#mind you she didn't even know I was not a cis man before she saw my deadname on a card

[flaetsbnortoriginals]

I've just had a dream that was so steeped in Magic: The Gathering lore that I need to post it to tumblr on the off-chance that people who know enough to understand it will be able to read it, because if I tell it to the people I usually tell my dreams to they won't understand a dang thing. Sorry @one-time-i-dreamt

So. The dream was in Ravnica, and was about this planeswalker lady. She was white, with long straight blonde hair, and a fancy blue dress. I have the feeling that I was dreaming I was her before my dream remembered I'm a boring cis man without any amazing powers so as far as I can recall I'm just following her, like the main character of a story. I'm not sure I should call her my OC since she was created without any prompting of my conscious mind but none of the characters in the dream have names so I'll call her that.

OC was walking down a boulevard in Ravnica with this dude. They were pretending to be a couple, but the dude was actually a Dimir spy she had bested and was kind of her prisoner. Dimir guy wasn't very happy about it but wasn't too angry either, he saw his "custodianship" as a work thing and kind of respected OC, so they were chill.

OC saw a woman who she realized wasn't from this plane, although she was pretending to be a local. She challenged Dimir guy to point out what made them realize this. Now I expected this to go like a Sherlock sequence, with each one pointing out a detail in the woman's outfit or some very precise behaviour. Instead, OC starts by pointing out that this woman is wearing

A FRIGGING BRIGHT BLUE SOCCER JERSEY

and not only are soccer jerseys not usual clothes in Ravnica, (at least not until Hooligans at Rakdos Stadium is released), but it also has a giant number on it (77 if you're curious), except that Ravnica uses a different writing system, so any planeswalker would immediately clock her as an outsider. (I think that it's only sort of implied that each plane uses a different writing system, but in the dream that was settled truth.)

OC is so apalled at how poorly this woman - who needs a name, so I'll call her BadKellan for reasons that will soon become apparent - is at hiding herself, she decides to have a word with her. BadKellan realizes she's being followed and hoofs it - but OC and Dimir guy immediately use their Dimir crap to become invisible. BadKellan thinks he's shaken them off, but she's quite rattled, so she goes to her safehouse, which happens to be just around the corner. OC and Dimir sneak in behind her, then make themselves visible.

Now I should tell you that Dimir Guy does nothing else in this story. I was going to say that he's just Ken, he's just there, but it's actually worse - his presence makes the story make no sense, since OC is about to reveal some secrets to some random lady. But the dream didn't forget him: I vividly recall that he was still around all throughout this part of the dream, even though he does nothing else.

So. OC reveals herself and tells BadKellan that what she's doing is very dangerous. She tells her about the Dimir (the guild, not the random guy) and says that if they see her poorly sneaking around and think she's going to be trouble, or even can't figure out what her deal is, they're just going to kill her. Which means it's incredibly dangerous for her to go around like that.

BadKellan reveals a few things about herself. She's from Earth - yes, our real world. She's not a planeswalker. She was brought to Ravnica against her will and told to blend in and pretend to be a local. She doesn't feel comfortable revealing who told her to do that.

OC decides to give BadKellan a few pointers on how to lay low on Ravnica. She explains that she would dress mostly in gray, since colours are strongly associated with the guilds and she should stay away from them to stop making waves. She asks her to change her outift and she'll say if it draws attention.

BadKellan changes clothes. She's now dressed entirely in gray, which is good, except that her shirt

HAS A LARGE, GLITTERING PRINT ACROSS THE FRONT READING

girl

IT'S THE EXACT SAME THING AS BEFORE. IT'S A LARGE PRINT USING OFF-PLANE SCRIPT. It's not as large as the jersey number, sure, but I'd like to remind you that it's glittering!

OC is apparently as taken aback by this as I am, because she turns her into a squirrel.

In fact, she specifically turns her into the squirrel from Bloomburrow key art.

OC's logic is that BadKellan is so bad at blending in that this is the only way she can be safe. OC intends to release "squirrel girl" in a park while she tries to look into exactly whose plans she just ruined and how bad of an idea it was.

There was more to this dream, but my memories are fuzzy and it's (even more) uninteresting. I think it involves the Boros having a special currency that they gain when they help people but the Dimir also use it in a kind of ironic way? I don't remember.

[iam-stargirl]

What I have manifested 🩷

My first post will be about some of the stuff I have manifested. I won’t write every single thing because I don’t remember it all, both “big” or “small”. And I will write a little backstory for them as well for anyone that's curious :)

My first job: I had zero experience and I was told during my interview that it was very unlikely for me to get the job and that they had other people wanting the job as well that were better qualified for the job because they had experience. I didn't waver and just said "okay" with a smile. A couple of weeks later he calls me and says I got the job.

Clear skin: for many years I had acne and pimples which made me very insecure. I tried many different skin care products that had worked wonderfully for many others, but when I used them they didn't work for me. I then affirmed that I had clear skin. After a while I found this product and just had a feeling that I should try it out. Surprise, surprise it worked! My mom was in shock at how much clearer my skin was and how fast it happened, and so was I.

My computer: I had wanted a new computer for a long time as my previous one was really old and I wanted to make an investment in a good one. I listened to a subliminal about manifesting what you want from your Pinterest board by "i want it, i got it" subliminal channel. I made a Pinterest board with the computer I wanted and affirmed “I love my new computer” while listening to it once. I went out shopping with my mom the same day and saw they lowered the price for the computer I wanted. I was so happy but then I thought about how much money I had. It was enough, but if I bought it, I wouldn’t have much left at all, almost nothing. But then I checked my bank account and i had way more money than the day before and I was like ??? I decided to buy it. 

Getting rid of pain: I started getting pain in my hand and it kept getting worse during the day. Later that same day (evening I think?) I could barely move any part of my hand including my fingers. And it was my dominant hand so it was difficult. Just the slightest movement and it would hurt so much. I didn’t know what to do. I tried different things that should’ve helped, but nothing. I then decided to command my subconscious to get rid of the pain because it was getting unbearable and felt like it would either stay like that or get worse. A couple hours later I noticed the pain had lessened but it was still there. Ngl this made me doubt if I could even manifest it away completely. But then I decided to affirm that the pain was completely gone. I kept affirming and affirming even though the 3d showed me the opposite. Eventually i just “went on with my life” and didn’t focus on the pain. The next morning it was GONE. 

Figuring out my gender: One day I would think I was a cis woman. Couple of days later I thought I was a trans man. Then genderfluid then ... It just went in circles for so long. I was so confused and my mental health was bad. It was a very long, sad and exhausting journey and it would be too long to write. And other things in my life were not how I wanted them to be either so I felt horrible in general. But then I read divineangelbee’s tumblr post about commanding the subconscious mind. I was done with all this confusion so I decided to give it a try. I commanded my subconscious to show me in my dream what gender I am.. Next day I woke up and remembered a dream I had. I saw the flags and i just knew that was the answer I had been looking for so long. I finally knew who I was and found peace.

My mom getting an apartment: She was unhappy with the apartment we lived in and wanted to move but she didn’t believe it would be possible. I affirmed even with “bad” circumstances popping up. I affirmed even when my mom was worried because of the why and the how and the money… Time goes by and then she tells me she’s been chosen for one of the many apartments she’d been looking at. She was so happy and we moved soon after!

I hope you enjoyed this!

Stargirl

[itsnatt09]

(Tw for self-harm and abuse)

I just had a really weird ask show up, and instead of airing it (because it implied both that we choose to be gay, and that trans people wouldn't be trans unless we were m*olested as children) I'm gonna talk a bit about my long journey with identity.

Even though I spent a lot of my childhood being pretty confused about myself, I didn't hear the word 'Transgender' until I was an adult in 2009. That year I also got my license suspended for underage drinking and had to move back with my parents for a year. At my parents urging I started going to church activities every week, which is where i met my now ex-wife. I spent 2011 until about 2016 slowly knowing that I was going to come out eventually, but i was doing it all in secret. What I was doing was in pretty stark contrast to my religious upbringing and all the pressure being placed on me to start being a husband, and the huge expectation to have kids.

It culminated in me wearing makeup to my old Home Depot job for about a month, and even though everyone there was pretty ok with it, my parents saw me one day. And the entire situation crashed around me. My parents and my ex let it be known that I was going to stop this forever or I'd be cut off from the family, that I'd be homeless and alone if I continued. They said what I was doing was against God.

And I was so scared I went along with it. Everything fem was thrown away. I shaved my head. I had a kid, even though I had some serious doubts that I would be a good parent. The next 4 years of my life was pretending to be the cis straight man my family wanted me to be.

And it's not a stretch to say that I was dying. I slept 3 hours a day. I went through periods of binge eating and then starving myself. I had a terrible temper. I started working a driving job and every time I got behind the wheel I thought about driving off a cliff. I gave up control of my finances. I let other people decide everything for me. I didn't get pleasure from anything in life at that point, not food or entertainment or even sex. The light was gone from my eyes, hidden behind a big beard and a flannel shirt.

It wasn't until summer 2021 that I couldn't take it anymore. I broke down in front of my ex-wife in a restaurant parking lot while our kid was asleep in the car. It was a 2-day fight where I was called hateful things I've never heard before, by someone who claimed to love me. But eventually she relented. We agreed the relationship between us was functionally over, and I still had an obligation to our son. I started looking for therapy the next day.

All that brings me to now. That ask was sent by an asshole, who doesn't know anything about my life and isn't gonna change their mind based on anything I say. But I do hope there are people who find this and think a little more positively about queer existence. You could say I 'chose to be trans' and you might be right in a way. I was always trans, but I chose to transition. Because the other option was death. I decide my life, not transphobes or my shit family or a shit interpretation of God. Me. Gay people, trans people, all of us *choose* to live in a way that makes us happy. That's it.

[celestial-vapidity]

'your beauty never ever scared me' tidbits (part 1/???)

Hey y'all! I was going to write more for this AU, but AO3 is apparently down rn?? So here are just some thoughts and stuff about this series instead. (There are some NSFW bits, just so y'all know).

As previously stated, Alcina is trans femme in this series. However, she's at a point in her transition where dysphoria isn't really a thing she experiences anymore?? Like, we all been knew she's confident to the point of arrogance, and even if somebody were to openly misgender her (which would probably get them killed lbr) she would be more faintly annoyed/coldly amused than anything. She would probably still retaliate ofc, that's just who she is (and she has an image to maintain).

Like I said before, Reader is AFAB but gender-neutral. So it's up to you if they're a cis woman, trans man, or AFAB enby. However, in the case of the latter two, Alcina would NOT take Reader being misgendered lying down, and would probably react much more harshly toward whoever was doing it, unless Reader was to intervene.

Also, in this series, she secretly had some difficulty learning to sign at first. Like, she has huge hands. But once she saw how happy Reader was that she was learning, she immediately doubled down, to the point where she became fluent surprisingly quickly.

Reader's cane was actually a joint effort between Donna and Karl. Donna supplied the wood from her garden, while Karl put it together and made the claw-rose charm. Alcina didn't mind asking Donna for help, but she really had to swallow her pride to ask Karl.

Alcina is actually kind of nervous about accidentally infantilizing Reader, due to their disabilities. She's good about not doing it, but that doesn't stop her from secretly being anxious that she'll slip up one day and offend them.

Reader is actually Alcina's first serious love. Like, she has had crushes and loved people non-romantically before, but this is her first time really being IN love. It takes her a bit to realize that that's what she's feeling though (and she internally panics a bit when she does), since she's never really been close to anyone outside of Miranda and the other Lords before. She's determined to do it right, though.

When she was a human, Alcina had a bad relationship with her family. They were not accepting of her transition and were the type to demonize her for being attracted to women, but still wouldn't want her to be into men either bc she's AMAB.

She eventually gets to a point where she becomes pretty domestic with Reader, something they are all too happy about.

Alcina also really wants to have kids with Reader at some point, she thinks that they would be an amazing parent. Eventually, they do have Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.

As for Miranda and the other Lords, they're all less evil (as mentioned previously). Miranda for instance is still trying to bring Eva back, but is not doing so by trying to kidnap other people's children this time.

Miranda and the Lords all genuinely care about and love each other as family in this series. Even if some would prefer not to admit it (Alcina and Karl). They all kind of found each other when they didn't have anyone else, so it's very much a found family type situation.

In the beginning of their relationship, Alcina had a hard time being convinced that Reader wasn't afraid of her. However, for Reader, it was something close to love at first sight.

NSFW: As an unexpected result of her Cadou, Alcina now has ruts and a knot (like in an omegaverse setting). She can and does enjoy sex outside of her ruts, but when she is in one, she's nearly insatiable. She gives great aftercare though!

NSFW: Has a lot of kinks, but would never pressure Reader with them. of course. However, if Reader shows interest in them, then that's another story entirely.

NSFW: These kinks include (but are not limited to): BDSM, mommy kink, breeding/pregnancy, blood (obvi), marking, pet play, cockwarming, wife kink (idk what else to call it but she loves when Reader calls her their wife, it really turns her on).

[theoldlesbianwithcats]

goodreads. com/ review/show/6367238737

just saw this review on my goodreads feed (remove spaces in the link)..... im starting to hate bisexual women so much. why would you write a book about lesbians and pose as an expert, you're not a lesbian? i looked up the book out of curiosity....she really talks about how she was a girly girl who kissed boys as a teenager and had crushes on them in the first chapter and how she didnt think she could be a lesbian because she soooo feminine and loved make up and heels.

these women are so fucking selfish. and its so impossible to escape them.

Hi anon! :)

(Here's what anon's linking to.)

This kind of book is becoming so frequent that, before clicking, I thought I knew which book you were talking about aaaaaaand nope, that's another one! In my case, I was thinking of the book "Comment devenir lesbienne en dix leçons" (How to become a lesbian in ten lessons) where the author says this in the first chapter:

There was no irresistible whirlwind. There was no revelation or evidence. I didn't wake up one morning and say to myself: now I'm sure, I love women and that's all I love. I didn't even have a retrospective predestination - as a child, nothing pushed me towards other girls, and even less towards "boyish" activities, contrary to the sexist cliché that would have every lesbian be a former "tomboy". I enthusiastically played the "girly girl" and lived in heterosexuality for a long time, in a certain comfort. I spent almost five years with a cishet man and, although a post-mortem on the dead man will always reveal the plague and cholera, I think it's fair to say that it was a lovely love story, as lovely as they come when they're heterosexual. Nobody forced me, at least not literally, to fuck guys. If anyone had asked me at the time, I would have said I was quite happy as I was. I'm not talking about a bygone era. I still had a lover a few years ago - a cis guy - and I found pleasure in his company, whether it was having sex, chatting or sleepily watching movies. And yet, today, I've become a dyke.

Every single "lesbian guide" that was published in recent years (or is about to be published) in French is by stupid fakebians/polilez who usually have been with men longer that they have been with women and have the gall to say in their books that gold stars are not an authority on lesbianism.

To me, fakebians are a great illustration of the Dunning-Kruger effect (cognitive bias where incompetent people vastly overestimate their knowledge/skills, while experts can underestimate themselves). They're really similar to TiMs in that aspect, TiMs think they know better than us what womanhood is and that we have a "simplistic, normative, close-minded" (= sex-based) approach of it ; fakebians think they know better than us what lesbianism is and that we have a "simplistic, normative, close-minded" (= innate, natural, stable, sex-based) approach of it. Reality doesn't fit their delusions, so that can only mean that reality is wrong 🤡

That's why I encourage every single gold star to speak up about your experiences, you literally cannot be worse representation than this, you can't say anything stupider than what we have right now!

[roboticutie]

Fun fact: when I was a kid around the time of the Lady Gaga "trans or cis" scandal (which she brushed off with so much love and grace and protective anger we love mother monster) I realized trans women exist! But not in like. A trans way. I missed that memo. I just asked my grandma "Wow so women can have penises too?" And she was like "... Well. Yes. Technically, I guess, yeah." She wasn't sure how in depth she should go with a like 10-ish year old who, 2 years prior had a whole deal about wanting to put male instead of female on the standardized tests which concerned Everyone and like 2 years before that insisted on being called a tomboy bc then I was 'being called a boy', but she's hip she's queer granny so fostering acceptance is important. Only she wasn't clear enough and I processed this with a "oh cool" and never considered surgical procedures as part of the trans. I just thought. They were born with a penis, but somehow we just... Knew they're women, actually, and the doctor was like yep this is a woman! And then they just grew up like that and would have every other aspect of a girl's life like any other girl. I didn't even bother to question how a doctor would know the difference maybe the doctor picked the gender actually they're so mysterious and maybe medical school taught you how to do that who knows, so I lived with this misconception for a while. (There is an intersex condition kind of like this concept but not really and doctors definitely aren't cool about it nor do they pick anyone's gender actually, they just guess)

Anyways it didn't occurr to me that trans men exist until I was 13, bc I never saw one/knew I saw one anywhere until much much later when I met one personally online. And I'm a trans man. But like somehow the inverse of this concept never came to mind I just thought having a dick gave you more options I guess, and I'm not sure when it really clicked that surgery was part of transition (for many trans people) it just clicked at some point between those two realizations

There is no moral to this. I just think this is funny. Maybe if you squint it's like... Good thing trans stuff is more understood to kids now, and all different kinds of trans lives? But also I thought heterosexuality and homosexuality were both running jokes until I was 6 because I'm autistic and bisexual and couldn't conceive of only liking men OR women, not "both and anyone else too" as I put it to my mom when I was in kindergarten, so. Maybe the moral is kids are dense and everyone understands the world differently and it takes time to learn about each other so take the time to teach each other. Also if your kid somehow knows girl and boy aren't the only options maybe ask them abt that and see why they figured that out all on their own when they don't even know what being trans is what the fuck was up w me as a kid

[endpapcrs]

xolo maridueña . he/him. cis man. ›spotted at the met steps , sebastián luis dominguez herrera , most likely listening to people watching by conan gray with their airpods pro . the twenty-four year old gained quite a reputation , known to be absent minded yet romantic to anyone who knows them . you'll easily spot them when you hear about pomegranate juice staining fingers and sleeves, bundles of thorned roses cut and tied together by hand, and tangled cords and pedals crowding a studio floor, followed by giorgio armani aqua di gio . latest nepoupdates article talks about how they are trying to start a cult, but i guess any reputation is good reputation .

*˖ ⊹       basics        ☆ﾟ

name : sebastián luis dominguez herrera ( seba, or goes by luis to some of his family )

age : twenty-four

pronouns : he/him

orientation : heterosexual

place of birth : veracruz, mexico

occupation : music producer

zodiac sign : scorpio

*˖ ⊹       bio        ☆ﾟ

seba's biological mother was a young woman who knew in her bones when she found out she was pregnant that she wasn't ready for the baby. she had no idea who the father was, and still in high school with dreams of continuing on through university, she didn't have the funds or the support system to raise a child, so she made the smart decision to put him into the adoption system. being a young baby, with big eyes and a happy temperament, it wasn't long until he was selected for adoption by a young couple who had been hoping for a baby, but had come to figure that they probably were incapable of having one.

seba's adoptive mother was a prominent mexican scream queen and his adoptive father who was a famous tejano musican who had grown big for his beautiful love songs. it wasn't long after they had taken seba home that their miracle baby, baby luna, was born. young enough not to remember the adoption process and raised in a family that had nothing but love for him, seba grew to know the dominguez herrera family as if they were his biological parents, and he loved baby luna the most. the two siblings were practically inseparable as kids, constantly getting into mischief together.

the family was a big name when they were kids, raised in a community of people who all seemed to know who they were were before they could even walk. growing up, however, their public perception began to shift : their mother, eager to adopt the strangeness that came with her movie roles, had spurred rumours that the family were brujas. seba, raised in an environment that had always been full of year-round halloween decorations, the long, black, sweeping robes his mother would wear and the bizarre hobbies luna would take up never saw anything wrong with the way they were living.

in fact, the criticism placed upon the family confused him. he was unable to determine why the other kids in their classes didn't like the two dominguez herrera children, so most of their snide comments would roll of seba's back. in fact, he had picked up his mother's eccentric charm and father's dreamy personality : and from a young age seba had figured out that putting those two things together gained points in his favour to those around them who were immediately distrusting. he would wear his heart on his sleeve, parading it around to the other students : see, i'm just like you, even as he was showing up to school in exaggerated costumes that would match the ones his mother would wear on screen.

when his parents pulled seba out of school alongside his sibling, moving them away to new york, seba was disappointed. always an extrovert, he found it difficult to stay focused on his home school studies. his attention would always drift elsewhere-- to the plans he would make with ' friends ' outside of his home library walls, or the instruments and unfinished songs that were scattered across his bedroom floor. books and papers and pens were never particularly seba's thing.

looking for ways out of his studies, and not interested in acting classes like luna, seba would spend almost all of his time trailing after his father. he learned the intricacies of music from him: the cultural importance, the history, the ways different instruments could be used to create different impacts. for once, it was something that seemed to catch seba's attention, and he threw himself in full force. he picked up all sorts of instruments, from the accordian to electric synthesizers. like the rest of his family, he was fascinated by sounds, how they interacted with each other, and what he could do with them.

it was around the time seba was fifteen that his parents told him his biological mother wanted to meet him. they respected whatever decision he made and wanted to give him the opportunity to decide for himself. seba agreed, and over the next few years slowly began to develop a relationship with the woman who had birthed him. the dominguez herrera family were his family, and luna was his sibling, but he felt a sense of obligation to the woman who clearly wanted to have a relationship with her biological son. it was difficult to do that, however, while she was still in veracruz and they had moved to new york, so the relationship he formed with her spanned mostly through email and the occasional visit.

seba helped luna and their father produce two albums on latin american folklore and folk music named Musas vol. 1 and 2. while luna was fascinated by the stories they were telling through the music, seba wanted to reflect that in the sounds of the music. it was working on these albums that seba learned the most from his father on how music production worked ; and it was the thing that confirmed for him it was what he wanted to do. the siblings were some of the youngest latin grammy winners, with Musas vol. 2 winning two latin grammys.

after that, seba began working with luna to produce most of her music. together they collaborated on a few different albums ( see: stuff by the marias, specifically superclean vol i and vol ii. ) he also collaborated with some other young artists, slowly helping luna to solidify the dominguez herrera name in the amercian music industry.

growing up somewhat isolated and only surrounded by his loving family, seba was also naive. in a household where his father was consistently writing love songs for his mother, and witnessing the (seemingly) pure love they had for each other, it became something that seba dreamed as the ideal for himself. since he was old enough to understand what relationships were, seba started throwing himself into them with full-force, often times in an intense manner that moved far too fast for the time that he had been within them. he would always end up getting his heart broken, either when his own interest fizzled out or the other person pulled away, and so as he aged, he became incredibly wary of relationships. they became an unattainable ideal as though to keep his fragile heart in check : he liked to chase, to leave handpicked bouquets of flowers on doorsteps or write love songs to play on guitar, but the moment that someone reciprocated that interest he got cold feet and ran.

currently he's working on the early parts of producing a new full-length album with luna ( the marias, cinema ) but she's preoccupied with other things so he's not too committed to it right now.

*˖ ⊹       personality        ☆ﾟ

seba and luna are two sides of the same coin, though seba is a little bit more toned down. he is equally as pretentious and extra, loving his big soft bathrobes and going around and helping luna light all the candle lamps in their house every evening. he's a lot more outgoing than luna, though. if they're the introvert, seba is the extrovert. he's always eager to make friends ( & potentially more... man is falling in love like 3 different times a day with 3 different people. ) he's such a dreamy romantic, so loves the idea of big romantic gestures and romantic things like the sound of rain and as i said before, bundles of handpicked flowers, but because he's scared of getting his heart broken so easily he's also very difficult to get to tie down in one place and he gets very flighty and fidgety when someone wants something like " real " with him. loves the chase though and loves being flirty. doesn't like feeling trapped and that includes committing to one person baby !! he is very charming though, even if he's very weird and definitely says some shit that he only gets away with because pretty privilege exists. owns a big boa constrictor named pablo neruda after the poet ( though he just calls him pablo. ) very much one of those ' the arts are so important !! you gotta support them !! " people. he is naive and gullible and will believe anything anyone tells him.

*˖ ⊹       potential connections        ☆ﾟ

tba !

[gildcdglory]

APPLICATION.

*     ◟    :    〔   aldis hodge  , cis man    +   he/him    〕      grey laurier,  some say you’re a thirty-seven-year-old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being disciplined and disloyal,  one can’t help but think of achilles come down by gang of youths when you walk by. are you still a defective assassin / private security at red eye / gravity nightclub, even with your reputation as the betrayer? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and an abandoned wedding ring sitting on your bedside table, eyes cautiously watching the shadows, a guilt that never leaves your chest, although we can’t help but think of geralt of rivia (the witcher), levi ackermann (attack on titan), and jethro gibbs (ncis) when we see you down these rainy streets.      (  alyx, 25, she/her, est )

FILE.

full name: grey laurier

age: thirty-seven

gender / pronouns: cis man, he/him

orientation: demisexual

affiliation: defective assassin for red eye

occupation: private security at gravity nightclub

family: caroline laurier (wife, deceased)

faceclaim: aldis hodge

inspiration: geralt of rivia (the witcher), levi ackermann (attack on titan), jethro gibbs (ncis)

Pinterest

BIOGRAPHY.

KIDNAPPING TW, DEATH TW, MURDER TW

The beginning of your story remains a slight blur. You remember traveling through Europe alongside your family one summer--- your young feet unable to keep up with your parents' quick pace. You remember getting separated from them in a crowd--- your eyes wide and panicky as unknown figures meld together. You remember a kind woman grabbing her hand and offering you words of comfort in Russian--- your eyes softly drifting close as you let yourself be swept away from the crowd and into the life of the red eye.

The rest of your childhood consisted of harsh regiments and strict schedules. You never saw your family again, but as months went on, you began to forget they even existed. In your mind, the red eye was your true family. They raised you from nothing. They trained you and gave you a purpose in life. They valued you for your skills as well as your very presence. You desired to be the best, to morph yourself into their perfect soldier, all to make sure you're not abandoned like you were back then.

And you accomplished that goal. You completed every mission you were assigned. You made sure there were never any loose ends or pieces of evidence floating around. You became someone they knew they could count on, but that changed when you met CAROLINE. She was a CIA agent assigned to investigate the death of one of your victims, and you were sent to watch her and make sure she didn't connect you to the crime. You had never been in love before, but seeing her felt like floating on a cloud. You were smitten from day 1, and that feeling only intensified as you watched her work. She was throughout and no-nonsense, and you knew she'd be a good match for you.

Caroline wound up not being able to tie you to the crime, and you were able to avoid any further actions on your part. If anything, it gave you the freedom you needed to finally talk to her. The two of you connected right away, and a couple of years later, you found yourself married and in love. You never told her that you were tied to the red eye or that the crime scene she investigated was a courtesy of you, and she never told you that she worked for the CIA. As far as the two of you were concerned, you were just an ordinary couple who met in a big city.

You wished your lives could've been that simple. You began to long for the white picket fence and the children running around your feet, but fate had other plans in store for you. Caroline began investigating another death (courtesy of another red-eye agent), but this time, she found evidence at the crime scene: a few locks of hair were left near the murdered victim. The discovery alarmed your bosses, and you were sent the dreaded message later that day: assassinate Caroline Laurier.

You didn't know if they intentionally chose you for the job to punish you for allowing her to pry into the deaths, or if you were just the closest agent at the time. Either way, you were forced to carry out the request. In your mind, it was better this way. If you refused the order, they would just send another agent to finish the job. At least you'll be able to spend Caroline's final moments with her. At least you can say you're sorry one last time.

Caroline's death destroyed you. You became a shell of a man--- wracked with guilt and unable to accept the blood on your hands. You shut yourself off from red eye and abandoned all forms of communication in a bid to send them a message--- I'm through with this life. You knew it didn't work like that--- that one doesn't just leave red eye on their own volition. No, you're aware they won't stop hunting you down, that you're a loose end in their organization. You knew, but you didn't care. Let them come after you. Let them try and finish you off. Perhaps you deserve a brutal death. It would at least get you one step closer to atoning for your sins.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

THE MIRAGE: Grey is haunted by memories of his wife. Your character is someone who looks almost identical to her. The sight of you unlocks something in Grey--- a curiosity? an obsession? a way to continue to beat himself up over the loss of Caroline? No matter the reason, he can't help but watch your character and long for the day when he can strike up a conversation--- if only to let himself finally accept that your character isn't a ghost from his past.

THE VENDETTA: Your character is the one who gave Grey his last assignment, and now he's on a mission to make your character feel the pain he's currently going through. He knows it's a suicide mission waiting to happen, that he should just remain low until time forgets about him, but love and grief can drive a man to do irrational things. He won't rest until he can get revenge- even if it kills him in the process.

THE HANDLER: Your character is the red-eye agent assigned to track down and bring Grey back to headquarters. The relationship is UTP--- could be someone who hated Grey and can't wait to see him killed, or it could be an old friend who quietly hopes Grey can slip out of their grasp. Either way, I expect a painful reunion and a discussion about the price it pays to be a red-eye agent.

THE FOLLOWER: Since Grey's inspiration includes Geralt of Rivia, your character would be the Jaskier. Just someone more on the goofy/light-hearted side who wants to break through Grey's serious demeanor. He's pretty much shut himself off from connections after the death of his wife, but your character won't seem to rest until they can make him crack a smile.

[duckylvlace]

Full Name: Declan James Lovelace

Nickname(s): Ducky DJ

Age: 32

Date of Birth: October 31st,

Hometown: Ottawa, Canada

Current Location: Suburbs

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: He/they

Marital status: Single, complicated.

Children: n/a

Orientation: click here

Occupation: personal assistant, etc.

Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish.

Face Claim: Logan Lerman

tw: parental neglect

You’ve never known father love, but that never mattered much to you as you couldn’t miss what you never knew. The one guardian you had, your mother, made sure there was always a male presence in your home, always chasing after a man who promised her the world for a few months before he took off. They always took off. That neglect and push you felt kept building up, being forced from so young to fend for yourself, learn to navigate the beauty and horrors of the world from such an early age. Not once did you ever get to experience the joyous innocence of being a child. Did you?

School was your safe haven, and even though you never had the best grades you tried your best. I saw all that effort you put in, the way you had to reuse old materials just to hand in a project on time. But it wasn’t easy as whenever another one of the thousand men left, your mother became a belligerent mess, and even as you sequestered her, laid her upon her bed, you felt her cold eyes on you.

She blamed you didn’t she? Blamed you for all the heartbreak and turmoil, and how it had always been you at the root of it all. You who chased the men away because at the end of the day, they didn’t wish to take care of two mouths. She kept it quiet for a long time, kept building it up until one day, one long sip drew it all out. As the bottle shattered on the floor, so did your heart as she spew hatred towards you, said you were her worst mistake, the first that led to her downfall. The byproduct of the first man to break her heart, but not the last.

Weren’t you kicked out shortly after that, or did you run away? I can’t quite remember, but you did sleep on the streets for a little. That is until someone took you in, a friend, I believe, someone who gave you the kind of solace you never knew you needed. At first you were cold and distant, afraid that the kindness was just a ploy, but little by little you grew warmer, felt the sincerity in their actions and something in you bloomed as well.

Life hasn’t been easy for you, and you’re still dreaming of going to school, fashion and design was it? Something you’ve always loved, the ability to create and innovate, but all that requires money, the one thing you’ve never been able to hold onto for long. So what will you do now? Stay in this town, find love? Or follow in your mother’s steps?

PERSONALITY

Ducky is as effervescent as they come, he'd bright and witty and could light up a room with a smile. Or so he likes to believe. A guy whose never shied away from speaking his mind, regardless if it comes off as tactful or not. He's fun, he's flirty, and you'll definitely know if he likes you because he'll say it to your face. Underneath all the smiles and laughs there is a boy who believes he doesn't deserve love or that he's easily replaceable, and he clings onto a sliver of hope that someone will think worthy of him enough to stay.

BACKGROUND / BIO

As the boy grew he began to notice the slew of men coming in and out of his home. At first he didn't understand why each and every time it made his mother grow more distant, but he knew that every single one that stepped out the door, took a little piece of hope from her. School became a safe haven, where he could immerse himself into studies or whatever activity he could get his hands on. Some seemed a little too rough for Ducky, but dance, cheer, figure skating, it all sort of just clicked. All he wanted was to not be home, for a few extra hours away from that place.Then at the ripe age of sixteen, Ducky found that he had no home, an argument, some words best left unsaid had left it at the door with all his belongings unsure of where to go from there. It had been a struggle for those few years, but with odd jobs and friends he managed to survive. Couch surfing, sleeping at shelters you did everything, until one day working at the makeup counter at the mall, one simple task changed your life. A woman whisked Ducky away into the life of a personal assistant, teaching him every trick in the book, paying for his schooling, and ensuring that he had a place to stay. Now years into this job he's found his footing and ready to take on the world, or at least the next makeup launch.

[redheadbigshoes]

Hello, I need someones opinion on something, particularly maybe someone who is a lesbian.

I'm someone who is attracted to multiple genders and who is genderfluid (I'm afab and for the most part I usually feel as mostly male, only sometimes female). I usually use they / them bc those feel the most neutral but also she, her (the rarer for me to use) and he, him depending on how I feel.

So, despite being attracted to multiple genders I have a HUGE preference for people who are particularly feminine presenting (women, men, fellow nb) and while I have been attracted on occasion to individuals who are mainly masculine presenting (women, men, fellow nb) its definetely not common for me to be attracted to them, it's a rare occasion actually.

That being said I'm not usually attracted to butch sapphics, I still find butches aesthetically pleasing (bc they're beautiful and awesome) but I'm just not particularly attracted to them for the most part.

Someone told me that it's weird that I'm genderfluid (since my gender expression doesn't fit whatever stereotype she had in her head) and that I'm kind of messed up that I'm not rlly attracted to butches since at the end of the day I'm "a girl who loves girls" and even if I prefer fems I should still find butches hot (not a girl and she knew that! the misgendering was unnecessary).

The fact that I'm queer for queer (aka I need someone I'm with to be lgbtqia+ in some form, I could never be with a cishet man!) and particularly also nb for nb / t4t came up in the conversation and she went on about how me being nb4nb / t4t makes me lesbophobic for only wanting to be in a relationship with fellow nb and trans individuals.

Idk, honestly the whole conversation had me both incredibly drained bc she continuously misgendered me and also rlly confused in a way.

It's my understanding that nonbinary people are included in lesbianism. – pls correct me if I'm wrong 🙏 – so I don't see how that's lesbophobic.

My relationship with gender is complicated, I go through a lot of dysphoria tho I don't know if I'll ever have any permanent changes yet.

Bc my gender expression is different than what you would expect from an afab individual who is genderfluid that mainly feels as male most of the time, it's rlly easy for people to misgender me – I feel like a man more often than not but I feel as though I am a feminine presenting one so misgendering me as an afab person is rlly easy and unfortunately it happens ALL OF THE TIME.

I have found that I need to have an understanding and a sense of relatability with the person I'm with when it comes to the certain aspect of going through life as a nb person. The thought of ever realizing that whoever I'm with doesn't truly see me as I AM but rather actually sees me as 'woman light' breaks my heart in ways I can not express and that still hurt to this day (yes this has happened! The person I was with was with a cis gay woman and I'm still dealing with so much internalized transphobia that came back full force after that).

She was a lesbian yes, but lesbianism includes nb people (to my understanding) and I was always open with her about my gender and how I feel. Yet, somehow at the end of the day she still just saw me as a woman, she didn't even care about how much that hurt or maybe didn't understand, she even made a joke out of it and then also said that I HAD to be woman bc she was a lesbian and that it's a good thing that I don't have any permanent change and should not change my mind on that in the future bc it doesn't matter, she actually said "because even if you change anything you're still gonna be a woman! But go ahead and play make-believe". I cannot express how shocked and heartbroken I was, she had never said anything like that before when I spoke with her on these topics but when I think back to those times she also didn't say much and changed the subject quickly. I feel like an idiot for not realizing what she was like sooner.

I know she was just a bad experience and that there's sooo many people out there in the lgbtqia community who are not like that but I felt like a fool for not seeing her for who she really was and felt so unbelievably hurt! it broke me for a good while and brought up so much internalized transphobia that I thought I was done dealing with.

After that experience I just felt and still feel like I can only be in a relationship with someone who is queer in terms of gender as well, but THAT doesn't mean that I rule out lesbians (or any other sexual orientation) bc once again to my understanding lesbianism includes nb lesbians.

Idk, is it wrong for me to only want to be with fellow nb and trans people? To want that sense of safety and understanding?

Is my understanding of lesbianism correct and it rlly does include nb people?

Am I the in the wrong for not rlly being into butches and for being nb4nb/t4t?

(I'm sorry this is so long btw)

Hi! First you don’t need to be sorry, I don’t mind long asks.

I want to say I do relate to not really being attracted to butches (though it can be different for both of us because from what you said you’re still attracted to them, but that’s something more rare to happen, correct me if I’m wrong tho). There will be always shitty people. I’ve seen countless of times people saying not being attracted to butches is wrong, and I think that comes a lot from a place of misogyny, because a lot of those people seem to relate being masculine with being a man, or see masculine as something better (even if they do that unconsciously), so when they see someone not really attracted to butches/masculinity they find it absurd and try to invalidate you.

That person was not only being transphobic with you by misgendering you but she was the one being lesbophobic. Yes you’re right, lesbianism includes non-binary people (just like all sexualities). It’s not messed up not being attracted to butches, you don’t choose who you’re attracted to, and “being a girl who likes girls” doesn’t mean you necessarily have to be attracted to butches. That’s very lesbophobic because it doesn’t make anyone less lesbian not being attracted to butches.

I’m so sorry you deal a lot with transphobia and people misgendering you. You don’t deserve that. People shouldn’t assume you’re a certain gender identity just because you look more feminine.

You don’t deserve the person you were with. From what you said she was extremely toxic and selfish, why would you need to change your identity just because she’s a lesbian? That’s something so absurd to think.

Answering your questions: of course it isn’t wrong to only want to date other non-binary people/trans people, you’re doing that for safety, that’s not the same as completely excluding a whole sexuality besides straight from your dating pool (people a lot of times do that treating as if that sexuality they’re excluding is also not a minority). Yes, your understanding of lesbianism is correct, it includes nb people. You’re also not wrong for not being attracted to butches, we don’t choose who we’re attracted to, people forcing you to be attracted to someone you’re not are disgusting. And you’re also not wrong for being t4t (as I’ve previously said).

My dms are always open if you want to talk with someone, and if you’re still not comfortable coming off anon you can always send more asks if you want.

[butchwheels]

i think many people will judge strangers yet do the same behavior themselves. if you are trans/nonbinary, think back to the past couple times you saw a gender conforming person and talked about them, and conceived them in your mind. did you refer to them as they/them? gender neutral language? did you hesitate before you said sir or ma'am or lady, guy, woman, man, etc? why not? because they conformed enough for you? because they were too old for you to think they're trans/nb? because they didn't look nonbinary/trans? where do you draw the line? because i'm fairly sure you draw the line somewhere, even my nonbinary friends admit it. this isn't an accusation or a way to shame anyone, but that line is important to keep in mind and discuss. it's unfortunate that english is a gendered language, but the lgbtq community does need to work within it and talk through these issues.

if you demand that people use they/them pronouns and gender neutral language the second they see someone as too androgynous to be binary, that means there's now rules on who is conforming enough vs who is too different to be a man/woman and it reeks of sexism. it others masc women and feminine men. it tells them "hey you don't look man/woman enough to me, what are you?" and while that may be validating to some nonbinary people, it's also othering for people who are trying to normalize gender nonconformity in society, and expand what is accepted within manhood & womanhood. it also erases nonbinary & trans people who aren't visibly androgynous. what does that mean when our goal as leftists is to free people from restrictive gender norms? there's going to hopefully be more and more gnc people, and they shouldn't all be assumed trans. many people in the trans community reinforce this behavior in both trans & cis people they know, to ask anyone too androgynous their pronouns/gender but no one else. and i think it can be harmful for everyone.

and if you say there's no way to identify a nonbinary person in a crowd, what does that mean in circumstances that aren't a relative/friend/coworker being purposefully shitty, going against your preferred pronouns/gender? there needs to be a talk about what the trans/nb community wants cis strangers to do, and consistency in it. a lot of the transphobia going on is frustration born out of confusion, because all of the sudden the english language is being used in a radically different way than its original sex-based usage, and interactions between strangers are forever changed, at least in more progressive circles. she/her and he/him were initially invented for convenience to refer to sex. now that there's more knowledge of trans issues and they/them pronouns in society, where do we go from here? how do we do this without reinforcing sexism & misogyny?

[chlorine-tangerine]

I'm just ranting here

But I'm a little tired of the narrative that all trans people were miserable before they transitioned. I know that's the reality for most people, and for me to a certain extent, but speaking from a personal standpoint, I was cis for the majority of my life and wasn't miserable about it. I enjoyed doing my long hair in different ways, learning to use a hair stick, and picking out new dresses. I wasn't a total girly girl, but I was moderately femme. I was boy crazy like the teen girls in media, and there wasn't any reason for this to change.

And yet it did. I never wanted anything to change, I was happy with my dresses, but something in my mind shifted all of a sudden and now I don't ever want to wear a dress in public anymore. I didn't know I'd want this even a year ago, so I can't relate when someone says they've known their entire lives. I wanted to be the best ally to trans people I could as a cis person, but I never knew what gender euphoria or dysphoria felt like until it hit me.

So when this first started happening, I was confused and didn't want to call it "being trans" because... I was content with how I presented before, what gender people saw me as was not an issue to me. So if it wasn't a problem before, surely this is just a temporary thing, I told myself. In the beginning I'd only felt euphoria and created this fantasy of being seen and loved as a man, but it never felt real enough that I can call it being trans because we're all more familiar with the dysphoria narrative. If I don't experience dysphoria then surely I'm not trans?

I was never at odds with my assigned gender before I realized I was trans, I liked being seen as a girl. And for the most part it served me well, but now I grew out of it, and now every time someone uses she/her for me I cringe a little (even though I was so happy to get a she/her pronoun pin last year). I think it'd be nice if there were more people who understood that it's still real and valid if you realized it later in life instead of during your childhood or teen years. Also goes for romantic/sexual orientation ofc, but I wanted to focus on transness

[kradljivac-kostiju]

homophobic/transphobic people really like saying that women are weak, stupid and must clean while men are the opposite and should do hard jobs to defend their "a relationship can't work if it's not a cis man and a cis woman!!!" views

[dickwheelie]

@coulson-is-an-avenger thank you sm for the jonsasha prompt!! sorry this took so long but here's a fic about jon and sasha brushin each other's hair :) with a bonus gender discussion(tm)

___________

Jon leaned back against Sasha's legs where she sat on the sofa above him, feeling her gently tug his braid loose, his hair tumbling into her lap as she began to comb through it. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting himself relax.

"I've always been jealous of your hair," Sasha said, as she started brushing it out. "So long and lustrous . . ."

"Hah!" Jon barked out a laugh. "Lustrous is not a word I'd use to describe anything about myself."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. Maybe your skin needs work, but your hair is doing fine."

"Oh, well, thank you," Jon said. "Wait, my skin needs--?"

"Why do you keep your hair long, anyway?" Sasha went on. "I mean, it looks good, but you don't seem the type."

Jon snorted. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Sasha said cheerily. "Just, you know, the whole male academic persona." Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw her hand wave theatrically at the words. "You dress and act so straight-laced at work, I guess I'm just surprised your hair didn't go along with it."

Jon worried at the hem of his cardigan. The soft, casual cardigan he'd worn to Sasha's flat because it was his day off, and he didn't have to dress in stuffy, professional clothing so nobody would figure out he was a fraud who didn't belong in a head archivist position. "I just always liked keeping it long," he said. "Couldn't tell you why. Just feels nice, I guess."

"You know," Sasha said pointedly, "I used to want to keep my hair long for reasons I couldn't explain, either."

"I--" Jon began to protest, then closed his mouth and tried again. "I . . . I've thought about it. Believe me, I've--" He laughed humorlessly. "I have thought about it. But I'm sure I'm cis. I-I mean, by now, I'd know otherwise. Right?"

Sasha hummed as she tugged at a stubborn tangle. "Not necessarily. I've met lots of people who didn't know they were trans until they were in their forties, or older."

"W-Well," Jon said, and then didn't know what else to say. For a moment, he just sat there, losing himself in Sasha's steady pulls of the brush, the feeling of her hands running through his hair. "I mean," he said eventually, "I'm not a woman. I know that much."

"Okay," Sasha said, and was quiet. Jon recognized her "letting him talk it out" voice.

"And I'm not uncomfortable with being a man." Jon sighed. He hadn't been prepared for this conversation, and he didn't feel like digging too far into it. "Maybe I'm just a man who likes having long hair. What's wrong with that."

"Absolutely nothing," Sasha said, and he felt her press her lips to the top of his head before returning to the brush. "I think it's handsome."

"Ah. Thank you," Jon said, with a twitch of a smile.

Soon Sasha had finished with his hair and tied it back up in its braid, and they swapped places. Jon could accept Sasha's compliments about his hair's lustrousness, or whatever, but faced with her dark curls he didn't understand how she could ever be jealous of his hair, or anyone else's, for that matter. Sasha's hair was so . . . he didn't even know, he just loved it. It wasn't quite as long as his, but it was a beautiful, rich dark color, almost black but not quite. The texture as he ran his hands through it felt astonishingly nice; he was reminded of the stim toys he used to play with when he was younger.

Sasha's hair didn't need brushing out like his did, so instead he just evened out the center part and ran through it with a comb. He spent the majority of the time carding his hands through it, careful not to tug on the strands. Sasha leaned warmly against him, her back up against his calves, her legs splayed out comfortably in front of her. Her head was tilted up at him and her eyes were closed, with a peaceful look on her face.

"How long did it take you," Sasha said at one point, her voice low and relaxed. "To grow your hair out."

Jon had to think a moment. "Last time I had it cut was . . . almost two years ago, now. I remember because I'd just gotten an interview for the researcher job and I wanted to look . . . presentable. Male academic persona, and all that."

Sasha laughed. "Right."

"Before that it was pretty long, past my shoulders. That was how I kept it at uni too. This is the longest it's ever been, though," Jon said, as he tugged at a strand of his own hair absentmindedly. "I guess the Institute's kept me so busy I forgot to get it cut again."

"Well, if you like it that way, why waste the money?" Sasha said, quite reasonably. "Besides, I stand by what I said. Your hair's a gift, don't waste it by cutting it off." She reached above her head and waved a finger at him. "Unless you want to. Don't let me tell you what to do. God knows I know a thing or two about other people telling me what to do with my hair."

Jon laughed. "I won't. I want to keep it long, anyway." He was glad Sasha liked his hair like this. Georgie had been the same way, encouraging Jon not to cut it. He'd had friends in the past express confusion about his hair, but he'd gotten pretty skilled at ignoring them. It took a job interview, apparently, to change his mind. Jon wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

Well, no, that wasn't true. Bad, that was how he felt. Walking around those first few months in research with his hair cropped short, wearing those stuffy outfits . . . he'd never felt more like an imposter. The day he realized his hair had finally grown back past his shoulders had been a very, very good day.

His work clothes hadn't really changed, and his persona hadn't gotten easier to play, but now he had his hair, and his nails, and even the occasional earring studs he'd wear, if he was feeling brave.

And Sasha. And Tim. He had them, too, and they were two very good people to have in one's corner.

Impulsively, he reached down and gave Sasha a hug around her shoulders. It was a bit of an awkward angle, and he had to lay his cheek on the top of her head, but she reached up to hug him back anyway.

"What's this for?" Sasha said, but she didn't let go.

"I don't know," Jon said softly. "I love you, that's all."

"Well, if that's all," Sasha said. She gave him a few pats on the arm, as well as she could reach. "Don't mess up my hair, now, or you'll have to comb it again."

"Oh, no," Jon intoned, "what a horrible fate."

"You're not funny, Sims."

"I'm hilarious."

Sasha grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it, which Jon suspected was a last-ditch effort to derail the conversation by flustering him. It worked extremely well. Jon busied himself by going back to her hair, and it was a few minutes later before either of them spoke again.

"I love you too, you know," Sasha said at length. "I know I don't say it a lot, but I do."

"It's okay," Jon said, and it really, really was. He knew Sasha couldn't see the wide smile that had just appeared on his face, but he liked to think she could hear it in his voice. "I know you do."

[marvelsangels]

Underworld

Summary: You wanted to live in peace, to be far away from the fight, and you've been doing just that for over 5 thousand years. That is until you hear the ruckus outside your building and see a hole through your wall.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader ( Y/N ) x Steve Rogers?

Title: Underworld

Chapter 1

a/n: I haven't written in a while due to me being dyslexic, busy with work, and not confident enough with my stories. But my mind had a fuck it moment so I'm doing it. Hope you guys enjoy :)

You weren't evil, in fact, you were the complete opposite, but after many years and many generations, the stories that are passed on change. History? You couldn't help but scoff at the thought of the false stories.

Apparently, you were a very evil sorceress that ate children for dinner. Chuckling, you paced back and forth the room trying to think of a way out of the mess that you were in.

You weren't afraid of her, of course not, you were afraid of the mass destruction she will release upon the earth once she receives a word back from her demon, that you were finding solace in a New York apartment. The bitch never got over it.

*knock knock knock*

You didn't expect any visitors, especially this late at night, but it was probably just your neighbor Anna, doing her nightly check-up on the top floor, though she's an hour late so you have your doubts.

You grabbed a knife on the kitchen counter and made your way through the door. " Who is it? "

" I- uh It's the guy from earlier, I have questions for you." You opened the door at the sound of his voice knowing he could do you no harm.

Huh, spandex man was outside your door stuttering like a schoolboy, how exciting. " Don't you think it's quite late? " You asked raising an eyebrow at him. " He looked down and muttered something under his breath that you didn't catch. " I saw something here, it was different, it was dangerous. Who are you? "

You gave him an amused look and smiled at his curiosity. " Haven't you heard? Curiosity kills the cat, even the big ones."

He was shocked to say the least, that someone would give him an attitude, especially a woman her age since most of them were drooling over him, which Steve never found amusing anyway.

He felt bad for the next words he was about to say cause he knew it would sound obnoxious. " Do you not know who I am ma'am? " He cringed at his words the moment he said it.

Oh, he may be cringing, but you were enjoying every second of it because you may not like the news and have not watched it since 83, but of course, you knew who this guy was, his face is literally plastered on the billboard in front of your apartment building.

" Of course I know who you are, Steven Rogers, you're the one and only, Captain America, but why would you assume that I didn't know who you were? Curios. "

" Well, Uhm..." He looked around trying to find the words to say but ended with saying something that wasn't very pleasurable to you. " I need you to come with me. " You stared at him in disbelief and wondered if he was serious about his statement. " Why would I do that? "

" I saw the Libro Vitae, upstairs when it's supposed to be in Italy hidden deep in the catacombs. "

Huh, captain boy seems to know more than you thought he would.

" How would you know it's not fake? "

" Because no one even knows it exists. "

" But you? "

" I work for the government and I am Captain America, am I not? "

Charming.

" Let me get my shoes and I'll be right with you, do you wanna come in Captain Rogers, you can get the book yourself if you want? " Oh, how easy it was to make this man flustered. " Please come in, I'll make you some tea " You grabbed his arm and gently pulled him in, you heard him take a deep breath before answering you with a soft 'ok'.

" So I assume you already know that I can do stuff since you saw me this afternoon with that stinky demon, " You say as you grab your kettle and ready your teabag.

" It's part of the reason why I'm here. "

You turned around to see him seated on one of the stools.

Instead of giving him the cup over the counter, you walked towards him, making him spin his chair and you stopping in-between his thighs. " What do you want you to know Captain? " You whispered, your faces were so close to each other that you could hear his breath hitch.

He couldn't find the words to answer your question, so you just moved away and handed him his cup. " I'll be back in a few. "

He was taking you to a place called the avengers compound, and when you got there you saw a very familiar face...

a/n: Yay! Here's chapter 1 :) Hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think in the comments.

Underworld Taglist: @wintershadowkat @morganayenneferburnham @animegirlgeeky @tony-chocolonely @therooftoprunner @ci-avmovies14 @wrongxwriter @purplepolicetaco @bunbunny213 @the-chamber-of-secerts @little-miss-naill @palepinkdaze @winters-moon-child @hufflepuff-in-narnia @marvelfansworld @flaboyance

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Chapter 2

[cryptiql]

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.