#I've been thinking about these words lately and marveling at the beauty of humanity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stackthedeck · 6 months

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20 questions for fic writers Thank you @babblingflowers for the tag!!

How many works do you have on ao3?

45 minus the podfic which i don't count but maybe I should

what's your total ao3 word count?

308,676

3.What fandoms do you write for?

writing now mostly marvel comics specifically fantastic four and spider-man but before that it was that weird soup of marvel where it's both the comics movies and shows blended into a beautiful mess

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Getting together for the kids, space boys, one little slip, what's mine is ours, let's see how far you've come

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to be really good about it, but in the same way I get overwhelmed by responding to online messages comments have been a lot but I still love them so much! I always respond if it's a recent fic and I swear I will reply to the 60 in my inbox soon

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending

either "put me together and take me apart" because it ends with Matt and Peter breaking up because they're still grieving their exes but it feels so much less sad because they get back together in the sequel.. Or "ignorance is bliss" because Jon (tma) forgets Martin exists

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

One little slip, Johnny and Peter get together and go to a premier as the human torch and spider-man

Do you get hate on fics?

Not on any that are currently up...

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah, it's been very gender queer lately idk what that means but smut has just become a vessel to display the beauty of queer bodies recently

Do you write crossovers?

not anymore, but my second most popular fic is one so...

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah I had a good omens fic translated into russian it was good old fashion lover boy

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but I'm trying to cyberbully one of my friends into co-writing one with me (Ash if you're seeing this, we've gotta do it)

What's your all-time favorite ship?

All time is hard it's gotta be Percabeth but like currently it's parksborn

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I will finish them it'll happen I swear to god it will, don't look at the parksborn divorce fic I promise it'll update one day

What are your writing strengths?

I think what I have up currently on ao3 has really good dialogue but in my current wips I'm really vibing with like I guess internal thoughts, they feel in character but not it's not so much information that it feels like telling instead of showing

What are your writing weaknesses?

schedules, discipline, finishing anything, my pacing is a little weird at times and I'm always worried about "he would not fucking say that"

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't because I don't know any languages other than English, I'd reach out to someone that actually spoke the language but the reader would probably just google translate it and that'd take them out of the story and the translation wouldn't be good but I guess I could do a footnote. Idk I haven't found a story that has use for it yet

First fandom you wrote for?

Why couldn't it have been the first fandom I read for? ...it was Hamilton, I'm not happy about it either

Favorite fic you've written?

either the parksborn divorce fic because of an unpublished scene or it's you, it's always been you because of the spideypool fight. I think I just love reading couples fighting where they go for the throat (metaphorically if not also physically)

guess I've gotta tag people @evilwickedme @waterme-stories @seek--rest and all the other lovely writer mutuals who I'm forgetting

#tag game

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mantrabay · 3 years

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Hope Springs Eternal Part 1.

I shivered

palpably in response to the stimulus of this auspicious winter morning as though I were a nervous acolyte on his first day of probation.

It was that benchmark event called my Birthday.

Like Christmas and Easter they have this annular ring in every sense.

Dates and their import. I was raised to have the healthiest respect for them.

A rendezvous of another kind awaited me later in the day that was seasonal in another sense.

But that just added a certain spring to my step.

Entering my eight decade on earth I dragged that motley crew of bones about me.

Like a hod carrier carting clusters of smokeless polish coal for some imperious client.

But the mind has immense powers waiting to be tapped.

A mineral rich load, a vein of resources with targeted thoughts that were the match for any prescription medicine.

Age is but a number and they can be sung in harmony with one’s universe or jarringly and at odds.

I’m a late in life poet with lines very gingerly crafted at this point in time.

My aunt Virginia who raised me when my mother died started the revolution in my thinking.

“Your mind should be a diary.

Always take note of what’s happening around you and when it happened.

Time, dates, everything.

It always comes in useful.”

She said in that nuanced tonic sol fa accent of hers.

Virginia instilled in me this most functional regard for which I am eternally grateful.

Her words about dates and time echoed continually through the recesses of mind to my ultimate benefit.

I had the required notepad and pen at hand to record anything I could sculpt into a creative ode.

As of yet

a title eluded me but maybe something lustrous, radiant romantic would be apt.

Quite a lot has been composed already much to my surprise.

Virginia’s advice and the embryonic epic planted fertile shoots in my head as I entered the kitchen.

I called it my domain.

Structured in an algebraic fashion with proximity dovetailing elegance it resembled a gallery.

The sink and shrouded tap heads my first port of call.

Stooping over archly I filled a gleaming white plastic jug kettle for that morale boosting first cup of tea.

As I sipped my tea the insights Virginia kindly bequeathed started flooding back.

Those condensed pearls of wisdom regarding time and it’s ambience.

Optimism and cheer were her other passions.

As well as paying attention.

“Focus on your environment. There is joy in abundance.” Virginia opined.

“A treasure trove awaits for those who concentrate.” She said.

“Where there is joy there’s hope.

Time and hope are intertwined.”

Never losing a chance to stress matters time-related.

Typical Virginia logic.

I’m taking it more seriously now as my respect for that statute of limitations called life expectancy approaches.

This lady’s pointers were manfully ingested as my tea stained cup wobbled in my right hand with it's rivulet of veins.

The tea leaves scattered wildly in that microcosm of a drinking vessel had a fleeting fascination for me.

But as I scanned my surroundings with the eye of a keyhole surgeon I couldn't help but notice something else.

The kaleidoscope of colour filling the french panel window in front of the kitchen sink.

Window drabness red carded with the zeal of a strict umpire dismissing an offending player.

My intuition told me to brace myself for events both surprising and anticipated .

This afternoon’s engagement is to the forefront of my mind and for good reason.

Think I’ll leave the cell phone behind.

Or did I hear it go off?

My device was of the more crowded cumbersome type with stubborn square buttons that even the more dexterous hand would find difficult to navigate.

The fingers slipped involuntarily like I sometimes did on those treacherous black ice patches.

“It’ll wait. Can’t really be that important.” I said to myself.

It was one of those phones that emitted this discordant buzz when some arrant nuisance rings at the most inopportune time which is often.

“No … face the morning and it’s canvas of brittle prospect.” Speaking with eloquent pride to myself, Hamilton Lake.

Walking outside on this my 78th birthday could be seen as an obstacle course.

I've always had a thing about posture.

The feet must be properly positioned and ready for anything unexpected.

The steps from my house could be awkward and angular with hidden crevices.

Those rugged pockmarks gouged out by the chisel of that tyrant called the elements.

The inherent beauty of garden plants, on the other hand,

purged whatever sluggishness there was in my frame.

Their spectral tint and gravity defying droop gave my eyes an optic fillip.

Green border shrubs and yellow rose petals bore a magic that defied description.

Albeit with telltale winter stains.

But the mindfulness of gait and knowing that slippage could be fatal moderated my enthusiasm about my settings.

Onto the yard and then the slope towards town with a propensity for the occasional wobble notwithstanding.

A downward denouement laced with grit and optimism.

The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered with tufts of flickering grass cavorting about in a light south east breeze.

Haywire brambles whose overlapping tentacles were embedded in every mound or patch.

Star shaped brown leaves as veiled cover for those sharp spines sticking out.

The bane of every bulging blood vessel.

An ice clad descent that can either capsize or upend even the most determined stride.

Ice that most deceptive gloss that far too easily masks it’s latent perils.

Irrespective I continued unabashed.

The heart, portent of fragility, bruising barometer of one’s twilight moment can be an ally.

A motivator of noble human impulse.

My rainbow tipped walking stick was my elder compass.

A bearing locator for crazy paving pavement slabs.

Those structures fractured by peculiarities of sudden temperature with their plummets and summits!

But focus though impaired was motivated by a stoic forbearance imbued with fire in the soul.

Virginia’s velvet toned voice enjoined on us at home to watch the clouds.

The wispy contours, greyed over forms, wooly frills and outlines drifting overhead.

She also warned of their penchant for unleashing torrents which could spoil the daily strolls of even the most ernest of ramblers.

Today the clouds weaved their way across that azure blue path called the sky.

Curiously enough the self same clouds added to their repertoire by the graceful skirting of rooftops and faraway rock formations on the outskirts of town.

“Clouds are a heavenly canvas. A floating exhibit of the firmament.

They inspire poets, works of art.” Virginia said.

They were doing just that in my case with aplomb.

The planned mysterious link up was never lost sight of amid Virginia’s majestic musings.

“Use your imagination or your imagination will use you. The borders between make belief and the real world must always be maintained.

Imaginings of every kind can be triggered by just about anything familiar.

They can assume a life of their own.”

Wonderful counsel from a wonderful woman.

Virginia, however, unlike some philosophers had a marvelous sense of humor but abhorred the canned, corny variety.

Although such humor couldn't always be avoided I was mindful of her sensitivity on the subject.

Meticulously taking out that pad again I scribbled a few more lines.

It’s beginning to fill up.

The only thing that remains is to have someone to dedicate it to.

The human eye, a person’s best camera turned to the leach like ivy carpet which clung with tenacity to the grey grained stone wall narrowly to my right.

Preserving their corporeal integrity and playing their part while going largely unobserved.

Fir trees, enclosed by pavement railings and gardens had an overwhelming stillness about them.

An unyielding rooted presence.

They too are age defiant when cultivated and getting the right supports.

These trees act as filters for the dust, smoke and fumed manifestations of the modern manufacturer.

Urban heat island effect offset and mitigated.

All these details forensically noted.

A sudden wakening ensued.

“Hi there, Hamilton. Lovely morning for a stroll.”

My inner space rightly interrupted for a different reality.

“Maybe we’ll meet later at one of your favourite spots or a coffee shop.”

Local teens, Sonia and Winfred with whom I regularly crossed paths and swopped pleasantries of a deeper heartfelt kind.

They alighted from their bicycles

“It’s your birthday today isn’t it?

You’d put people half your age and mine to shame.” The young lady Sonia said.

Winfred her boyfriend agreed.

“Such generosity I rarely encountered from my own group.” I thought to myself.

Sonia, a vibrant vivacious youth whose tactful airborne words shone as brightly as her arched angelic face.

Winfred, her boyfriend had a slightly bulging chin and matted haired that looked as if it had been constantly drenched.

His was a handsomeness harrowed out by high jinx and crack of dawn capers.

After a friendly departure this couple dashed off with a daring and delight so dirigere of the young.

As well as the young at heart.

Photograph and short story by mantrabay copyright protected.

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ty-talks-comics · 4 years

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Best of Marvel: Week of February 5th, 2020

Best of this Week: Miles Morales: Spider-Man #15 (Legacy #255) - Saladin Ahmed, Javier Garrón, David Curiel and Cory Petit

I had a really difficult time choosing between this and X-Men/Fantastic Four #1.

Both stories were great this week and I was tempted to choose the latter because up to this point, I hadn't really been enjoying this Spider-Man run very much. Of course, here we are though. There was just something about how this issue pulled everything together that made me appreciate the story that Saladin Ahmed set out to tell and how Miles is finally growing into the hero that fans always knew he was. Everything just felt so right amidst this roller coaster of an “Ultimatum” arc. Even in the face of tremendous adversity Miles overcomes.

Throughout this series, Ahmed has been sprinkling small bits of an arc to readers with Miles constantly being late for class, tired and even being placed on academic probation by his Principal, Mr. Dutcher. Of course it's easy to paint Dutcher as potentially a racist due to how much he's had it in for Miles throughout the story, almost to very ludicrous points in his attempts to kick Miles out of the school. Things seek to finally take a turn when we find out that Dutcher found the notebook that Miles had been writing in with all of his Spider-Man adventure thoughts.

Garrón makes sure to draw Dutcher with the worst, "I've got your ass now" looks I've ever seen with one hand placed in his underarm while he taunts Miles with his journal. Curiel colors things ominously with light shadows going over most of his face as he prepares to ream Miles, but suddenly Brooklyn Visions, Miles' school, is attacked by a horde of new Green Goblins. Garrón makes them look threatening as hell as they terrorize the student body and the teachers with destroyed cars and fire in the background.

Without hesitation, Miles tries to swoop in and save them, but the Goblins find him and Dutcher, rounding them up with the rest of the hostages. The leader Goblin demands that the school hand over Spider-Man while threatening the staff. Garrón and Curiel sell this by portraying the Goblin as a towering beast with one green foot planted on the head of one of the teachers, his grey toenails curling over him. They’re certainly not as intimidating as the Main Green Goblin of the Ultimate Universe, but their numbers and power do cast as at least mildly formidable foes, at least for this issue.

One of the black teachers steps up and offers to remain the only hostage if they let the kids and other teachers go. I really like this character as I think he's the one that assigned the journal project and he's been acting as something of a mentor to Miles throughout. He really cares about his students and colleagues even though he's terrified and he's the first of many to inspire courage in this issue.

Just as the Goblin is about to absolutely RIP the teacher's head off, Dutcher steps up and says that his colleague doesn't know where Spider-Man is and says that he does. Everyone remembers that moment in the first Sam Raimi Spider-Man movie where J. Jonah Jameson risks his life for Peter so that he can escape - well, after giving a telling look to Miles, Dutcher claims that he himself Spider-Man before getting smacked into a wall. This is an amazing turning point for the character as we’ve only seen him be annoying and antagonistic to Miles the entire time that we’ve known him. With one small act of courage, he kinda reverses it all when he could have just given into his worse thoughts.

Garrón and Curiel frame this scene excellently with one shot of Miles looking at Dutcher, with a light shining on his face, almost wondering what the right decision is. He may not like Miles too much, but he couldn't forgive himself if he gave the boy up. We get another shot over Dutcher's shoulder, shadows covering the other side of his face and Miles looking at him, afraid that he could have his identity exposed and die right there. With no dialogue these two panels say more than any word balloons could.

Ganke, Miles' best friend, decides to launch another distraction for Miles to suit up and our hero swings in with an amazing splash page by Garrón and Curiel. The students cheer, the Goblins grit their teeth in anger and Miles takes a dynamic pose as his webs make an excellent line for the our eyes to follow from Miles arms, his heroic symbol and his gymnast legs getting ready to kick the crap out of evil. The black and red suit stands out amongst the mostly greens and browns of the page, putting the focus mainly on him.

For the most part, the rest of the issue is Garrón and Curiel showcasing Spider-Man's Goblin Slaying skill while they try to take him down. He crashes through the wall of the school and Garrón emphasizes the weight and speed of the fight with debris and skid marks as Miles knocks two of the Goblins out, making them revert to human form. There's also a really good shot of the leader Goblin chucking dumbbells and gymnast posts at Spider-Man.

Curiel does an amazing job of coloring the action as things move from the brown of the basketball court, to the blues of the indoor pool in which Garrón draws an amazing few panels of them fighting in the water. As per Curiel's coloring style the water is fluid and beautiful and then gets excellent lighting as Spider-Man Venom Blasts the Goblin in the middle of it all.

Cory Petit deserves heaps of credit for giving this entire book life with his incredible lettering and even more so this fight sequence. His transparent CRASHes and ZZZZZTs sell both the intensity of Miles and the Goblin going through walls and the power of Spider-Man’s Venom Blasts respectively. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the SPLASH as the Goblin falls into the pool or the transparent SLOSH that curves down the villain’s arm as he tries to punch at Miles in the water.

The fight reaches its conclusion after Miles repeatedly kicks the Goblin in the face and finishes with an uppercut (Shoryuken!) over a red, pop-art background that could only have been made better with a POW sound effect. The Goblin, knowing he’s been defeated, jumps away and leaves Spider-Man until their next confrontation. Later on Miles and Mr. Dutcher resume their conversation from earlier and it is a far more tense situation, especially after all of the damage that occured to the school.

Surrounded by Curiel’s dim oranges from the fires raging in the background, Miles tries to explain all the things that he says in his Journal, but Mr. Dutcher calmly hands his student his journal back. Dutcher tells Miles that he “should report students engaging in dangerous activities to the administration,” but all that he read was a “fictional story.” For a moment, Dutcher gives Miles a look like he sees the fear on the young man’s face, but he rationalizes that if Miles hadn’t done what he did, there’s no telling if any of them would be alive.

Mr. Dutcher proves himself to be a trustworthy person because of the bravery that Miles showed him. Miles has saved Brooklyn, if not the whole of the world, many a time and he’s actually one of the more well liked Spider-People. Miles serves as an inspiration to the rest of Brooklyn Visions and the borough as a whole, but there’s also the downside of his presence. Somehow the Goblins were able to find out what school Spider-Man attended and that puts everyone in grave danger, so the question is… what will Miles do now? He did save the day and got taken off of academic probation, but the school is mostly in ruin. Much like Peter’s best victories, this one is pyrrhic.

Saladin Ahmed really knocked it out of the park with this issue. He does a really good job at scripting Miles and his supporting cast, making each of them seem courageous and sympathetic. Javier Garron and David Curiel’s art and colors have been some of the best parts of this run and they continue to stun with amazing visuals, making sure readers get really invested in the art and the story it tells along with the script.

I do also wonder if this story will play into the upcoming “Outlawed” event which sees teenaged superheroes getting banned from active operation after something terrible happens to Spider-Man friend, Kamala Khan aka. Ms. Marvel. The destruction of Brooklyn Visions could act as more fuel to the fire following this issue and it would be interesting to see how this could possibly contribute to that event. Maybe we’ll even see Miles unmask to the world? (Nah, it’s probably gonna be her, but who knows?) But I am excited at the very least for the rest of Ahmed’s run if the issues continue being this awesome.

#miles morales #green goblins #spider man #saladin ahmed #javier garrón #david curiel #cory petit #marvel comics #comics #comic review #black superheroes

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cammys-imagines24 · 6 years

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• U n c o v e r Y o u •

Title: Uncover You.

Connor x Reader.

Warning's: None.

Word Count: 2K+

Synopsis: You had always wondered what Connor looked like without his skin, and one night you finally gain up the courage to ask him about it. (Fluff, Insecure Connor)

••••••°••••••

You had always wondered what he looked like, I mean really looked like. Past the layer of liquid skin which bared such an uncanny likeness to that of a real human that you sometimes even forgot that it was indeed synthetic.

But, synthetic it was. It wasn't real. The outer layer was just a veil to conceal what was truly underneath; a machine.

Inside there were biocomponent's, circuits, Thirium, wires, processors, units, and metal. Inside, laid an Android. And, you had always been curious to see Connor for who he really was, not the appearance he cloaked himself in.

Even though you had been with the Negotiator for a long time now you had never seen him for who he truly was, and you wanted to. To you it felt like he was always evading showing himself, and you understood why.

Connor had always been one of the most advanced Prototypes to ever stem from CyberLife, and he was created to look the way he did. As a handsome, charming man. And, it was in his basic Programming to remain as human like as possible in order to build up trust in others, and formulate a harmonious environment.

He was built to look the part of a welcoming, benevolent, and affable male who could be anything he needed to be at any precise moment. From domineering and aggressive to friendly and trustworthy when the situation demanded it.

Like a chameleon shifting it's colors to suit it's habitat Connor was designed to be adaptable at any given moment. That was his speciality, but after he became a Deviant you were the first person who got to see him. Really see him for who he truly was, and it was a beautiful sight.

Watching a once indifferent, ever processing, never real Android become something more, and form a personality for himself was so nice to look at. Like a baby experiencing everything for the first time; that's how Connor acted for a while until he eventually grew into the being you fell in love with.

Watching him blossom, his opinions flourish, and his own individuality sprout up like flowers in Springtime was something spectacular, and you marveled in every new day that he expanded more, and more of his identity.

An identity he could actually claim for himself, and not just a built in module in his System.

Connor came to be a sympathetic man with a true heart of gold, and unyielding morals. Slightly awkward, socially inept, even humorous when it came to sassing Hank... He was sensitive, blunt, emotional, afraid of death, and undoubtedly loyal.

And, you loved him dearly... But, you still were curious as to what he truly looked like.

Though you had obviously seen what Androids looked like beneath their layer of synthetic skin; everyone nowadays had, you still wanted to see him.

You wanted to see the man you loved without him being shrouded in a facade that was manufactered to mimic humans. Because that's what it was; a facade. At least to you.

Androids were made to be a perfect carbon copy of humans as that was what was deemed most "appealing" to the public.

People thought that the porcelain white plastic bodies were too disturbing in an everyday scenario, and you hated that. That Androids couldn't just be themselves, how they were built, because it was too appalling apparently.

And, more than anything you didn't want Connor to feel like he had to cover up around you. More than anything you wanted him to be himself, and to see him for who he truly was.

So, that night you waited around in your shared apartment for him to come home. Which usually took a while since Detective work ran late, and most times Connor would wind up shuffling on inside once you were already fast asleep.

But, tonight was different. Tonight you were determined to uncover him.

So, as the evenings sky drifted in, the pale moonshine flooding into the windows of your living room, you stayed up seated on the couch.

Your body coccooned in a fleece blanket, a box of Chinese take-out near you; the bamboo chopsticks stuck into the remains of your Lo Mein.

You were flipping through the channels of your TV, the Detroit news sprawled out across the screen, and in the blue effulgence you cracked a smile, seeing some footage of a crime scene that Connor and Hank had been called out to investigate earlier.

The News Anchor was talking about the gruesome crime involving Red Ice, but you didn't concern yourself with her words. Instead you focused on the footage from the scene, the sight of Connor making your heartbeat flip even though it was just a previously aired recording.

You slunked down more into the cushions of your couch, and continued to impatiently wait around for your boyfriends arrival; Detroit's skyline prevalent in your line of sight as you stared longingly outside, silently wishing for him to be home soon.

As the hours of nightfall drew thin, the moon continuing to rise, your exhaustion was beginning to show itself as your head bobbed, and as your eyes began to slink shut on their own.

But, soon enough before your sleepiness could win out, you heard the door clicking open; the security code having been typed in.

There in the shadows of the entry was Connor, his Android jacket casting a blueish glow all around him.

As he himself never tired it was sometimes hard to believe, by human standards anyway, that he had just came from a gruelling 12 hour shift at the Station. He never looked the part of someone who had the unfortuante job of laboriously solving the incessant crimes that went on in the city of Detroit.

He looked the same as always, ever clean and composed. Not a single thread out of place in his uniform, his tie perfectly straight. The only quirk being the little tuft of brunette hair that fell over his forehead. An individual feature that you happened to enjoy.

With ease the Negotiator made his way over to you, his own face now brightly-lit from the TV screen.

"You shouldn't stay awake for me." He spoke, his smooth voice laced with concern. Your well-being his top priority.

"I know, but I wanted to." You answered, repositioning yourself on the couch in order to swipe the last egg roll.

"You shouldn't eat that." You heard Connor lecture as he took a seat beside you, and you could plainly see his LED blinking. He was calculating the amount of calories, cholesterol, and saturated fats that were inside of it. All the facts he had at his constant disposal sometimes like rain on your parade.

"Please, no details," You halted, raising up your hand in protest. "If you could eat you would understand why people take risks in order to eat truly delicious food."

Connor did as you wished, and fell silent. He meant well, but he knew that he didn't have the right to tell you how to live. He merely wanted you to be healthy, and happy.

So, he just took to settling back into the cozy cushions of the couch while you curled up beside him. Your body snuggling against his as you munched on your last egg roll.

After a lull of calm where you just watched TV like usual, and he made a report to CyberLife it then came time to go to bed. (Well, for you to go to bed anyway)

So, while in the bathroom brushing your teeth you thought about your desire yet again. The distant thought nagging at your brain, and had been for the past few hours.

You were gonna do it, you were going to ask him.

Stepping out into the bedroom you saw Connor waiting for you, his coffee hued eyes so sincere, and you worried that what you were about to ask would make him upset.

But, curiosity killed the cat, they say.

"Connor?"

"Yes?"

"Is it alright if I ask you something personal?"

"Sure, if you'd like." He replied, unaware of the bomb you felt you were about to drop.

"Is it alright if I... See you without your skin?"

To be honest your query had surprised the Android. As that part of him was something he wanted to keep hidden from you.

Connor never wanted you to see him as a machine, as a model that could be mass produced. Forever he could be rebooted into another form, and another, and another... There had been so many Connor's before he met you, and that is why ever since you stepped into his life he had grown to actually be afraid of dying.

Never again did he want to die and come back, never again did he want to be rebooted into another Connor model because to him, it was so different now...

He wanted to keep the form that he first met you in, the one you had touched, and kissed... The body he felt belonged to you, and that is why he wanted to seem as human as possible.

If he revealed himself to you as you wanted would you then start seeing him as simply RK800, and no longer your boyfriend?

Would his body then no longer be like a human males, and instead be like a mannequin to you?

You could see the hesitancy blaze across Connor's expression as his brows knit together. He looked so doubtful, and in a way insecure? You hadn't seen that side of him before, but you knew immediately that it was like looking at a sad puppy.

"I know it's alot to ask, and I won't force you to if you're too uncomfortable to do it," You began to reassure. "It's just that you've seen me when i've been at my most vulnerable. Without makeup, severely sick, having a bad day..."

"I don't want you to think of me as a machine." Connor disclosed, looking so unsure, and you merely smiled.

"I could never think of you as a machine, Connor. To me you'll always be the man I fell in love with." You assured, your words honeyed, dripping with sincerity.

With that Connor's expression softened as you strolled over.

You took his black tie in your hands, and carefully loosened it. Letting the strand of silky fabric cascade to the floor before you continued.

You unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, your eyes interlocked with his all the while, and he let you slip off his Android jacket.

Once fully unclothed Connor brought his fingers up to his LED, and gently tapped the blinking yellow indicator, allowing for his liquid skin to be stripped away.

His humanness peeled off slowly, revealing the pristine white underneath, and you watched as even his synthetic brown hair vanished. The one remaining thing his deep mocha hued eyes, the eyes you fell in love with.

You weren't frightened in the least, instead in awe. He looked beautiful, and his eyes retained the same liveliness to them.

He was now bathed in pure white, the color of snow. His form basic, and plastic. Completely bare to you.

His face was outlined by a few sections of gray, and you could see his Serial Number printed above his brow bone.

Gently with the tips of your fingers you traced over the number, his number "313 248 317- 51" and then you kissed the spot where his Model was stamped.

Your lips pressing sweetly against the "RK800"

You could feel his Thirium pump beating rapidly, and it made your mouth tug upwards into a grin. To you, it was his heartbeat, and you could tell that he was nervous.

"You know being vulnerable is one of the most human things you can feel, Connor." You told him, noticing that he was fixated on you. Analyzing the intimacy that was occuring between you two, and how you were being so affectionate with him.

Connor had probably never showed any other human his entire Android form before, and you were grateful to be the first.

"Aren't you scared?" You heard Connor utter, his LED blinking a warning shade of red for a split second, and you knew why.

He was feeling afraid, the fear of you seeing him differently washing over him, invading his Processors.

"Of course not." You spoke up, your hands timidly roaming over his smooth plastic chest, your gaze locking with his once more.

In the pallid gleam of moonlight you continued to touch him, your fingers ghosting over each piece of his Android frame.

"You are alive, Connor, and this form of yours won't ever change that." You consoled, and you saw the outline of his white lips etch into a smile before he let himself touch you back.

His porcelain hand caressing your cheek, his other finding it's way to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

"Thank you for letting me see you." You said before you were pulled into a tender, passionate kiss.

His outer human skin reappearing, along with his locks of brown hair which you were quick to run your fingers through again.

To Connor that was what he loved most about you.

Your acceptance...

That even in his Android form, all plastic and bare, you saw him as himself. Nothing more, nothing less.

To you he wasn't the Negotiator, the Android sent by CyberLife, a machine designed to accomplish a mission...

In your eyes nothing could deteriorate him from being anything other than the man you loved... A living being that loved you back, more than you could even know.

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buttercream-imagines · 7 years

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I saw you giving advice and thought I'd ask you, I'm really sorry if this seems weird. Lately, I just feel pathetic, and just really sad. I have no idea why. I've always struggled with the way I feel about my thighs (they're bigger than usual). And i just feel really crappy. I'm sorry for dumping this on you. The only thing that's been keeping me smiling is my idol, Robert Downey Jr. (Iron man) so any advice on what to do?. PS love your writing ❤️

No need to apologize my dear! I’m happy to be here for all of you. And thank you! I’m glad you like what I write ❤️

This is kind of hard to give advice on because I’m on the same boat. For my whole life I’ve struggled with my weight. I’ve been trying (and failing) to go on diets for as long as I can remember and I’m always left feeling even more miserable in the end. So it’s hard for me to give you solid advice without feeling like a hypocrite. Nevertheless, I’ll do my best (and hopefully take some of this to my own heart as well).

Wear clothes you like. If you like dressing up, do it for no reason. If you like sweatpants, wear them whenever you can. Make yourself feel good. On days when I wake up and think “Today is going to be shitty,” I counteract that feeling by putting on a bomb ass outfit and doing my make up and hair. It really puts a positive spin on your life. When you feel like you look good on the outside, you’ll feel good on the inside.

You have to fake it til you make it. Even if you don’t really feel confident, hold your head high and play pretend. Eventually, with time, you won’t need to fake it anymore. I know that sounds far-fetched but believe me. It’s like, you get into this pattern of loving yourself and it starts to feel natural.

I’m sitting in bed right now trying to think of what to say to you to make you feel better and I’m coming up short. It’s so hard to tell someone to love their body and themselves when you struggle to do so yourself. The truth is, everyone has issues with their body. Literally everyone. I have a friend who is barely 100 pounds, is perfectly healthy, but hates her body because she is too skinny. We think we want this body or that body but once you have it, you’re only going to find something new to hate. It’s how we’re programmed. We watch people on TV and online and we’re always striving to look how they look but I don’t think we’ll actually be happy once we’re there. We’re given one life and one body and it’s our job to love it no matter what. Sure we can work to lose a couple pounds, but we can never forget to continue loving ourselves throughout the whole process.

I said earlier that I’ve always struggled with my weight and self-worth. The one time I remember truly being content with how I looked was in my senior year of high school when I had a boyfriend. Looking back I realize how unhealthy that is. I only felt beautiful because he made me feel that way. No one should need another person to make themselves feel beautiful. We need to find the beauty within ourselves, not in a picture online or in the words coming out of someone else’s mouth.

Learning to love your body is not going to be an easy process. You’re going to cry when the dress you bought five months before an event doesn’t fit when the day comes around and you’re going to stare at your reflection in the mirror and cry in frustration. It will happen. But some day, you’re going to buy a kick ass pair of booty shorts that show off those thighs of yours and you’re going to say, “I love my body.” When I wore my first crop top in public, I was so nervous. Your girl is 215 pounds with a belly to show for it. The thing was, I really liked the top. I felt good in it. I knew my belly was showing but I was comfortable and I felt good. I looked my insecurity in the mirror and said, “You’re alright.” Now I wear bikinis and crop tops and I flaunt the body God gave me. And yes, I still look in the mirror and cry. I still google diets with plans to pursue them only to abandon them the next day. I will never 100% love my body, but that’s because I’m human.

Life is hard and sadness is inevitable. Don’t be afraid to talk to people about how you’re feeling, even if it is just to vent. It feels good to get your emotions off your chest. If you’re feeling particularly down one day, don’t lock yourself in your room with your blinds shut and your lights off. Go outside. Climb a tree and see the world in a new way. Go to a coffee shop and people watch. Order a new drink from the cute barista and give him/her a bright smile. Compliment a stranger. Wave at the person in the car next to you. Sit in your favorite spot in the house with a good book or your favorite Iron Man movie (might I suggest Civil War? I know it’s Captain America technically but damn if that isn’t my favorite Marvel movie). Write how you’re feeling. Keep a journal to look back on to remember how you once felt. On days when you feel good the journal can sit on a shelf as a reminder that things always get better. Because they do always get better.

I don’t know if this helps. Like I said, this is so hard. I’m getting a little choked up writing this because I relate so hard to what you’re saying. But someday, someone will love your thick thighs as much as someone will love my pudgy belly. And someday that someone will be you, and that’s what matters most.

I’ll paraphrase from something I once read to end this post:

Maybe you have thick thighs or wide ribcages. It’s easy to hate these non-zero size body parts. Don’t. With your legs you can run a marathon if you want to, and your ribcage is nothing but a carrying case for strong lungs. You can scream and you can sing and you can lift up the world, if you want. The best thing you can do with your body is use it to mobilize your beautiful soul.

#let's chat #ask me anything #answered asks #auntie dani's advice corner

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mantrabay · 3 years

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Hope Springs Eternal Part One