the darkness within
I believe it is in an interview or perhaps the fan book that Gege Akutami talks about Itadori, Kugisaki and Fushiguro all being plant names.
That being said, yes, Fushiguro is a tiny wild flower endemic to Japan.
But as with the naming convention rules I shared above, the story the kanji in his last name tell goes beyond the flower symbolism. In fact, I believe the name of the flower is not spelled using these kanji (but I could be wrong).
TLDR...
Fushiguro is made up of two kanji.
“Fushi” (伏), which means to bend or bow down + “guro” (黒), which means black. However, it is safe to say that this last kanji can also mean “darkness” since it is used in that word as well.
Taken literally then, I am assuming Megumi’s last name to mean “bow down darkness”.
Bow down + Darkness + Blessing.
Symbolically speaking, you could say that his last name is sort of paying homage to the darkness within. Ironically, his first name is such a beautiful homage to receiving gifts for which we feel grateful. This is consistent with how Megumi sees the world in black and white terms sometimes.
And if you really think about it, Fushiguro is also a clever play on words for his cursed technique being shadow based.
But more importantly, his last name reminds me of Megumi going feral while fighting the Yasohachi cursed spirit.
I think one of the reasons feral Megumi is so popular is because he took us by surprise. His character trope is the cool and collected deuteragonist after all.
I’m not sure anyone imagined that he was repressing such a blood thirsty...
manipulative...
sadistic beast within.
It makes me wonder whether it is a matter of time before Megumi gives himself over to all of his inner darkness, bitterness and resentment (cursed energy).
And perhaps that is exactly what Sukuna sees in him. Throughout the manga there is quite a bit of mirroring happening between Megumi and Sukuna (example).
Personally, I am wondering whether Sukuna sees a younger version of himself in Megumi and that is why he is so interested in both keeping him alive, and his growth as a sorcerer.
So, what do you think? Lots of theories about the Sukuna x Megumi dynamic, so I am always curious to hear what other people have to say.
As for me... I have to go adult.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen manga#fushiguro megumi#megumi fushiguro#jjk#jujutsu kaisen spoilers#sukuna#god i love jujutsu kaisen#gege akutami#manga analysis#jjk theory
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