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transmascissues · 5 months

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some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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subwaysurf45 · 1 year

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Team Bucky

Summary: your secret relationship with Bucky slips out. Everyone else in the compound is happy for you both but your brother - or really your grandfather - is not pleased at all, all you can do is try and live normally with Bucky and attempt to fix things with Steve.

Words: 6k

warnings: SMUT: passionate sex, unprotected, very loving, aftercare. arguing, yelling, swearing, protective Bucky.

a/n: heyyy, yeah I’ve been away for a while, this semester as been kicking my ass. anyways, I’m on winter break and have finally gotten my spark for writing back, I’ve been writing a lot of essays so writing for fun was not fun for a while. I hope you enjoy and I will try to post as often as I can!

There had always been a secret one-upping game going on between Steve and Bucky, it was something everyone had exempted and went along with. There would be countless times when they’d add more and more weight to their bars in order to prove their dominance to each other, or spar with one another until someone gets hurt.

At galas, Steve would be walking around with a trail of women behind him, showing off his skills with the ladies. That didn’t mean anything to Bucky, he would love to get laid more often or get a girlfriend but the ability to make women think they are into you and then drop them like a dead weight isn't appealing.

There were probably things Bucky did to get on Steve’s nerves that Steve didn’t care for. They didn’t do it all the time, just friendly competition. They had been friends for years and years, someone’s weight being a little higher couldn’t even cause a crack in their friendship.

But what Bucky was doing recently would.

There you were, sitting alone in the office as you filled out a debrief of your last mission. The computers were high tech but that didn’t mean they were super fast, most of the time you sat there waiting for anything to load, and seeing the logo in the top corner was a miracle.

“How’s that arm?” Bucky asked as he walked in, acting like he hadn’t been standing outside the door practicing what he was going to say.

“Hard to type with-aw, Bucky…” you pouted and saw the two steaming mugs in his hand, “stop, that’s so sweet!” you reached forward and picked up your favourite mug, looking at Bucky with wide eyes as he pulled out the chair beside you and sat down. “This is going to take forever, Bucky, you don’t-”

“I’m good,” Bucky sighed as he brought his mug right against his bottom lip to blow, “nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“You’re all soft” you giggled and turned back to your computer, “I do need to focus though, no distractions.”

“You have my word,” Bucky smiled and leaned back in his chair, “I’m just here for moral support.”

You just nodded, he loved the face you made when you tried to fight back being flustered. Your bottom lip was clenched tightly between your teeth to fight back a smile while you tried to cover your face and block Bucky from seeing your slight change in colour. The warmth that spread all throughout your body caused you to curl into yourself, he noticed that whenever he complimented you at all you wouldn't know how to react, telling Bucky you weren’t being complimented enough.

That’s how it started, casual compliments and conversation between you two. Trying to get to know you because there was this imaginary wall up for many reasons, you didn’t like to let people into your life because of how much you had lost and something more pressing…

You were Steve’s granddaughter, factually. But you two acted like siblings because you were a little younger than Steve’s age from when he was frozen. Nonetheless, you were related.

Which also meant off-limits.

Bucky really tried to cut himself off but you were his drug, he couldn’t get enough of you. It didn’t help that you were very honest early on about being into him. When Bucky initiated conversations and would give you little touches here and there you were quick to give them back. The first time you played with his hair gave him shivers running up and down his spine but also caused his brain to go fuzzy.

You were alone in the movie room, you always watched some film every Thursday night to keep a schedule. He had come back from a mission hours ago and still managed to make his way down just to sit beside you, and he did but he realized he was too tired to do anything.

He wanted you to cuddle into him and he’d rub your back or whisper little things to just you, but his eyes couldn’t stay open.

“You’re so tired, Bucky-bear,” you whispered and threw your arm around him and to the other side of his head, gently pushing him to place his head on your shoulder, “you can go to sleep if you want,” you whispered.

His body was on his last reserve, not thinking straight at all. “Can I put my head on your chest, your shoulder is too boney,” he’d kick himself for that one in the morning. When you giggled and moved he seemed to sink into you more, wrapping both arms around you and nuzzling into your chest. Everything was so comfy he barely registered that his face was deep between your boobs, you didn’t move or say anything until… “you’re so pillowy,” he muttered.

“But my shoulder is boney?” you shook your head, “you can just say you like my boobs, most people do.”

“They’re great,” he nodded.

Your hand moved from his back and went up his scalp from his neck, earning a groan when you started to fluff around his hair and scratch somewhat intensely on his scalp. He was out before the beginning credits ended, snoring before the middle of the movie. Part of you felt this overwhelming feeling of something you couldn’t describe, Bucky Barnes, a man riddled with nightmares and trauma, constantly on high alert was asleep on your chest. The big man could dwindle down into a guy who has never once felt the touch of love from a significant other. The fact that he trusted you with the power made you proud, it made you like him just a little more.

“How much longer,” he sighed from his starfish position on the floor, being overly dramatic to try to get you to look away. You giggled and finally looked over your shoulder, scoffing at his dramatics.

“Go to bed, I’ll sneak in later.” You shook your head, “and one page left.”

Bucky sighed and sat up, staying on the ground and watching you work. It took a while but soon you were finished, reading it over before submitting it. Bucky helped you pack all your stuff away, holding your bag for you, he did that a lot, never wanting you to do any heavy lifting. Your eyes were barely open as you left the room with Bucky leading you out, you both headed down the hall and to the elevator.

“You still want to sleep with me?” Bucky asked when the door was completely closed, you were too tired to say anything, keeping your head resting against his arm and nodded slightly. “Alright, I think there is still a sweater you left in the room.”

You groaned and looked up, “your clothes please,” Bucky giggled after you whispered. The door opened and you both walked out, him wrapping an arm around you to keep you steady. “I also want to be little spoon please.”

Out of nowhere, a voice came from behind them, “watch your hands, Barnes,” it was Steve.

Bucky turned around but kept his hand where it was, “guess where I just found her?” Steve looked at your tired state, “little miss just finished her report is only going to bed now, I was walking her to her room to make sure she doesn’t pass out on her floor.”

Steve smiled a proud smile. He caught up to them and also helped you walk, subconsciously you leaned more towards Bucky at this moment, thinking of how you’d be cuddling with him soon. Bucky played along and brought you into your room, Steve was very adamant they both left before you got into your pajamas. Bucky couldn’t say no even though he had seen you naked, he had to play along.

Bucky went into his room and waited with the door unlocked, after five minutes you slipped in and found him in the bathroom. Both of you brushed your teeth beside one another, he had one arm around you while you looked at each other through the mirror.

In your opinion, his bed was much more comfortable, choosing to sleep there more often than your own bed. Both of you cuddled in close, you were practically laying on top of him with your head tucked into his neck.

“I love you, Bucky-Bear,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered into your hair, leaving a few kisses after. “You make me so happy, I can’t explain it,” you both giggled as he tickled you.

The secret life with Bucky was great and terrible at the same time. There was a different side to Bucky that he didn’t show the team, he was much softer and more extroverted. When you’d sneak out for dates he’d always be the ordering and making conversation with the waiter because he felt safer at that moment. But at the same time, you still had to go on dates by sneaking out. Steve would kill you if he found out the two of you were seeing each other even though it had been going on for a while you both knew it wasn’t a joke. Your heart would still fall when Bucky had to drop your hand when someone else walked in a room, and both of you would grow envious of the couples openly displaying affection at galas.

The idea of telling Steve grew larger by the day because you knew it was bound to happen, part of you wanted to tell him before getting caught so it didn’t look like Bucky was just a hook-up to you. Yes, Steve would kill you but he would also tear Bucky apart because there were rules, apparently. Any type of family member was off-limits, even if Steve found a distant cousin of Bucky’s they would still be a no-go; but you knew that rule was just for you because you were all Steve had left when it came to family.

********

Steve and Bucky were sparring in the ring as you and a couple of other agents went to various machines during your workout. You couldn’t help but look over at them as they fought extremely hard against one another, there was no reason to give each other a broken nose but they did it anyway.

“Can I work in?” Sammy asked you, he had graduated from the academy the same year as you. You wouldn’t consider yourselves friends but you’d smile at each other in the hall and keep up with families.

“Of course,” you stood up from just sitting on the seat as you took your break, leaning down and picking up your water bottle. Absentmindedly you looked over to see the both of them fighting, Sammy must have noticed.

“I don’t get the game between the two of them,” he grunted, “I get it from a male perspective as in you constantly want to impress your friends but sometimes it gets bad, like what are they even doing right now?” he referenced both of them limping around the ring as they circled one another.

“Boys!” you shouted and they both looked at you, “quit putting on a show for us and just act like normal people for once in your life!” you cupped both hands around your mouth.

Bucky looked shocked, “we’re just playing around, relax!” he sassed you back, it was clear on your face you didn’t enjoy what he said, “oh come on, you always get like this, give us a break!”

“Watch it!” Steve snapped, “you better watch how you talk to my sister.” Steve looked back at you, “and you!” he pointed in your direction, “let the grown men handle their things, please.”

Bucky scoffed, “you better watch how you talk to my girlfriend.”

At that moment the world stopped. Steve whipped his head around to Bucky and just stared at him while Sammy dropped the handhelds for the machine, letting out a loud clunk. Bucky’s eye shifted towards you in what felt like slow motion as an apologetic look grew on his face, your metal water bottle slipped from your fingers and fell on your foot.

“Fuck!” the feeling of a throbbing big toe pulled you from your trance, all you heard was more commotion in front of you but you were looking down.

“You’re fucking my sister?!” Steve yelled and caused all the agents to run out of the gym, including Sammy who quickly patted your shoulder before bolting out. Bucky tried to run over to you to help with the toe injury but was stopped after Steve’s fist collided with Bucky’s throat. “You don’t get to even look at her anymore, I’ll take your fucking eyes out you pervert!”

“Steve!” you hobbled over and ran up to the ring, slipped under and grabbed Bucky’s head that was unmoving on the boxing ring floor, “you knocked him unconscious, Steve,” you gasped and pulled Bucky’s head to your thighs as you sat back on your heels, “you could have damaged his windpipe.”

“He won’t need one after he wakes up and I fully-”

“It’s not like he forced me, Steve,” You looked up at your brother, “we’ve been dating for a long time and it’s not just sex, it’s an actual romantic connection that both of our consent to, it’s actual dating!” you gently tapped Bucky’s cheek to wake him up, “don’t frame him or me to be a slut because all we do are normal dating things,” Steve’s face was red as he saw you carding through Bucky’s hair, he was starting to groan and stir.

“Both of you are dead to me,” Steve spat, “he broke the only rule I set up to protect you.”

“I don’t need to be protected from Bucky, and you know that.” you harshly whipped your head around again, “and I know you’re hurt and exaggerating, just walk away.” That was the last time you looked up at Steve, all your focus was on Bucky starting to wake up in your lap. As he groaned and slowly brought his fingers up to his nose your eyes began to water, this was exactly your worst-case scenario.

Bucky’s eyes cracked open and immediately closed again, “baby,” he mumbled, “don’t cry, please, don’t cry,” he reached up to swipe away your tears but completely missed your face, most likely seeing double. “I slipped up,” now Bucky was starting to cry, “my fault.”

You gently pulled him up in a hug and Bucky accepted it, continuously apologizing for what he had just done. Every time you’d quiet him or try to shift his train of thought but he’d make his way back there every time. After a while you got him on his feet and took him to med bay, many people came up to you and asked if everything was alright, you just nodded and kept walking.

“What happened!” Natasha was in med bay when you arrived, filling out discharge paperwork for herself, “Bucky, that looks really broken,” her fingers ghosted over his nose which caused him to wince backwards, “sorry.”

“Yeah,” you sighed and sat him on the cot, calling over a nurse who began examining, “just…going too hard with the sparring.”

Natasha shook her head, “but no one goes that hard, we all pull our punches except when it’s Steve and- oh my god…” she trailed off and looked at Bucky who was preparing to get his nose snapped back in place, “did Steve find out?”

“My fault,” Bucky cried, holding the sheet as he waited for the nurse to fix his nose.

“It’s not your fault, it was a mistake and yeah this is shitty but it will figure itself out.” you looked over your shoulder and immediately gave Bucky your hand, seeing his white knuckles gripping his sheets.

******

It had been a week and Steve refused to speak to either of you unless it was in a professional setting, even then, he’d be snarky whenever he would talk to you. He meant what he said, you really were dead to him. Part of you thought he’d just be mad at Bucky and get overprotective of you but that never happened, he viewed you like dirt; like how he looks at Bucky.

Bucky could see how it took a toll on you, it broke his heart to see you staring off into space after Steve passed by without looking at you. All Bucky could do was hold you closer, but deep down he blamed himself for letting it slip. Every tear, every longing glance, every hope he’d come around was all his fault.

He found you today curled up in bed, Bucky slipped in behind you and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest. “Everything will simmer sooner or later,” he whispered into your ear.

“I just-...” you sighed and buried your head into your pillow further, “he’s my only family, when he wanted to reconnect with me he was so adamant on making sure I came back to the tower with him, so he could have a sister,” Bucky rolled you over so you were facing him, “and now…I do something for me that makes me happy, you make me so happy, and I’m punished for it.”

Bucky planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, pulling you into another hug and letting you feel his warmth and comfort. “I will personally fix all of this, I will find a way, don’t worry, alright?” Bucky pulled back so he could see you nod, “alright?”

You nodded and Bucky kissed you again, crawling out of bed when you fell asleep. He knew where Steve was, and even though his nose had held quickly doesn’t mean he won’t get another broken nose from what he was about to do. Steve was always in the computer room, just like you. There was always something to be done when it came to paperwork and Steve had the energy for it.

Bucky stayed close to the wall and pressed his back against it, leaning over the corner to see Steve typing away at the computer near the back. Bucky pulled back and fully leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath.

Nat: We’re taking y/n out for a girl’s night, just want to let you know!

Bucky: keep me updated, and don’t let her get too drunk, please

Nat: don’t worry!

After shutting off his phone he slipped it into his pocket and took another deep breath. After mustering enough courage Bucky fully turned the corner and walked up to “Steve,” Bucky stood before him, “we need to talk.”

Steve gave nothing, he almost looked up at Bucky but it was just a flinch.

“Silent treatment?” Bucky scoffed, “that works for me to explain my side of the story without you verbally- or who knows - physically breaking me.” Steve huffed, Bucky looked at the chair but decided to stand. “I’ve been dating your sister for about a year and she’s made me the happiest man in the world,” Bucky fiddled with his fingers, “and I know we made rules and all that but this isn’t about that, we can discuss that later.” Bucky saw Steve was no longer typing but simply staring at his screen. “Steve, your sister misses you so much, she’s been curled up in bed crying about losing you, feeling punished for letting herself love someone, she’s kicking herself for something that was all my fault; I slipped up and y/n should be the last one to pay for it.” Bucky gave in and pulled up a chair, making Steve look at him, “I don’t care if we never talk again but my girlfriend is hurting and that’s what’s been killing me the most, so just talk to her, please?”

Bucky sat there, looking at his vacant face. After a sigh, Bucky rubbed his face and stood up, tucking in the chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, “y/n’s out for drinks with a couple of the girls,” Bucky said, “so she’s not here if you were thinking of talking to her.” Bucky left after that, knowing Steve wasn’t going to say anything.

When you stumbled back inside Bucky was quick to catch you, “what did I say about not letting her get stupid drunk?” Natasha just giggled and Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at all the ladies making their way to the kitchen. “How’s my baby?” Bucky whispered into your ear which caused you to get coy and curl into him, “are you a little cuddly, huh?” his finger made its way under your chin which caused you to giggle. You jumped on him to wrap your legs around his hips.

“I love you, Bucky-Bear,” you hugged him tightly, “we can run away together and never worry about anything ever again, do you want to run away with me?” you kissed Bucky’s neck as he walked into the kitchen to see them all eating chips and cookies.

“Sure we can,” he moved his head so you’d detach your lips from his neck and just cuddle into him.

Bucky stood with the group and held you like you were nothing, laughing and talking while the girls did their debrief at the kitchen island, talking about the songs and the dancing. Bucky kept you in his arms but placed you down so you were sitting on the island, letting your legs and arms wrap around him. You weren’t talking that much, Bucky looked over after five minutes of nothing to see you sleeping with your face on his shoulder.

“She did start to cry,” Natasha said sadly, “she had a lot of pent-up emotion and our uber cancelled on us twice so she was just really frustrated, but we all know she wasn’t crying about the uber.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed and rubbed your back, “I talked to Steve and told him to stop hurting her, you know?” Bucky looked at Nat and she nodded, “like he can be mad at me for as long as he likes, but stop doing this to your own sister, I can’t stand to see her like this, it’s awful.”

“I know,” Nat was the only one invested in the conversation, everyone else would forget this in the morning. “I feel like it’s borderline…I don’t want to say slut shaming but I can’t understand why he would be mad at her, I feel like he’d blame it all on you and only take it out on you- I know you didn’t do this but I thought he was going to pull the ‘you coerced my sister into dating you’ card… I really don’t understand his silent treatment,” Nat sighed and took a swig from her water bottle.

“I guess,” Bucky sighed and picked you up, having to hold you tightly because you were asleep and unable to squeeze your legs around his waist. “I’m going to get her ready for bed,” Bucky tried his best to smile, “I really appreciate you, Nat, she needed this.”

“She did,” Nat ran her fingers over your hair, “as much as she’s going to hate the hangover I think she really drained her emotions out and just let go for a moment,” Nat smiled at Bucky, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Bucky left the kitchen, the moment he turned he turned the corner he saw Steve. He was trying to slip away after eavesdropping but Bucky caught him, all Bucky could do was keep walking; he’s said his piece.

“Is she ok?” Steve finally spoke as Bucky passed him with his chin up.

“From being shunned by her brother or her night out?” Bucky snapped, not even looking at Steve and heading to his room down the hall.

After making it to his room he got you ready for bed, cuddling up next to you and holding you close. He had already gotten the water and painkillers ready for tomorrow morning. All he could do now is hold you, making you as comfortable as possible.

As Bucky lay there with your head on his chest, hearing your drunk snores, he thought about Steve. Bucky reminisced all the days together, growing up and finding one another again. Part of him questioned if all of their history went away the moment he found out, was this really the breaking point for Steve? All he wanted was for you to be happy with your brother but selfishly, he wanted his friend back.

“I can, like, hear your brain,” you mumbled and hugged him tighter, “we’ll figure this out in the morning, just forget it happened and hold me normally, please.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile, he rolled you both on your sides and kept you wrapped up. Getting into the familiar position his eyes started to feel heavy, and soon sleep took over.

********

Bucky stood in the kitchen by himself, sipping his coffee and watching the eggs and bacon cook. It has been two days since you had gotten drunk and Bucky talked to Steve, nothing had come out of Bucky’s attempt to get Steve to talk to you.

He could tell you were becoming depressed from losing your brother, the two of you were inseparable so it hurt a lot to have him cleanly break away from you. But all Bucky could do was continue to support you, and he did that by making you breakfast.

He flipped both eggs and poked at the bacon, trying not to have the grease spit back out at him, you were currently at the gym but he’d already be back in the room before you were done.

All at once, Sam ran into the kitchen, covered in sweat. “Barnes!” he yelled, “your girl is screaming at Steve in the gym-”

“Shit!” Bucky dropped everything and ran, quickly turning around and moving everything off the element while turning the stove top off. Bucky followed Sam all the way to the gym and busted through the door, immediately hearing your raging voice. “Everyone out!” he yelled at the agents standing and watching.

“Bucky, I can do this on my own!” you snapped at him, caught up in the anger towards your brother.

“I’m well aware,” Bucky put both of his hands out, “I’m just giving you two privacy, that’s all, love.” Bucky nodded when he saw you relax your shoulders, “I’m going to be right outside when you’re done, alright?”

Steve turned to Bucky, “you really love her?” he asked.

Bucky slowly tilted his head to the side, “I’ve been dating her for a year, crushing on her for two, and being fully hypnotized by her for three the moment she showed up to this place.” He looked at you, “can I keep going, or do you want this to still be you?”

“See,” you looked at Steve, “he cares about me, on a personal level that no one ever has,” you threw your arms in the air, “you need to accept this or I will have no problem sticking with Bucky.”

“You’d turn your back on your family?” Steve laughed to himself, “you’d seriously stay with him rather than your own brother-”

“You’re not even really my fucking brother, Steve!” the anger was making you jump in your spot, “when you found out I was related to you, you chose to keep me in your life, it was quick because you knew how much family meant to you,” you walked over to Bucky, taking his hand in yours, “well he’s my family now, and when shit got rough Bucky was not the one to run away, Steve…” you looked up at Bucky who couldn’t take his eyes off of Steve, “we can go now,” you whispered to him.

Bucky walked with you to your room, completely forgetting the breakfast he had made to lighten your day. The entire time you were talking about how much lighter you felt, having the ability to scream at him even though no solution was reached. As he listened to you his heart broke, you tried so hard to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal when in reality it was, you just weren’t letting yourself fully feel it yet.

Right as the door to your shared room closed you spun and pushed Bucky up against the wall, “I love you,” you breathed before kissing him harshly, it took Bucky three seconds before pulling away and trying to ask if you were alright, “I want passionate sex right now, I want you to fuck me, baby.”

“Woah,” Bucky whispered, “you’re not…honey, you’re not in the right mindset right now, this is not-”

“Please, Bucky,” you whined and dropped down to your knees, running your hand up and down his thighs, “I really want this.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, shamefully getting hard. When you nodded he picked you up and threw you on the bed, “you tell me if you want to stop, alright?”

“I never want to stop,” you whispered into his ear before sucking on his ear lobe, moving down to kiss his neck.

“Do you want me to go down on you-”

“I’m already wet, just go,” you moaned, blindly reaching down and beginning to work on his pants.

The moment Bucky entered you, you pulled him close, letting his entire body weight crush you in a soothing sort of way. At first, his face was right before yours, kissing you every so often but really just wanting to look at you.

“Pretty girl,” he groaned and tucked his face in your neck, “fuck, I love you, it’s always been you, it’ll always be you, honey- holy fuck!” his hands were moving around, feeling you and touching you all over. “You’re fucking perfect, made for me, I got you,” he sucked harshly on your neck, “I’ll always protect you, and love you, and just-I’m gonna cum, honey.”

“Me too!” you threw your head back, “I love you, Bucky,” your fingers were splayed across his back, “all I want is to run away with you, just you.” your words of love quickly shifted in moans, all you could do was let yourself get lost in the moment.

Bucky had a strong aura, it was one that made you feel protected but also reminded you that he was your rock. Passionate sex with Bucky was something else, he could get you to your peak faster than anyone just because of how much love you feel as he whispers in your ear.

The moment you both let go was a moment of pure bliss, all you could do was dig your nails further into Bucky’s back as he rode out his own high. He stilled after finishing and just stayed there, keeping his head in your neck. While he whispered praises to you, part of you filled with love, an overwhelming amount.

“I love you, Bucky,” you tried to sound put together but the moment the words left your lips Bucky looked up at you, seeing tears stream down your face, “I’m not crying because I didn’t want it, it’s just…” you could see him freaking out, “it’s not you, it’s left over emotion from that fight.”

Bucky nodded and stayed where he was until you began to shift, he wiped you down and got beside you in bed after a while. He made sure you had enough water in your cup beside you and you were warm enough under those sheets. There were a few more sniffles, you’d wipe your face in the shirt Bucky put on because he was cold.

“I just want things to work out,” you cried, “why can’t he see I’m happy and just be happy for me?” your arms hugged Bucky tightly, feeling him hug you back just as tight.

“We’ll figure it out,” his lips brushed against your ear, “everything will work out, you just need to sleep, alright?”

It didn’t take much to knock you out.

********

Bucky’s mission was taking longer than expected but he wasn’t in any danger, his communications back to the compound were perfect with his updates. You weren’t allowed to know where he was or what he was doing but you were allowed time-frame updates, all because you held the title of ‘family’ for his file.

You stood at the stove with an apron on, it had caught three splashes which you were grateful for. The pasta sauce was bubbling so it was close to being done, you had gotten an update saying he was coming home in the middle of the night. If you or Bucky had a mission that ended late the other person would leave a meal in the fridge for when they got home, something easy to throw in the microwave.

“Hey,” you knew that voice from anywhere.

“Hi, Steve,” you said with your back to him. Nothing had changed since then and it had been over two months, Steve was slowly starting to adapt to you and Bucky showing affection in public but he still didn’t talk to you more than he needed to.

“What are you making?” you heard him pull out a bar standing at the island.

You were past trying to reconcile with him, he was the one acting like a child. “Pasta sauce, for Bucky,” you quickly added.

“Oh yeah, I heard he’s coming home tonight,” you could hear how uneasy Steve was, the way his voice slightly shook as he spoke to you.

You could feel his eyes burning holes in your back but you paid no mind, continuing to stir the pot and dodge the few bubbles. “Yep, late.”

“Yep…” Steve sighed but didn’t move, you could hear him just sit there.

Trying to meet him halfway was exhausting, it seemed there was nothing you could do to make him feel better except break up with Bucky. That wasn’t going to happen, it also helped that Bucky was very mature during this, always communicating with you about how he felt and if you needed anything. It further proved how immature Steve was, seeing that a man the same age was able to deal with their emotions perfectly.

FRIDAY came through on the speakers, “Sargent James’ jet is landing now.”

You spun around with a gasp, “he was supposed to be here at three in the morning,” you completely blew past Steve and ran to the land spot, laughing to yourself as you pictured hugging him.

The moment you opened the doors Bucky was already running to you, “there’s my girl!” he yelled and wrapped his arms around you the moment he could reach you, “no injuries for me, how was the month?” he whispered.

“Same as always,” you sighed, “but I’m so happy you’re home,” you nuzzled into his chest.

“He followed you outside, what’s that about?” you didn’t look over your shoulder, trusting Bucky was right. After pulling out of a hug Bucky called, “what are you doing out here?” towards Steve.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he was talking to Bucky, “I need to go for a walk with you.”

“Whatever you need to say can be said in front of y/n as well, bud,” Bucky wrapped his arm around you, “seeing as the situation involves her.”

“Look,” Steve walked up and rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t fully approve of this but I do like the way you’re treating her, Buck, so…” he was awkward, not knowing how to word this because it seemed like a heat of the moment speech. “Yeah, I’m warming up to it.”

“Alright,” Bucky looked down at you, “I mean, that’s great but it doesn’t change anything about us, like,” Bucky laughed through the tension, “we’ve moved on like adults, I can honestly say we don’t care about what you think.”

“That’s a little intense,” you quickly added, “but I think what Bucky is trying to say is that we don’t need updates like this that you’re warming up to us dating because we are still going to date the same, your comfort is not a factor in our relationship.” you nodded and saw Steve’s face go red, “I hope one day we can be friends again and be buddies like before but right now, it’s team Bucky.”

Steve didn’t say anything else, he just watched you walk inside.

“Team Bucky?” he giggled in your ear, “I like it.”

You looked up at Bucky, “I have pasta sauce cooking, we can have it for dinner together.”

“Sounds good,” he kissed the crown of your head with his arm still wrapped around your waist, “can I make you a jersey that says team Bucky because I honestly love that?”

You laughed and fell into his side, “go for it,” he kissed you, “because it’s true.”

Main Masterlist

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satyricplotter · 6 days

Text

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened. for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films? he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else. in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dc imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #not that the night life features as anything other than a mention #anyway for those in the know.... this is the chundan 'i like you because you don't have expectations of me'/'im never gonna like ycy' scene #except set up a little differently given there's no isekai happening here #satplotdb

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originalaccountname · 1 year

Note

Sorry to bother you but I’ve been getting into BSD and Chuuya’s my fave, but I’ve been seeing some contradictory things in fanfic so…

Does Chuuya actually have a god sealed inside him? I thought it was just like his power without limitations and was dubious of those takes, but since eldritch beings can apparently be a thing (and not an ability), I think it could be plausible either way.

Though even if it’s not I can see why people would use that route for some good angst.

This is not a bother at all! This is something I very much like to talk about

if you're really new I do recommend you go read both "Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen Years Old" and "STORM BRINGER" light novels (but SB especially), not only are they great books with Chuuya as the focal point but they will help answer your question in depth (you can buy the English translations but I can help you find the translation online if that's what you need, just message me again)

The short version is that Arahabaki being an actual god, a separate entity from Chuuya that has a personality/a voice/desires, is a common fanon trope, but not a canon fact. The truth is more complex and much more fun, lore-wise, in my opinion

And now the long version, because I'm passionate about this and this is my excuse to deep dive into it (spoilers for Fifteen)

In Fifteen, Chuuya says this:

Chuuya himself presents "Arahabaki" as nothing more than pure power. No thoughts, no personality, but powerful for sure.

That phrasing in Fifteen created a lot of confusion I think, talking about gods as real but also not:

But I think it's more of a symbolic reference, talking about immense power that seem out of this world. Because in practice, as Chuuya said before, "Arahabaki" is simply raw power, not an entity. You can't pray to it, it can't understand you, it can't perform miracles (which is why he knew the Old Boss couldn't have been brought back by Arahabaki and it was all nonsense from the start)

I'm also putting part of the blame on the anime, where they decided (while not being exactly wrong either, out of context it's weird) to illustrate Chuuya "floating in a bluish-black darkness, surrounded by a transparent seal" and being pulled out by a hand:

like this:

When, if you actually reread that part in the novel with knowledge about Storm Bringer, it's actually this moment that was being referred to:

Which brings us to Storm Bringer! (heavy spoilers I'm serious)

"Project Arahabaki" was the Japanese government's attempt to create an ability weapon from an individual. They wanted to craft a singularity that could be used multiple times, thus granting them access to power that should not be accessible normally. They based their research on what France had discovered through Verlaine. The objective is to create a massive energy output through a self-contradicting ability, for which you need a vessel:

Chuuya is the device. "Arahabaki" is the massive energy. That massive energy can control gravity to the point of being able to create localized black holes! N implied that part of the lab's work for the Arahabaki Project was to modify Chuuya's body to be able to withstand the constant gravity effects on it so he doesn't just die. Chuuya's normal use of his ability doesn't seem to have any drastic effects on him, and his physical resilience (to getting hit, stabbed, poisoned, shot, electrocuted, to going through a black hole) does seem to imply they did succeed at least in part.

And this bit here explains why "Arahabaki" was the chosen name for the project; unexplained phenomena across History that can be linked to an ability going haywire, but were attributed to god-like interventions at the time. So you're a funny little mad scientist, you read research papers from another mad scientist that named their own creation after a mythological monster, and you decide to do the same with your own local folklore.

But!

There's still something to be said about how "Arahabaki" is a singularity, and therefore, has its own set of rules. Chuuya does loose control, Chuuya does regress to a sort of destructive instinct while under Corruption. But "Arahabaki" is still no more than an ability singularity. Here's what is said about Guivre and Arahabaki:

They are both singularity life-forms. They exist because they are singularities; outside of it, they are nothing. The inner workings of abilities are still mysterious, but most of them have a link to their wielder's desires. For example, Atsushi's Tiger is there to protect him, a mirror to his will to live no matter what. Verlaine's Guivre is similar:

Guivre was a beast born out of Verlaine's loneliness and resulting hatred. He felt deeply alone in not feeling/being human, and through Pan's (his "creator") special "programming" of Verlaine's ability, N was able to trigger the true form of his singularity with that flare gun and metal powder, which took the form of Guivre. It's what the hat was supposed to prevent, but Verlaine had already lost it by then.

Chuuya's Arahabaki is probably similar. Its first apparition was when Rimbaud tried to absorb him and use his ability for himself, and any subsequent use is linked to grief and survival. Basically, if they're their own entities, they are still born in a specific context and deeply linked to the original ability user's character. And Arahabaki? Only exists if Chuuya uses his activation phrase to get rid of the limitations put into place to prevent him from exploding:

More about about Corruption: SB is kind enough to give us an explanation on how the nullification process works, right here:

Chuuya's self-contradicting ability makes him able to control gravity through the sheer amount of energy it creates by permanently interacting with itself. It is kept under control through the use of an activation phrase, O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again, which, after being either said or thought by Chuuya, will open his "Gate" (which I'm interpreting as a blocker put in place by the lab so the singularity doesn't just kill him, like those poor people they mentioned existed through History), and by opening it, "free Arahabaki's true power" (aka Corruption). When Dazai uses his ability on him, the base self-contradicting ability is nullified, which cancels out the singularity taking place, which stops Corruption and allows that "Gate" to close again. The red markings are there because they're cool and fun.

To conclude, I'll let Dazai do the honors:

bonus: what does that mean for Chuuya's ability?

bons 2: Perceived timeline of Chuuya's past and what happened to to create confusion around his humanity

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vexwerewolf · 18 days

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I’ve been wracking my brain for a while to try and make a Melee and/or Grapple Manticore build. Just standing directly next to things and being a menace. I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on something like this. Thanks for reading regardless if you respond to this one. Love reading your stuff.

Luckily for you, this concept did spark joy.

-- HORUS Manticore @ LL6 -- [ LICENSES ] IPS-N Blackbeard 2, HORUS Manticore 3, IPS-N Tortuga 1 [ CORE BONUSES ] Improved Armament, Titanomachy Mesh [ TALENTS ] Duelist 3, PANKRATI 2, Skirmisher 2, Brawler 1, Combined Arms 1 [ STATS ] HULL:4 AGI:2 SYS:0 ENGI:2 STRUCTURE:4 HP:19 ARMOR:2 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:9 REPAIR:5 TECH ATK:+1 LIMITED:+1 SPD:4 EVA:8 EDEF:10 SENSE:10 SAVE:13 [ WEAPONS ] FLEX MOUNT: Chain Axe FLEX MOUNT: Chain Axe HEAVY MOUNT: Nanocarbon Sword [ SYSTEMS ] Synthetic Muscle Netting, Lightning Generator, Beckoner, Siege Ram

I call this one YOUR PUTRID FLESH WITHERS UNDER THE UNBLINKING GAZE OF MY DIVINE CONTEMPT. We're making a Manticore build; this is not the place for subtle or pithy names.

This is a melee-only build, which I normally recommend against. I think it's good for a build to have at least some sort of ranged attack capability, but in this case, there's just no room for it. We're ride or die here, and diluting the build by hedging our bets is just going to tip the scales towards "die."

You are not particularly fast, so we've got the Pankrati valiant charge and Beckoner to help you close gaps. What you want to do at that point is slam in as fast as you can and try to connect with a Main melee attack (Duelist gives you an accuracy to help with that) - not your Heavy, one of your Mains. You then immediately use Duelist 3 to spend the Blademaster die you just earned to free-Grapple the target, and then you use Titanomachy Mesh to follow up the free-Grapple with a free-Ram (and because they're Grappled, Brawler 1 turns on, making your Ram more accurate, and because being Grappled causes them to become Immobilized, Pankrati 1 also turns on, making your Ram EVEN MORE ACCURATE). Knock your enemy Prone but do not knock them away.

To summarize: your target has taken Main Melee damage from you, become Grappled, then been rammed Prone. Because Grappled causes Immobilization, they cannot use their regular movement to stand up from Prone, and because of Synthetic Muscle Netting, unless they're larger than you, they cannot ever gain control of the grapple.

If they don't have weapons or abilities that knock you away, they have two real options to get away from you. The first is to spend a quick action trying to escape the grapple, which they can fail, wasting the action entirely. Even if they succeed, they still either need to crawl away provoking your Overwatch (use your Heavy for this) or use their entire regular movement to stand back up, then their other quick action to Boost away, again provoking your Overwatch.

The second, if they're the same size as you or larger, is to Ram you back. This is more effective, since your Evasion is low, and knocking you away will break the grapple. This still only leaves you one space away from them, which is still within Threat of your Nanocarbon Sword, and unless they have a modifier that deals damage on Ram (which, to my knowledge, no vanilla NPC does), they've spent 2/3rds of their turn just getting 1 space away from you and standing upright. If they decline to move away from you, you can just stand up on your turn and Skirmish 2 spaces towards them to do the whole thing all over again.

If they are a melee class, their best bet is to focus you down, but with 2 Armor and resistance to two types of damage, that's harder than it looks - and if they're focusing on you, they're not attacking your team's squishies, which is the whole point of the Defender class.

If they're a ranged class, they're fucked. With you up in their grill, their attacks against everyone including you become inaccurate. Artillery NPC classes don't tend to have much HP, and rely on staying far away from players. If a weapon has Ordnance, they can't even fire it at you at all if they're in engagement.

On your next turn, if your target is still grappled, activate your Lightning Generator, and then Barrage. Your attack sequence looks like this:

Chain Axe -> free Ram (Duelist 3), no knockback -> free Ram (Titanomachy Mesh), no knockback -> Nanocarbon Sword

Against unarmored targets, this has a damage floor of 9 assuming all attacks hit, and will slam for 5 even if all your attacks miss. Lightning Generator will do different amounts of damage depending on whether you're in the Danger Zone, but Charged Exoskeleton will always trigger off of Lightning Generator (if you choose) and will always deal 2 AP.

Note that if you're in control of the grapple (which, thanks to SMN, you usually are), you can still make your standard move. This means you can drag your victim 4 spaces towards or away from your friends.

When you turn on your ult, enemies have an even more miserable time, because now not only are there two forms of damage you're resistant to, you're also resistant to Heat (which means you can Overcharge for half price). Worse, any Heat or Energy damage you take now increases a doomsday clock.

Be warned that this build only has 19 HP, and even with 2 Armor you're not going to last forever, but on the other hand, enemies must focus on you or you'll just be able to tear them apart one by one.

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #manticore #ra #mecha #lancer builds

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lightwing-s · 1 year

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batboys as words, as per my own thoughts and perception

A few days back, @igotanidea asked me to describe the bat boys in one word. I got way over my head and ended up writing full on paragraphs on what reminds me the most about them, and what energy I get from the limited knowledge I have of all of them. So I tuned this into a post to fill the emptiness I left this tumblr on and to prepare you for stories to come (yes, Jason x villain!reader is finally coming)

To me, if there’s one word, one thing, that could describe Dick Grayson pretty well, it’s sun. He is like the sun in the sense that he brings life into everything and everyone he touches. He’s a believer in people, in the best we all have in store, and he has a way of making them believe in themselves, in their skills and abilities, making them see the greatness they didn’t notice they owned. He’s a leader, and a great one at that. Although not much of a jokester, he can bring happiness and a smile on people’s faces. He carries a lot on his shoulders, from being the very first Robin to leading the Titans and replacing the Batman, but his heart is too pure and he wants to help people nonetheless, so he keeps taking more responsibilities just so he can assist those he cares for. I’d imagine his love language are acts of service, doing what he can to make his loved one comfortable and happy. In a few words, he’s warmth, silliness, he’s flirting for fun, he IS fun, he’s sugar, spice and everything there is of nice.

If I could describe Jason with one word it would be… caring. Out of all the boys, and out of everything he went through in life, he strikes me as the most protective, the one who will always make sure if you’re alright, if you’re safe, if you’ve been taking your pills or not skipping meals. I know we usually relate him to this aggressive vigilante form, but that’s the Red Hood, not Jason. Jason? Jason is the sweetest, most loving person you’ll find out there. He lost his family and the guy who took him in wasn’t affectionate at all, and he also went through so much. He just wants to protect and feel protected, hence I give him the words care, affection, protection, subtlety. He’s a well stored, well locked, box of surprises, that I’m sure whoever gets to open will feel a love they never had before.

I don't understand as much about Tim as I do his brothers, but from my limited knowledge I think of him as someone who thinks about the details. He’s the guy who, even though you’d never take his aloof mannerisms for that, remembers every small thing you ever told him. Or notices every gentle habit, tick, or whatever it is you have. He’s observant and with that he’ll learn everything there is about you without you needing to tell him a word. He’ll gift you with that thing you spent a millisecond more than usual staring at when you hung out at the mall, or he’ll cook (more like order) that dessert that had you sighting slightly heavier than normal. He is attention, he is detailing, he’s watching the ones you love like the most addicting tv show. He is subtle touches, surprise gifts, random music concerts just because he knows you have that one song hidden on your playlist. He is noticing things not even you, not even your reflection, saw in yourself.

To define Damian in a few words is a bit hard to me, as he’s still young and is still learning about life, developing his own ideals and personality. Hence, having this in mind, to me he is represented best by time. Time to grow, time to heal, time to learn. He is also space. The space he needed to understand his place in the world after leaving the League of Assassins, his mother and grandfather, and joining his dad and his mission for good in Gotham. He’s time and patience to allow all of those things to happen. Not only time for him, but to those he cares for. I feel like he won’t be one to always be on your feet to make sure you’re okay, but that he’ll let you have your time to yourself, rest and put your head into place when you’ve been having stressful days or just don’t feel alright. He’ll only show up after you’ve had your moment, perhaps with food and beverages. He’s quiet kindness, he’s healing, he’s fixing everything even if it takes time. He’s resistance, endurance, fortitude. Overall, he is like a watch, always running, never stopping, but always giving everyone time.

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torchship-rpg · 3 months

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Dev Diary 13 - New Subsystems

Alright, it’s been a while since our last Dev Diary, because we’re been doing a lot of rewriting (and because medical stuff delayed my ability to write a lot for a while). We’re currently working on writing up a new playable draft of the game incorporating lessons learned from the hasty Metatopia rewrite, building new systems to achieve what the first draft did in a smaller and better footprint.

With that in mind, I thought I’d talk about two new subsystems added to the game to make running things smoother in response to playtests, which helps mechanise some of the more abstract issues and sticking points in test games; sensor rules and factions.

Sensors & Scale

In my experience, an issue that arises in almost any Star Trek inspired roleplaying game is that most players are naturally much more cautious than the protagonists of your average television show, and correspondingly are more likely to sit snug in their spaceship for longer and roll lots of scanning rolls when the exciting story thing would be to go and take a look directly (and thus get in interesting trouble). This was a problem that occurred in some of the old playtest Torchship quests, in the metatopia games, and even in some of my brushes with Star Trek Adventures and other similar RPGs long ago.

To get around this, we’ve written up a system for sensors in Torchship which makes it very explicit what they can and can’t discover called Scale. Every sensor has one or more Scales it operates at, in a scale from 1 (microscopic) to 8 (interstellar telescope). This gives both a range you can see things from, and what information you can discover from that distance.

Under this system, a scanner which can gather information from farther away will, inherently, gather less specific information than one which scans closer. A Scale 4 scanner which works on ranges of tens and hundreds of kilometres is also one which lacks the resolution to easily recognize individual people or tools, so if you wanted to find a specific person you’re going to struggle doing it with that Scale of scanner. Fortunately, your hand scanner is a Scale 2-3 device which is perfect for that sort of work, thought limited in range to metres and kilometres so you’ll need to actually get off your butt and into the adventure.

These are soft limits, not hard stops; you can take penalties to scan beyond your normal range or for finer detail than you can normally identify, and higher-tech scanners are better for this because they roll more dice to absorb those penalties, but these limitations mean that gathering the information you need to fill out Checklists and complete objectives will often require you to go down and point a hand scanner at it, or even gather samples to take back to the microscope lab on the rocket.

Of particular note is the ‘orbital gap’, a deliberate hole in the system between Scale 4 and Scale 5. When you’re in low orbit trying to scan the surface of a world, you will almost always be doing with at least one Range penalty, and probably more because high-tech Scale 4 sensors are uncommon on most large spacecraft. This very purposefully makes it inconvenient to just wait upstairs until you roll good enough to see what you want to see; at the very least you will want to take out your shuttle to get close enough to use it without penalty.

You get to choose which scales your spacecraft’s sensors have when you do character creation, which has lots of interesting implications as you try to fit it into the limited options. Do you leave a gap in your sensor coverage in the midband for wider coverage? Do you mount smaller sensors you have to get very close to use? Do you sacrifice some of your short-range detail for long range resolution?

This also makes it easy for us to build sensors into other tools, sensors you can repurpose. Your point defence turrets might have lower-tech specialised radar emplacements at Scale 4 for picking up and tracking incoming missiles, for example, and when you encounter something invisible to your tachyon sensors it makes perfect sense to repurpose it!

A Star Patrol vehicle with a massive tachyon sensor pickup ideal for scanning other star systems across interstellar space, but which is probably going to have a bit of difficulty focusing on something tiny right in front of it.

Factions

The other portion of new mechanics has to do with the diplomatic and political side of the game. As we sat down with the new draft, we made a bunch of notes as we looked over what, exactly, this game needed from first principles before re-adding things, and we came back around to the conclusion that the game should explicitly and distinctly focus on three spheres of Exploration, Politics, and Combat, each of which should have dedicated subsystems which could carry an entire campaign on their own.

We had a strong scientific element in the Checklists and we have interesting combat mechanics, but Politics was lacking in that; while we had ways for players to interact with groups, we didn’t have much mechanical distinction for what those groups were or how they related to one another. This is where the new Factions mechanic comes in.

When you visit a society in conflict, you will find multiple Factions there. Each Faction is a simple mechanical framework for a movement or ideology inside the society that wants something, with a defined membership and a reason they want to have power over their society. Key to this is the Faction’s Influence, a single arbitrary number that tells you how much power the Faction has over their society.

The faction with the greatest Influence is the Ruling Faction, and they matter because the Ruling Faction is the only one whose promises to Star Patrol get kept at the end of the Episode. You can negotiate trade deals for a planet’s titanium reserves with the labour unions all you want; if the Labour faction isn’t in charge by the end of the episode, you don’t get anything from it.

This is coupled with the fact that every Faction has a simple binary opinion of Star Patrol; either they like and trust you or they don’t. Factions are like pilots in that way, though unlike pilots they do have object permanence in the sense that they remember Promises. Promises are mechanically binding agreements to give things to one another, though they only get upheld if the Faction likes you at the end of the Episode (and, again, if they are the Ruling Faction).

If you want to negotiate with a Faction, you have to exchange Promises; Factions don’t do anything for free no matter how well you roll, though you can still negotiate with communication rolls to get better deals. Promises can be immediate aid, like getting supplies for your rocket or their support in a mission, but they can also be resources over long terms at the end of the Episode, in the form of Credits from you and valuable resources, political alliances, or military aid from them.

What makes things interesting is that a Ruling Faction which does not have the majority of the Influence in play with all the Activate Factions is unstable. When things are unstable, Factions have a tendency to make lots of big promises to Star Patrol in exchange for help, often blindly agreeing to trade away things they really need because having the local superpower arbitrate their conflict and hopefully decide in their favour (or even just put the issue to rest, honestly) is worth more to them now than material riches or obligations that are currently meaningless to them.

An unstable society is a big opportunity for the Star Union, but one you have to navigate with care.

#torchship ttrpg #dev diary #ttrpg #torchship #rpg

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samuel-star · 4 months

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Disability isn't "adult".

The fact of the matter is that, even though they would just love to deny it, able-bodied people think that disability is a sign of your age. They avoid acknowledging any sign that a child could have a physical disability, even if it is screaming in their face. An 8 year old is in pain after failing the pacer test and complains that they have shin splints, the bridges of their feet hurt, they feel dizzy. And their able-bodied PE teacher tells them, "that means you don't run enough, those things will go away if you work out more often." And that child will believe them. That kid will internalize that. "All of this pain I feel is my fault. I run around the playground with my friends, but maybe it's because I sit down more often than them. If my shins hurt when I run, but running will get rid of that pain, what am I supposed to do?"

And it takes years of assuming that all of this pain was normal, everyone would experience this if they were lazy, for them to finally go to the doctor. Years of avoidable pain. Years of feeling lazy. And that kid, the child that never learned that the pain could've been relieved, will never forgive those teachers. And those teachers won't give a shit. Of course they won't, why would they? They told a child that they were normal, told a kid that it's something that can be fixed easily with the very exercise that hurts them, that teacher was clearly in the right. Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. A connective tissue disorder that explained everything that they had experienced, down to the smallest thing, even the constant joint popping every time they move. The shooting pains that they would get in a random joint for weeks on end which would randomly just dissipate.

At this point, I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe I wish I could go back, tell that kid that he should tell his mom about the pain in the bridges of his feet. Something that would've helped me in the long run. Maybe I should've told my doctor about my "zombie foot", where I turned my leg 180 degrees around while standing in place.

Because of those teachers, I have to relearn my own limits, understand that if I'm in pain and there's a way to relieve some of it, fucking do it! I know that I've grown as a person since I learned about my disability, but now I'm seeing the rage I never released and I wish I had half as filthy a vocabulary when I was in 3rd grade as I do now! Even just a good "fuck off" would be nice. Knowing that I didn't just take what they were saying as fact. For anyone who read through all of this, you're fucking awesome, and there isn't a person who deserves chronic pain. Nobody "deserves" it. No one is "at fault" for a chronic disability. I'm not disabled because I'm lazy. I have to rest and heal because I'm disabled. Because I'm human!

I'm going to use my wheelchair in public because I know that my hips stop hurting when I use it. I'm going to sit down if my feet hurt because I know there might be less pain later if I take care of myself. Self care shouldn't be something you shame people for, and to anyone who thinks that the validity of my disability depends on how much pain I'm in, fuck you. Fuck you, go learn basic human empathy and get back to me with an apology. I have nothing to prove to strangers, I'm living my life to the best of my abilities, and that means using my wheelchair. Thank you guys for reading, have a fucking awesome day, and drink some water.

#cripple punk #disability #queer cripple #angry cripple #hypermobile ehlers danlos #physically disabled #hypermobile eds #crip punk #cpunk #physical disability #ambulatory wheelchair user #living my life regardless of whether those assholes think I'm “disabled enough”

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weebsinstash · 10 months

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Okay this is probably gonna sound really weird but this specific scenario is stuck in the brain—

Thinking of that version of things where you helped YouTwo make friends, imagine if, in some subjective way, they’re better than you. Not in a “better spider person” way, but more like a slightly more appealing face kinda way? Like you barely look different but if you put your faces into one of those evaluator things they’d get a higher score. Maybe they just have good makeup out smth idk. It doesn’t necessarily have to be this but just some random way that YouTwo is thought of as “better”

But eventually, the spider people start actively treating the copy as the original, because they have it in their heads that the original one they love is the best, so the “better” of the two must be the original. Instead of confusing psychological warfare through mix-ups, reader is actively pushed down and away by the spider people, and at this point they simply move away to a normal part of Nueva York (or their home universe, depending on how we’re doing this) since the rest of the society is clearly happy to focus all their love on the other one.

The good bit comes whenever YouTwo slips up, whether by returning to their home universe if reader’s is supposed to be destroyed, making a bad comment, or just any other kind of mistake that makes the entire lobby pause and look like 👀

Because it’s not just the reveal that they’ve been believing this imposter for potentially months now, but also the fact that they now realise they pushed you away and made you feel like shit the entire time

After whatever punishment they see fit for the imposter is carried out, Miguel is rushing to find where you’re staying now so he can try to apologise or explain or try to make it right or something—

But when he’s standing at your door and running through all the events in his head, seeing how pissed you look at him, he’s wondering how he could ever convince you to love him again (he can’t help but default to kidnapping you and controlling you until you understand a fraction of how sorry he is)

Idk that’s just where brain took me— for me, at least, the best bit is the spoiling and smothering that would take place after, wanted or not!

I wrote this at midnight on my phone soo pls forgive if it’s incomprehensible lol

I'm always incomprehensible with weed or lust so you're good here lmao

Honestly I've been trying to sit and brainstorm 1. How does the Society start mistaking YouTwo for you and 2. How does this actually even work

You know how you can say "hey alexa" and she'll activate and then take further commands, but she's technically always listening to be able to receive the "hey Alexa" command? That's fucking Lyla, dude. I don't know if she's connected to every watch or just some of them but like, dude Lyla is an extremely powerful AI? How would you ever escape? It's not exactly clear how wide-ranging her abilities are, but as a program, she's not limited like you and I are. She can technically be listening and in some way processing and recording every single conversation that someone with a watch is having, or... maybe I'm thinking too much into it but sometimes I'm in the middle of brainstorming a you vs youtwo idea and my brain just goes "well wouldn't Lyla technically be there to set the record straight, wouldn't Lyla technically ALWAYS know who you are?"

And I think the answer to this problem... is to just say fuck it lmao! It's a fanfic and Lyla isn't always technically watching everything everywhere all at once even in canon right? She didn't immediately pipe up when Gwen reconnected with Miles in the beginning of ATSV, even though it technically would have been part of her prerogative to stop anything that would interfere with anomalies or the Spider Society. Technically speaking if I stayed completely 100% canon accurate this is how it would go:

YouTwo: --and they've just been pretending to be me this whole time! Please believe me Miguel, you KNOW it's me 🥺 uwu

Lyla within 5 seconds: heeeeey this is awkward but the electronic signature on your watch says you're the other one though lol? And the go home machine scans your dna and dimensional signature and the original doesnt even have a home dimension anymore? Plus here's some recorded audio from Reader's watch where you were threatening them and telling them no one will believe them if you replaced them, sooo.... awkward!

Like how fucking funny would it be if YouTwo is in HQ and is talking to Miguel and others and really playing their part and Spider Byte suddenly sees you log on this dimension's equivalent of Xbox lmao. Margo just looking back and forth and realizing holy shit. Or Reader deliberately ordering delivery food while YouTwo is out stealing their life or teaching their class and then when the delivery Spider shows up at your apartment that definitely only you have access to, that also helps kinda set things straight

I've even thought of like, you become depressed and start letting YouTwo do whatever they want and one day someone is banging on your front door and it's them "Hey you can't just COMPLETELY disappear, I don't want to work your fucking job everyday anymore, you have all these responsibilities and some of these people ALWAYS want to spend time with you" and you just smirk "oh no, guess that's your problem, 'real me'"

It's like. I'm trying to make it believable but if I ever do write the full fic (which I'm trying to but at this point I'm pulled between many different ideas) I want it to be believable? Like, for example, a lot of my dumb werewolf audiobooks have the protag being bullied and abused, and listening to those makes me MAD. I want readers to read this story and how you/Reader is being replaced and tricked and I want people to FEEL emotions about it, not just roll their eyes "this would never happen/this is so OOC"

But no definitely the yandere rose colored glasses start completely fucking you over, and I think another catalyst is, you seeing how "genuine" all your society friends act when they think it's not the real you you're talking to. Like here's an example i thought of. What if youtwo had the exact same hero name and real name as you and you're out and about one day and Miguel approaches you and he just CALLS YOU A NUMBER. Like say your home universe is 1217 and YouTwo's is 1712 and Miguel just walks up to you, "what are you doing here, 1712? You're supposed to be helping with construction in sector 6" and meanwhile you're just like holy shit do some people legitimately not even call YouTwo by an actual name, are these people more evil than I originally thought, holy shit no wonder YT wanted to steal my life" (and it's partially because depending on the person they either think of YouTwo as a Dollar Tree version of you and are nice to them as well but prefer you, OR they hate YouTwo outright for "daring to defile your image" and have the same voice and face as you, they think youtwo brings shane to you or whatever)

So not only are you starting to become upset about feeling replaced and feeling like you were never important to them to begin with, but then you're realizing that, either overall or with certain actions, that a lot of people are more outright mean and heartless than you originally thought?

And you're standing there "oh YouTwo has smaller pores and clearer skin than me, YouTwo actually knows how to dance at the clubs and parties,

BUT NO the shit where they suddenly start pointing out or criticizing things about you they've never commented on, just all of a sudden they have a LIST of things they dint like about you, when you're rhe same you've always been, SHIT HURTS, THAT'S THE DRAMA AND PAIN I'M LOOKING FOR

Miguel over here finally confronting YouTwo "and your little groveling for everyone's attention is so pathetic! Those empanadas you left on my desk weren't even good! They had all the wrong ingredients and they weren't crispy enough, i had to keep throwing them away--

You: a-actually, um, I was the one leaving you food so that you would eat. The first time came out really bad but i got better after the first time. You didn't like them, or did you not even eat them after the first time? 🥺

Miguel: --and they were fantastic, made me think of my Abuela, really took me back to my childhood, spectacular, outstanding, 5 stars

People start just "sounding off at YouTwo"

Pavitr: you wanted to try and make chai and it was so bitter my auntie poured it down the drain!

Porker: and when I introduced ya to him, you made Roger real uncomfortable with the "jokes" you made about him and his wife, which weren't that funny by the way!

Hobie: your style is conformist, it's like you have no real sense of self identity. Why did I see you at one of my concerts in a shitty leathet jacket and some brand new converse? You don't even know punk lace code, and you didn't even say hi, you just lurked like a creep

You: God DAMN that was ALL me, do you guys like ANYTHING about me????

And like, depending on what I choose or your personal preference I guess, the Spider Society has it rough too! Wait, so YouTwo WAS impersonating you, but it started when you LET THEM, and then there were times you could have came forward but didn't and basically "allowed" yourself to be treated like shit and have everything progress, so there's this, huge lingering doubt in tons of people of "wait so when was I actually spending time with Reader and when was I with the fake? Oh shit you're telling me those times the fake was rude as fuck to me, that WAS Reader, but they were rude because they were mad I didn't know who they were? But they didn't correct me and let me keep being mean to them????". Miguel is over here tearing his fucking hair out because UGH YOU'RE SO FRUSTRATING 😤 why did you let it get so bad, don't you know you could've came to him for help at any time?! (Except he totally lost your trust when YouTwo framed you for that elevator collapse from that one previous idea and he totally 100% thought you did it) but he still loves you and knows You're Going Through It, but, he definitely is. Relieved you're still ok but mad at you? Or disappointed? He's updating Lyla to keep a better eye on you, he's swapping out your watch for one that tracks and stores more information and is more personally customized, he may even decide, maybe he's got a little bit of an anxiety problem after everything that happened and he's paranoid "someone will try and take you away again"

It definitely is not your choice whether you return to the Spider Society or not, and I wouldn't put it past them to have you be "guarded" 24/7 from then on. Why is your Spidey Sense tingling when you're just out in the lobby getting some air? Because even if you can't see your loyal protectors, they sure can see you, from every visible surface, and next time you think you're alone in your apartment, well, some of your buddies CAN turn invisible. Maybe you were never really alone as you thought?

#yandere spiderverse #yandere x reader #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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