#I am working a full day tomorrow and I need to go to the docs before work to get my bloodwork results....

[damiemontclair]

I just did the math. I currently have an average of 1.8 (B+? A-? ~85%?). Getting a 4 (D/60%) on my thesis wouldn't have dragged my overall average below a 2.4 (B-? 80%?). I am. Fucking disgusted. 10 points. That is all I was missing for a 4. I could've easily gotten those points with just a little more guidance from my advisor. Whom I saw... 2 times? I would've hated losing my 1.something average, my pride would've taken a hit, but fucking hell. I would be fucking done with this shit. Now I need to do it all over again...

[mercurygray]

i would like to request miss cordelia + 13 from the nosebleedclub list if you don't mind!!

This was a really good one, Kind Anonymous Friend! I had this idea for Bucky and Cord and decided I think it's just going to stand on its own for now.

Fair warning: It's a little spicy.

13. the state of your heart.

She could see the flares well enough from the tower as they came in, wings shot to pieces, engines smoking, red flare after red flare, wounded aboard, wounded aboard, wounded aboard.

Captain Brennan's girls would have their work cut out for them today.

It was easy enough to kick around outside the Interrogation hut, waiting outside for news but really only waiting for Bucky. Brennan had said once that she could come, if she liked, but Interrogation seemed like a door she could not - should not - cross behind. That room was where the day dwelt, and where it was supposed to stay. One by one they all emerged, grim angels still in need of comfort, and behind them all came Bucky, somehow taller and grimmer than them all, shoulders set against it like he was supposed to carry the whole war by himself.

Cord took a deep breath, tried to smile. Come on, then, Atlas - carry me instead.

There was a slash on his cheek from something that might have been shrapnel, and ragged edges on his face from where his mask had cut into his face. Doc Stover would probably want him in the infirmary, but he wouldn't go - not until he'd finished other business first.

"C'mere," he said, making a grab for her hand, one arm full of his kit bag and the other full of her, unafraid of anything.

The packing sheds were deserted at this time of day, the crews already done with the equipment from today's run, tomorrow's crew not due to start for hours yet. Plenty of walls that would hide them now and tell no tales after.

No sooner had the door shut then he had dropped his bag and pressed her up against the wall, lips hard and insistent on her own, his sheepskin seeming to enfold the both of them inside it, his hips grinding up against her own. His body was doing the speaking his tongue no longer had words for, and she left her own words aside, too, to let his hands fill with her hips, the curve of her pants, the swell, underneath her own jacket, of breast and brassiere. She could feel him getting hard against his flight suit, and he stepped to the side, his feet bracketing her own, so that he could rub himself against her, mumbling pleasure into her mouth until he could take no more, and fell back a little, panting, and looked down at her with expectant, sad eyes and a smile that didn't quite reach. She tried to smile back and brushed a curl off his face. She always wanted to ask how it had been, but it was useless - he was only like this when it was worse than he wanted to say. If he wanted to lose himself in something, she would let it be her. At least then she would know where he was.

She kissed his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and laid his hand back on her left breast, letting him squeeze for a moment, and the two of them stood together, breathing, returning. You are alive, and I am alive, and we are alive here now together.

Finally he spoke, quieter now, his heart less fierce. "Hey, gorgeous."

She smiled. "Hello, handsome." She traced the wound on his face. "You should go see the doc."

He tried to shrug it off, hands slipping down to her waist, thumbs stroking at her hips. "Wanted to take my other medicine first," he murmured. "Look at the state of us," he said, half-guilty and bashful, like he didn't know what he'd done, or how he'd done it. Her shirt was wrinkled and her tie was all wrong, and his flight suit was a damn mess. "You ought to stop me."

Stop you why? The question pulsed in her throat like a live coal. How can I care about that when there's the state of your heart?

-

if you like Cord here, you can read more of her here on tumblr in her tag.

[quinloki]

Roronoa Zoro - Sweet

Requestor: @sunshinegat0r Reader Vibes Requested: AFAB she/her CW: Hospital, injuries, references to a car accident, loads of guilt

Notes: Ahhh... I'm realizing I wrote this in the Wrong AU - Gat0r I'm so sorry, I hope this is okay. I wrote this in the Mafia City AU, and not the Grandline Metro AU >.< Mega Oops on my part.

Please note in this AU the Reader is the adopted daughter of Edward Newgate (who is Law's Father's Father, making them Aunt and Nephew.) This AU was used in Family Ties and Family Practice (the reader is not adopted in that one, but it's the same world and Reader)

This is heckin' embarrassing I can't believe I confused my own AUs 😅😵‍💫

“Whaddya mean-!” Zoro couldn’t believe his ears, he pushed back on Law reflexively before he managed to calm down.

“… She… she doesn’t remember me?” The question is in disbelief, and Law’s never heard the rough-edged fighter sound so broken before, or look it.

“It’s barely been a full day since the wreck, Zoro-ya.” He answers, moving to physically put his face in front of Zoro’s and get his attention. “It’s a miracle she was awake in the first place.”

Understanding crosses his features and he steps back from the doctor and the door to your room. He’s quiet for a moment, taking in the sounds of the hospital, and the steady beep from your room.

“Is it… safe for me to see her right now?”

“Safe, how?”

“Will she… will it hurt her to see me?” He questions, brows furrowing. “I don’t want to go in there for myself if it’ll… I don’t know, upset her, to see me.”

“… She’s sleeping for now. If you don’t stay too long you can see her.” Law answers. “I can text you when she’s up tomorrow, I still have to break the news to her brothers.”

Zoro nods, stepping around Law and moving into your room. You looked peaceful, despite the bandages and wires hooked up to you. It was almost impossible to believe you were actually awake.

It was hard to believe you were alive.

You’d picked up extra shifts to help him with the busy season and the two of you were running solo for the last two weeks. Hell, all six drivers Zoro had were running solo just trying to keep up with the need for the holidays.

It was a hit and run, and he hadn’t been there.

He could have been, though. If he had been willing to have everyone work a little longer, he could’ve paired people up the way he preferred. It wasn’t the law to have two people in the truck, but it was the usual process for him - for his business.

And the one time he decides different, this is the cost.

Sitting by your bed, Zoro puts his head in his hands, trying desperately to keep his spiraling emotions in check. This can’t be about his guilt, not so soon, not until he knows. If you don’t recover properly, if your memory doesn’t return, then he’ll cut himself out of your life of his own will. He won’t let you risk yourself again, not because of him.

The burden of this will be his to bear alone.

He can take it.

He can’t trade places with you, so ensuring he’s never the reason you hurt is a small price.

You’ve got dozens of brothers, adopted darling of the Newgate family. No one in this city would purposefully hurt you, and hells, that might be the reason the driver fled the scene in the first place.

Not that such an act would save them. You made friends with Doflamingo accidentally, and there’s no way someone so well-connected would let the culprit get away.

If only Newgate and Doflamingo would turn their ire on him. Even if you recover fully what he did was-

“You’re ‘pose’ta read to someone in a coma,” you mutter, lips and body heavy from the aches and exhaustion. Zoro looks up, wide-eyed and agog to the point of it being comical. “Or confess about how much you love ‘em,” you add, giving him a weak smile.

“Wha-.” He stares. “Law- The doc said you’d be asleep for a while.”

“Docs worry too much,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “You okay?”

“Am - Am I okay?” He nearly barks. “Are you kidding me right now?”

You shake your head. “You look like hell, Marimo.”

“Have you seen- wait,” Zoro freezes, on his feet, hands on the railing on the side of your hospital bed. “Do you… remember me?”

“I’ve known you most of my life, how could I forget you?” You grunt, the words nearly a grumble.

“What… what do you remember?” He questions, sitting back down. You can see the blood already starting to drain out of his face.

“What do you mean, what do I remember?”

“You couldn’t remember your name earlier.” A gruff voice says from the doorway, as Law walks in. He seems to be glaring at Zoro, but Law’s default face was kind of glare-y. He covers the distance from door to bedside quickly and is already shining a very annoying light in your eyes.

“I don’t remember being up before now,” you growl, squinting against the light. “I should’ve stayed asleep if you were just going to blind me.”

Law moves the light away an frowns. “What’s your name?”

“… (Y/N), Newgate (Y/N) since Pops adopted me, making me your aunt.” You answer, flipping him off even though the action made your arm ache.

Law continued to ask you a series of questions, and you knew most of them were because he had to. You must’ve really worried him the first time you supposedly came around, even though you couldn’t remember it, cause he laid out all twenty questions.

Zoro went through an impressive number of emotions, trying desperately to maintain his composure and not interrupt Law. It was cute on the one hand, but if he had been afraid you’d forgotten him, well, that would explain his earlier behavior.

Law leaves the two of you once he’s satisfied, and even offers to have a cot brought in so Zoro can stay the night.

Zoro’s head is back in his hands, and you give him a few moments.

“If I hadn’t,” he starts, voice shaky. “We should’ve…” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t had put one driver to one truck. This is my-.”

“It’s the driver’s fault.” You interject. “I had,” you wince a little trying to sit up and Zoro moves to help you, adjusting the bed as you talk. “My high-vis vest on and everything. They cut down the alley so fast, there was no helping it.”

You chuckle a little, pained and short. “If I hadn’t jumped,” you shake your head. “No, never mind. I’m here… so… stay with me.” You reach out and he takes your hand without hesitation. “I’m lost without you, Zoro, so please… please don’t take a guilt trip and leave me alone.”

Hanging his head he snorts, shaking his head enough his earrings chime. “That was terrible.”

You smile. “It was perfect.” You tighten your grip on his hand. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” He says, kissing your fingers gently.

“Every other delivery company runs one driver to one truck.” You continue to push. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“… I did one thing wrong.” He insists. “I should’ve hired on more help. I shouldn’t have compromised how I run my business.”

You sigh. “I suppose I can accept that.”

The two of you stayed that way quietly for a few long minutes, the steady beep of your heart monitor and the quiet din of activity in the hall the only sounds for a little bit.

“Zoro?” You prompt and he looks at you after kissing the top of your hand.

“Yeah?”

“If… If I ever do forget, don’t… don’t let me, okay?”

“Huh?”

“No matter the circumstances, promise you’ll help me remember.” You assert. “Everything. All of it, every time… please.”

“Every time.” He promises, kissing your hand again.

[docholligay]

Doc’s Quarterly Patreon Book Thing: Mystery/Crime

Okay, so, I’ve been trying to think about how I want to do this, which is basically letting my patreons force me to read a book. I have picked three genres I would say I do not read a lot of, but I know y'all do, and then the fourth quarter will be either open season, nonfiction, or as a children’s book for children, I haven’t decided.

SO. Nominations will be opened on the Patreon Apr 4th. RULES AND THINGS TO KNOW/HOW THIS WILL WORK:

It will be pitchless. You don’t need to pitch me! Just Title, Author.

One nomination per person. Your first nom will be considered your nomination, all others will be ignored.

Must be available in print

For this quarter, the genre must be MYSTERY OR CRIME (Nonfiction permitted). Below, I point out some fantasy novels I have enjoyed and negative-enjoyed, which’ll give you both an idea of what i like and what I might consider mystery/crime (A tough line). Just good faith effort.

Must think I would like it. You don’t have to think it’ll slay me and change my life, but this isn’t ‘let’s clown on Doc’. I am doing this in good faith and I assume you will nominate in good faith.

I will RANDOMLY DRAW FIVE of the novels. These five will then be PUT TO A VOTE on patreon. I will not read the comments so if you want to pitch, the comments on that poll will be a good place to do it.

Whatever wins the vote, I’ll read.

Okay, then, MYSTERY/CRIME BOOKS I REMEMBER TRULY ENJOYING OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD, AS AN ADULT. (as the sections go on, this is getting harder for me, so be patient. I'm not going to be too crazy about what is or isn't a mystery/crime novel, as long as we're all trying)

The Witch Elm by Tana French

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

I'll Be Gone In the Dark by Michelle McNamara (nf)

Provenance by Aly Sujo and Laney Salisbury (nf)

Catch Me if You Can by Frank Abagnale (technically nf but uh....fiction)

The Maltese Falcon by Hammett

The Yiddish Policeman's Union by Michael Chabon

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote

MURDER/CRIME BOOKS I REMEMBER DISTINCTLY NOT-ENJOYING OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD

Anything else by James Patterson besides Kiss the Girls (which I would say is in that middle band)

Pretty much any true crime about serial killers

Anything by Janet Evonavich

The Butterfly garden by Dot Hutchinson

Anything by Sue Grafton

The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware (full disclosure, I bought this under the presumption it was a paranormal book and my disappointment was immeasurable and my day was ruined)

(Yes I have read Holmes. It was fine.)

See?? Despite being an insufferable hater, I do like things! This list of course doesn’t include anything where I was like, “That was perfectly fine!” It’s made to show the highs and lows.

Does this make sense? I’ll put the nomination post on Patreon tomorrow!

Today is the day where you can ask any questions of me pre-nomination

[choco-bloop]

HC characters as random quotes from my friends.

Xisuma: So, in trying to get you to pick up a hobby, I was asked to prod at something that interests you.

Mumbo: Pranking everyone

Grian: I SWEAR I AM MORE INTERESTING AND DYNAMIC THAN THAT-

Xisuma: Please elaborate. 

Mumbo: NAME ONE OTHER INTEREST

Etho: *raised eyebrow emojis* 

Etho: ^ 

-

*Talking about a poodle who’s head fur was styled in pigtails*

Grian: I’VE SEEN STONES ROCK PIGTAILS BETTER THAN HIM

-

Gem: Do you guys want to have a barbecue?

Cleo: Do we look like we can bbq without burning the place down?

-

Beef: That was homework?

Beef: was that not optional?

Cleo: MY ARSE IS OPTIONAL

-

*Picture of Impulse’s last listened to song, that being Hermitgang*

Tango: Help, Impulse I see you streaming this every 2-3 business days 

-

Joe: Believe in yourself and that you are prepared 

Joe: Because confidence is the key to bullshitting your way through anything

-

Scar: *forwarded* Hello guys, can y’all help my friend do a survey for her project? I really appreciate it if you can help to fill it in. Thanks! [Link to survey]

Cleo: Ok

Stress: Oki

*A bit later* Cleo: A YOU FCKING ASSHOLE I HATE YOU

Cleo: I AM TRYING TO TEXT PEOPLE AND NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP IS PLAYING ON MY COM

Cleo: YOU BIG ASS MF I HATE YOU WITH EVERY FIBRE OF MY BODY

Cleo: I WAS VERY READY TO HELP SOMEONE IN NEED 

Pearl: Yes I got tricked too but on April fool’s day and I was wondering when my com had a YouTube tab while back reading other chats cuz I just opened any links in my unread chats and then go to them after backreading and was so confused until I realised the survey form wasn’t there.

-

Tango: You know, not all short people are Bdubs and Grian right?

Bdubs: SHUT UP.

Bdubs: I AM IN YOUR WALLS

-

Stress: *picture of food she baked* 

Pearl: OMG I WANT IT 

Stress: Drop by <3 

Pearl: IM IN UR WALLS FEEDME

-

Bdubs: *picture of Doc*

Etho: omg Bdubs why does it look like he’s towering over you is this your perspective when you see us? 

Bdubs: Etho. I am in your walls.

-

Gem: So I’m walking out of my prismarine farm and suddenly I’m like “Oh shit, where’s my hair tie?” Because I realised that my hair was no longer tied

Gem: And then I look to my pickaxe only to see my hair tie right around it.

-

Pearl: Question. If you are standing somewhere and you need to wear socks, what would you do in the situation? Assuming there are no chairs to sit on

Stress: Balance on one foot, fail miserably and fall over

Cleo: Sit on the floor and wear it

False: Balance on one foot and wear it

Pearl: Ah- 

Pearl: I decided to try just shoving my foot into the sock without any supports. But that didn’t work because my hands were full so I leaned against the wall and put on my sock from there.

Pearl: I managed to do one because right afterwards, Gem appears and just s t a r e s before laughing at me because of how STUPID I looked.

-

Impulse: *sends video*

Scar: idk why I can’t hear anything even thought my volume is on

Impulse: It’s ok, I’ll show you tomorrow 

Mumbo: Is your tab muted?

Scar: …

Scar: Haha 

Scar: oops anyway-

Mumbo: Amateur mistake.

Mumbo: I thought you were more chronically online than this

[vacantgodling]

🥸🧥 hello i am a humble stranger here for the secret wip knowledge... 📓

welcome to secret wip corner mysterious stranger 😎

so i literally have a whole doc of my rogue yeehan ideas when i’m not thinking about cage OR when i’m pretending that my custody battle au that i need to update doesn’t exist. so i will let loose one of my ideas from the aether: one of my i have a kink about cassidy’s voice fic idea.

hear me out like

cassidy’s voice is hot as shit and i’m a weak sad sad man and i feel like hanzo is the same and you can pry this from my cold dead hands.

i don’t have a name for it yet but it’s a “sales call center au” (ive worked at both a call center and have done my fair share of phone sales so more of this au hinges on my experience from phone sales lol) and basically cole gets hired by some company (overwatch ig) to sell services over the phone. his easy humor, smooth voice, and non pressuring vibes have led to numerous sales so someone (idk who yet) asks him to pursue the toughest nut to crack: hanzo’s company—shimada whatever. no one has been ever able to get past the gatekeeping front desk staff let alone talk to the ceo. so cole does some digging and manages to get the ceo’s (hanzo’s) personal number. he leaves a few messages which hanzo ignores, but cole isn’t one to leave this shit hanging. finally one day hanzo picks up and is all Will you Quit Calling. and cole is like okay one growl at me more daddy what—but he’s like sugar gimme a second of your time but hanzo hangs up on him.

now at the company i worked for (and any phone sales company) getting hung up on didn’t mean don’t pursue; in fact they said hey keep trying until you get a good convo and a formal no then push them out for a few months and come back (basically pester them to death you know businesses gotta business LMAO). the only exception is obviously dnc lists and whatnot. so cole keeps calling. and more and more he and hanzo start to actually talk. it’s pretty flirty from jump and their talks get longer and longer to the point that they don’t even talk about sales or any of that shit just about each other. cassidy “takes work home” a night or two on his personal cell (and they have phone sex cough). and then eventually hanzo’s like alright tell me about this product of yours so i don’t make your superiors think i’m wasting your time. cassidy does the full pitch, hanzo actually considers it because he’s built up so much rapport with cole and it WOULD be beneficial for the business… so he’s just like cole i will consider your proposal and partnering with your company on one condition… and cole’s just anything sugar name your price. SO hanzo’s like i do not do online payments. i will only provide you a check… in person. and i will only sign if you are physically in my office. CLEARLY he’s saying “cole i need you in my bed and i’m willing to make this fucking happen” and cole knows but obviously it’s a recorded line when he’s in the office so he’s like hon lemme put you on hold. goes to talk to his boss and reyes (ig who is his boss i haven’t thought much about the company structure yet) is like: boy, if you get the shimada’s to sign i will promote you the second you come back WITH bonuses. and cole explains how hanzo will only sign if he goes in person and reyes is like i’ll book the flight for tomorrow LMAO. so cole goes back to his phone to talk to hanzo and said can i count on you to pick me up at the airport? and he can hear hanzo smiling over the line and HUEHUEHUE

yeah anyway when he gets to hanzo’s city they see each other in person they’re so fucking horny, they go to hanzo’s penthouse and fuck nasty style and then the next day hanzo goes over all the terms, signs the check and huzzah business partners lol. they probably get married in the future too LMAO

is it ethical?? idc the fic is hot to me LOL. one day i’ll write it 🌚

[jmdbjk]

Happy b-day Hobi.

Definition “spate”: a large number of similar things or events appearing or occurring in quick succession. A spate of live broadcasts in one week’s time...

2/10: Jimin the Lego king.

2/11: Jungkook’s workout starring The Chair. 

2/14: That little sneaky cat Yoongi dropping that bomb on us.

2/16: Namjoon's live. Short with a neck mark. 

2/17: And then Hobi on his 29th birthday. Could this be the last birthday live we see from him? For that matter, have we seen the last birthday lives from Joon and Jimin as well? Will they be tucked away somewhere on a military base by the time their next birthdays come around? We’ll see. For sure if Yoongi blesses us on March 9 with a birthday live THAT will be the last one from him as we expect him to be enlisted before the next one. 

Anyway, back to Hobi...

The Jack in the Box documentary was AMAZING! And he was so excited that it was finally released. 

He showed us his photofolio and said that he barely recognizes himself in the photos and now they seem to have a different feel for him. I am thinking since the fo-fo was so far in the past, even before his work on Jack in the Box commenced in earnest, he desired to show something other than sunshiney J-Hope and this was the beginning of that for him. And he saw us all immediately tagging the long purple haired images as “Legolas”. Nothing gets by him y’all. 

He seemed to choose his words carefully even saying he had a lot going on but was being careful what he said...But he does eventually talk about Hope in the Street. This project will be just as amazing as everything else he’s done. I hope we get to see Hobi exploring all the facets that street dance encompasses today. He said he’s almost finished filming it all but does not know when or how it will be released.

During this live he also said things like: why did J-Hope work on all of these things? In time we will see and understand. He mentioned a few times how time seems to really be flying by... perhaps his military service is staring him in the face and he is trying to do everything he wants before it is time to enlist [sound of my heartbreaking]. Hobi will be 30 next year. But let’s be honest [as Jimin would say]... we need them to get their butts enlisted so they can be back sooner than later... right? It’s a waiting game for us. They will do what is right for them when the time is right.

But just think of all the memories he has now of all these things he’s experienced on his own. 

The Bangtan Speed Dating agenda was alive and well in the comments. We seem to have moved on from Party Party Yeah and Yoongi Marry Me... finally.

Was he hinting that he filmed Suchwita earlier that day??? YES PLEASE!!

My heart is so full watching Hobi and Jimin’s friendship featured on both the doc and during Hobi’s live. They definitely epitomize BFF goals. Hobi says he’s seen Jimin unusually a lot lately. Them both being the workaholics of the bunch, it’s no wonder. Does anyone know which Sandcastle game it is they play? And them speaking in shorthand code: “understandable why it got dirty” and “are you coming tomorrow?” They know stuff we don’t. It’s not nice to keep secrets from us...

Yoongi showed up in the comments too with “Happy Birthday Bro” and I’ll finish it for him: #itsSugahyung ... since they apparently have abandoned the bird app. Times... they are a changin’...

[contentment-of-cats]

Getting through the rough ones

Today is my chemoversary! On this day in 2022, I had my last chemo treatment!

Also, the incision doesn't need to be packed any longer. It can close the rest of the way naturally!

~

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia back in 2007 after recovering from viral meningitis and an adult case of human parvo virus. I have experience with bad days where everything hurts. One thing I have learned is that when a certain point comes, 'pushing through' like a good little soldier will hurt you badly. I have also learned that I am a horrible judge of my own pain levels since my tolerance has gradually increased over time to live with levels of discomfort.

For example, for me a ten on the pain scale is me not able to do anything but scream. Higher brain functions off line. Scream until I pass out, wake up and scream some more. My first ten was waking up after my first cancer surgery in November 2022, my second was getting my chest tube pulled in July 2024. Now that I know where ten is, I can evaluate downwards. Also, when I was first given morphine, I was stunned at the lack of pain, but when the morphine wore off, then I understood what I'd been living with. Same thing with the benzodiazepines - my head was quiet for the first time in my life. Amazing. A revelation. I'd forgotten what it was like to be pain free, and never had any idea what it was like not to have anxiety constantly running as a subroutine in my head.

This week, 'pushing through' became a bad idea. One CT scan with contrast, one spider bite, one wasp sting, a body gearing up for a psoriasis or FM flare, and holy shit was that too much. So, not pushing through.

Nap as needed

Lots of hydration

Epsom salt foot baths - the incision's almost closed, but no full-body baths until it is.

Beeswax hand and foot dips - I was doing paraffin, but raw beeswax seems to have a longer effect. I just use the paraffin warmer.

I slowed down on the 'it's always leg day' workouts.

When I was looking at the possibility of another round of chemo and radiation, I went on a campaign to gain weight. My doc told me point blank that the only reason I lived the first time was that I had the fat to lose over 25 radiation treatments plus FOLFOX and 5FU chemo for six months. I did not lose enough weight and muscle for my body to start shutting down. I'm trying to maintain a body weight that if I have to go into chemo tomorrow, I can rely on that fat that I'll burn off by not eating.

It worked a little too well. :/

Back to work.

[honeekyuu]

hey this is the shy anon from the other day that read through your ao3 and i just wanted to stop in and say to take your time and don’t let these anons get to you. i know you’ve been writing on your ao3 for a while now but your tumblr is literally brand new and i’m honestly at a loss for words that you’re already getting rude anons and people pressuring you to post more.

you seem like a really busy gal and i’d hate for demands like that to burn you out. you’re doing amazing and don’t let anybody be an asshole to you. post what you want when you want/can, i’ve seen far too many people give up on fandom because they feel like they have to constantly churn out content to the detriment of their creativity and passion. you’re so talented and based on the frequency with which you’ve been writing in the last few months it seems like you have a fire in your soul for haikyuu. i hate seeing it taken for granted and i just wanted to let you know you have support in doing whatever the fuck it is you want.

(feel no obligation to reply to this, just wanted to offer some support after seeing such atrocious fandom etiquette literal days into the life of this blog)

wow, i really dont know what to say--

i saw this as soon as you sent it in, but i was honestly super shocked that id gotten it, so ive just been sitting here thinking ab it.

it means probably more than you realize that you sent something so kind. i've been writing for a long long time now (both here on a different blog and on ao3), and it's true that i am very busy, because unfortunately being a phd student and running experiments and spending all my time running back and forth between my advisors and conferences and the lab means i have a schedule thats not really a schedule, and i can never really say when or what im going to be inspired enough to write, enough that i can pull myself out of daily burnout. i experience writing droughts often, sometimes lasting up to a year before i feel the urge to sit down with a doc again. and i have a LOT of half-written fics that have never seen the light of day, which i plan to get back to eventually but which, in reality, may never get finished.

ive gotten so much love and support over the years, and it's brought me back to writing every time. i love haikyuu with my soul, and i think about my fics almost every day because i feel a burning need to write them. if not for anyone else, then just for me.

but this blog is brand new, so, even though that anon i received definitely tops the list of unfriendly comments ive gotten over the many years of writing, i wanted to be as kind and accommodating as possible. because i dont want people to think im ungrateful and will ignore criticism, because no one likes those kinds of writers. but i am also a person, and writing is hard, so i think i will continue to do things my way.

my writing style is this, for anyone who'd like to know: i am erratic, and i dont have an upload schedule, because i cant realistically manage one. i have periods of inactivity, because life is hard, and i have periods of hyperactivity, because i love this fandom and the way that haikyuu makes me feel in a life that's full of terrible feelings. this may annoy some people, and i can understand that. but i cant force myself to write if im not in a place to write, and i cant force myself to stick to one fic at a time, because then it'll be clear that it's been forced.

im extremely annoying and unhinged and feral and i will talk about several different fics and smaus and text threads and headcanons all within the same breath. but i will always write what i love, so if you'd like to see work that is well-loved, feel free to stick around.

thank you very much to everyone whos been so kind in my inbox tonight, and i hope to see you all tomorrow <3

[limetameta]

this started as a meme but turned into an emotional rollercoaster 🎢 and then an uplifting story about mental health?

So not that anyone asked but the thesis is going well which is why i am rewriting retired prometheus lmao

Stuff gets really mentally unhealthy down there

There are 15 google docs full of seperate chapters because bestie's laptop crashed when i tried to put her on the complete rp google doc???? My story kills laptops, what does yours do?

Bestie made a comment that the google doc chapters 1 through 7 is 100 pages long. And only chapter 1 is edited.

We put RP into that word count to page count converter and it says that the entire story is like 1200 pages or something. In comic sans it's like 1500 I think. Which we found delightful.

None of the chapters are updated yet on ao3 but it will end up longer lmao because i am adding scenes to help with pacing. Also to tie in the side stories and prequels.

All of this started because it's finally passed enough time since i wrote the ending that i can look at it objectively. Some parts of the story are very good and don't need as much rehauling though there are still those that haunt me.

There's this arc i dubbed The fucked arc in the story and i was going through quite possibly the worst part of my life and the writing is ineligible. I barely understand what's happening there. The sentence structure is all over the place. I only vividly remember not sleeping nights and wondering if I was supposed to kill myself and since the answer was yes, if I was going to do it tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. But I didn't want to die until I had finished retired prometheus, so i continued.

The writing in the fucked arc is bad, the content inside the writing is very vivid and heavy and why the folks who read my works endured until the writing got better again. I think about every review that encouraged me. I held onto those reviews like a lifeline and said: Well I promised I'd see this through. So I can't really end it yet. Abraxas and Tom haven't reunited yet for fucks sake *me wading through shitty sentences and awful pacing and a heinous mental breakdown* I need the toxic gays to kiss goddammit!

By the time I actually finished RP I had gotten into therapy and sorta healed. I say sorta because I never actually shook off what happened to me that year. I just kept thinking about it much less. But when I would remember it I would be consumed by my thoughts and I wouldn't really be able to get anything done.

Really the weirdest part was I thought that I was on a timer. Like I ever listened to timers to begin with. But I really rushed the updates like Hamilton in that Non stop song. Because I didn't know if I'd be alive to see the next update. If I'd jump in front of a car or if I'd drown in the sea off the coast of a beach I frequented.

Every big hiatus you'd see in retired prometheus on that chapter index page represents this really low point in my life. Because I only thrive in creative works when I am okay. When I am not deeply unwell. Back then I was.

I didn't really think about what others would say, but I only kept thinking about what a hassle it would be to kms. Though dying would be better than living on. Like that justice statue I'd be weighing the pros and cons of dying to myself. I'd try to get myself to have enough bravery to do it only to falter at the last second and be like as long as nobody knows why I want to do it, I can still pretend like my life isn't over. I can still smile through it and no one will be able to tell but me.

There's a photograph a friend of mine took with her professional camera of me from the summer of the fucked arc and I look like I'm ten years older than I am now. You could really just see the stress. Maybe my friend couldn't or she didn't know what I usually smiled like. I know my own honest smile and that's not something I can expect others to know. But my god I don't think I've ever been in more pain than I was then. Pro tip: don't zoom in on photos of yourself if you're going thru it! I personally think being a chain smoker for 30 years would have given me a kinder face.

Anyway writing would kind of be an excuse for me. So even if I hated everything i was writing I'd still post it because I didn't want retired prometheus to end up unfinished.

On so many occasions I bemoaned to bestie if I would ever finish writing retired prometheus because it was a ball and chain tying me to life. But also i kinda really did want to complete one project (ignores tens of tens of finished stories because they're not retired prometheus and they'll never be retired prometheus)

Then to add salt to injury my best friend not bestie kills herself a year later and I'm left like that pikachu meme going Hey Now! Hey! HEY NOW YOUNG MAN!

I felt like a poser because I was out there just thinking things and she was out there DOING IT!

A grief like nothing I had ever experienced struck me. I didn't know a person was able to feel such emotions until that moment. It was razing. It ruined every thought I had.

I realised such a lovely thing that at the time I hated: her death had shocked me out of my apathy. It thrust me into anger. Into something so deeply tangible I was struggling to accept it. She would never be someone I could hug again. Yet she thrust me back into life with such a vice grip I can feel her hands on my shoulders even now.

The people around me couldn't understand what I was going through. They saw me for the first time as someone at risk, because, if a close friend of mine died - then that, in this small minded country, meant that there was a cult going on. That my friend had not killed herself because she didn't see a way out but because she'd been conditioned to do it.

That because she had a rainbow in her Instagram bio and followed queer people. That's why she killed herself. Because queers in the Balkan remain a sect. A predatory group of people who are going to hurt your children and brainwash them.

I didn't want to kill myself anymore. If only because I had finally unlocked spite. Anger and spite got me on a bus. Secretly. My friend didn't tell anyone she was taking a day off work. I didn't tell anyone i was taking a day off work. My friend didn't tell anyone she was going on a bus to the tallest Bridge in our country. She was dead set on never coming back. And she knew we'd try to stop her. I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I knew my mother would scream at me. Just as she screamed at me in fear that I was going to be next.

Being put on the spotlight like that, for all the wrong reasons, made me want to do something I'd been afraid of doing for years.

I got on a bus that day because I was so tired of the Balkan. I was so tired of living in a place that was hell bent on making me feel worthless.

I got off the bus and walked towards a building not too far from the bus stop. Not too far from where I lived even. But I was wearing headphones and sunglasses and a hat and even a scarf. As I looked in the mirror in the hallway I thought that I'd dressed up just as I'd dressed Grindelwald in the Intermission chapters while he was running from the aurors.

If I had killed a person I would not have taken such effort to concealing my identity.

But where I had gone was a crime, you see. Not in a legal sense. But in a sense of *belief*.

What my friend had done could not be judged because she was dead and she didn't care for it anymore.

I could be judged. And I would be judged. Because that was the country I lived in. With the people I lived with. Who are scared to learn better. Who cling to the belief that what their parents know is good and what their parents know was even better.

Perhaps it would have been better for my family if I did kill myself than subject them to this humiliation?

It was summer. Not the summer of the fucked arc, but the fucked arc was still going. I had stopped asking bestie if would finish rp and if I would just get this stupid arc over. She told me I would. I didn't believe her.

My hand was shaking as I knocked on the door. Inside I introduced myself and said I had sent an email. From a burner email with a fake name. I did not want to give out my full name. But I had to. So I did.

Because not feeling anything was something I had accustomed myself to. Feeling so many things to such a degree as I had at the time was worse. I needed help.

HELP! Somebody! NOT JUST ANYBODY! HELP-

Naturally it only took all of 5 minutes for me to be cured of my mental illness and trauma. The therapist was a pro. And I was a writer with a flare for the dramatic.

Nudge nudge wink wink.

No, it took 5 minutes for me to breakdown about my friend killing herself.

5 minutes of me making jokes about trying therapy. 5 minutes of me trying to make light of the situation. 5 minutes of me being on the verge of tears and refusing to break down and be weak. Because I was better than everyone else who really needed therapy, you know. I wasn't mentally ill. I was just going through a tough time.

Mental illness was worse than if I killed myself. If I killed myself I could get away with being a drug addict. Anything was better than being mentally ill in the Balkan.

My therapist, like 5 minutes in: honestly I think everyone in the Balkan is mentally ill its just that nobody is getting any help for it.

Me thinking of every war this country has gone through only a 100 years back. I let a bunch of untreated mentally ill clowns hold me back from asking for help.

And for what???

Judgement???

I was doing something that took so much more bravery than killing myself would have taken. I was doing something no one in my family, for as long as my line has existed, has ever done: I was going to therapy.

I wasn't drinking rakija until I couldn't see. I wasn't smoking until my lungs gave out. I wasn't starving myself. I wasn't flinging myself from one emotion till the next and making others walk around egg shells around me.

It wouldn't be months until I'd tell my mother I was seeing a therapist, because this was a secret still. As if I was having an affair, I would lie and say I was going to the beach or that I was going drinking with friends. And I would take my bus. In the opposite direction both metaphorically and literally to the one my friend took when she decided to end her life.

The therapist was kind. She still is. But I'm glad she was the one who took me on. I didn't tell her about what happened to me, about why the fucked arc is so badly written. I couldn't get the words out of my mouth, my teeth were so gritted. So instead I talked about other fires that needed putting out.

And I thrived creatively. I wrote the ugliest things I've ever written and I loved it. I loved every word I was putting out there. I felt like myself again.

When my mother learned I was going to therapy she started shouting: Are you only going there to complain about what a terrible mother I am?

And I just remember saying: you *and* dad.

Much like you can expect, slavic parents do not understand that therapy is real and helpful. They think that this is like a drug. That if I become addicted to therapy I will not be able to function in society without having to consult my therapist, drink my therapy, and become a shell of myself.

After years of seeing an apathetic ghost, no doubt she blamed therapy for my anger and my outbursts and my having emotions. I, for one, blamed the bitch who killed herself and got me in this mess.

I swear to god this started as a meme post! Please believe me I had no intention of sitting down for hours on the couch to write this. I put on a dungeon and dragons episode from dimension 20 for fucks sake.

My mother is still against therapy. If I had a father I'd ask. But he'd probably say that writing was his therapy. Just like retired prometheus had been mine. No wonder he writes like shit.

A year later I finished retired prometheus and decided I wouldn't look back. Especially because I think the ending bummed a lot of folks out. And I was like you don't know what being bummed out is you fuckers you came to the mentally ill story and got to the end and you won't even leave a review shame on you don't you know I used to use those as a reason to live. Lmaooo actually just like that Key and Peele skit with the give a dollar save a child shtick. Leave a review and I live another day.

This is the part where we de-escalated this post somehow.

I need to go to work tomorrow. I need to sleep.

This rewrite was a long time coming. Because I know I can do better. I have grown so much more as a writer and I want that to be reflected in a story that is like an autobiography to me. I look at a chapter, at a line, and I know what people i used to hang out with. I know which cafes or bars i used to frequent. I read an inside joke and I laugh.

I don't want the fucked arc to hold me back. I know I can make it better.

But I can only do so now after years have passed. After I know with utmost certainty that I am okay.

It wouldn't really be until this year that I felt completely unburdened by the shit I was going through that year when the fucked arc began. So kind of as a commemoration to that I'm rewriting Retired Prometheus.

Gonna give yall some of those dvd menu extra scenes now because ur gonna finally read the deluxe edition.

[sheliesshattered]

So it turns out I completely forgot to take any pictures of my last sewing project. Oops. In fairness, it's a gift for my mother, whose birthday is tomorrow, and I didn't want to post any pictures until after it had arrived at her house and been opened. But I still meant to take some pictures, if not of the process at least of the final product. It wasn't until I got home from mailing it that I realized I full on completely forgot to take any photos at all. Oh well. Maybe Mom can snap a picture or two for me since I flat out forgot. Pics of that if/when I actually have them, lol.

But I'm already into my next sewing project, and I've resolved not to make that same mistake again. Which, really, is nearly the same mistake as I made with my fleece dress last month, when I didn't take any pictures at all until all the major seams were sewn. After documenting so much of my sewing throughout 2023, I seem to have completely forgotten all about taking photos of my works-in-progress the last couple of months. I aim to get back on course with this project, though!

The project in question is a hooded wrap sort of thing, made from the black and gray brushed cotton herringbone that I got a bolt of on ebay a couple of weeks back. After washing the bolt, it looks to be about 43" wide and roughly eight and a half yards long. I want to make an overdress for my fleece dress out of it too, but I think this wrap project will only take up about a yard and a half, maybe two, so I should have plenty left for an overdress. And then I can wear the wrap and the overdress together, potentially.

But really the thing I'm sewing this for is my birthday, which is coming up in about seven weeks. I have somehow talked Jack into going to Disneyland and spending all day in the Star Wars Galaxy's Edge area so I can pilot the Millennium Falcon as many times as possible, and doing some original costuming "Batuu-bounding" while we're there, too. Because I am nothing if not a costume nerd, and my life-long love for Star Wars has recently been reignited, so what better way to spend my birthday than dressed up in one of the best examples of 360 degree set building that I've ever seen.

After combining a bunch of pieces from my closet and my costume boxes, I've come up with an outfit that I like the look of, for a general purpose Force-sensitive smuggler pilot: my every-day tall Doc Martens with wraps over them, leather-look leggings, the vest from my Moment cosplay, and various accessories from my pirate-core and Wasteland days. I may need a better shirt to go with it, but I'm hoping to hit up Goodwill at least once or twice between now and then and see what I can find. The final choice will depend on a bit on the weather that week, which in late February in southern California can be literally anything from the cusp of freezing to 80 degrees, sunny or rainy or windy or some combination of all of them. I won't really know until the weekend beforehand.

Besides a shirt, the last piece I really want to add is this hooded wrap, both for practicality -- warmth in the morning and the evening, and keeping the sun off my head at midday without messing up my hair too much -- and for just the drama of a big hood and drapey wrap. I based the hood pattern on the hooded Vuvalini jacket I made for Wasteland Weekend way back in 2016, but took it in a bit both in width and depth (since I'm not trying to catch the wind with this one, and won't be wearing a fluffy scarf with it).

Over the weekend I drafted a pattern and made a mock-up, but the mock-up is really kinda ugly, since I used left over fabric and made a part of it significantly smaller just to save on fabric, so it's one of those mock-ups where you have to squint and imagine what the final product will look like. Not going to bother taking pictures of that. But it did serve the purpose of clarifying some design elements and finalizing fit, so still worthwhile.

With the hood pattern drafted and tested, and measurements for the long wrap bits figured out, I went ahead and cut it out of the herringbone fabric. Here it is all cut out, three pieces for the hood and two pieces for the back:

I'm doing french seams on this project, both to combat the fabric's tendency to fray, and to keep all the inner seams looking pretty when the hood is down, etc. Tonight I sewed up the first set of seams on the center back of the wrap, and all three hood pieces (as modeled by my sewing ham):

Tomorrow I'll press those narrow seams flat, and then sew each of them again a bit further in to completely encase the raw edges (ie a classic french seam). Next step after that will be attaching the hood to the right angle formed by the wrap pieces coming together in the center back. I did this, with shorter and narrower pieces, in my mock-up, and it's a little bit fiddly but not too bad. I didn't french seam the mock-up though, so we'll see if that adds any headaches to this.

Once both stages of the neck seam are done and the hood is attached, the last step will be hemming! And it's a lot of hemming, lol. The shorter edges of the wrap (starting from the top of the center back, where it meets the hood) are each 48" long and 18" wide. I actually haven't measured the outer, longer edge, nor done the math to figure out what it must be given that the center back is cut on a 45 degree bias, but let's just say it's a lot of inches. And then there's the hood opening too, which was cut to have a generous drape. Many many inches of hemming, really probably better measured in yards.

I need to play around with a couple of options, see if I like the look of top stitching or if I want to do the whole thing by hand with invisible stitches, but right now my assumption is that I'll end up doing this by hand. I actually enjoy handsewing hems, so that's not the worst thing in the world, and I've got plenty of time to get this finished before I plan to wear it at the end of February. I do have at least one other sewing project I'd like to tackle for our Star Wars Batuu-bounding day, and I'd like to leave room for other things to come up at the last minute too, so I'm going to keep buzzing through this just as quickly as I can. More pictures tomorrow, in all likelihood.

After I call my mom of course, and wish her a happy birthday. And beg her for photos of that thing I made for her, lol.

[andersunmenschlich]

Transcript below cut:

I LITERALLY stopped working on my memo so I could read this indictment.

I am on page 24 and JESUS LUPITA NYONG'O CHRIST.

HOW this man still has the capacity to shock me after everything that's happened, i'll never know.

but I am sitting here *STUNNED*.

I'll be honest-- b/c i really DO lean into naivete sometimes. it's difficult for me to assume the worst from ppl, even when they have done all of the worst things.

so this wholllllle time, i've been thinking, "wonder why he didn't give back those docs. he's probably lost them."

and also, "this dingus just grabbed shit from the white house b/c he's too stupid to know he couldn't. he probably doesn't even realize what he has."

lol.

nooooooooooooooooooooope. noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooope.

this was a DELIBERATE and CONCERTED effort to remove the most sensitive docs the country has, and KEEP them.........and then SHOW THEM TO PPL AT HIS LEISURE WHILE *ACKNOWLEDGING* THAT HE WAS NEITHER SUPPOSED TO HAVE THEM OR SHOW THEM....

he haphazardly stored the docs ANY DAMNED WHERE........INCLUDING.........IN A GODDAMNED BATHROOM SHOWER.......they were chucked to some random room in Mar a lago, and occasionally the boxes----because there were SOOOOOOOOO MANY--would tumble down......

and TOP SECRET DOCUMENTS.........DOCUMENTS HAVING TO DO WITH DEFENSE PLANS, MILITARY CAMPAIGNS, NUKES, YOU NAME IT.....DOCUMENTS *CLEARLY MARKED* "TOP SECRET" AND "SECRET" AND "CONFIDENTIAL" AND TWO OTHER DESIGNATIONS I'D NEVER EVEN HEARD OF BEFORE TODAY...BUT WHICH APPARENTLY

MEAN SUPER DUPER DUPER DOUBLE PINKY SWEARSIES REALSIES SECRET......WOULD JUST............

SPILL OUT ONTO THE GD FLOOR........AND LIE THERE.........EXPOSED FOR ALL TO SEE.........JUST.....NAKED AND BARING ALL TO THE WORLD LIKE A NATIONAL SECURITY FULL MONTY.

AND AS IF *THAT* WEREN'T ENOUGH.....the Archives asked this MF fifty-leven times to give all this stuff back. and 45 would be all, "I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING I GOT. DAMN. SHIT. THERE'S NOTHING HERE."

THEN HE WOULD HAVE HIS AIDES MOVE THE BOXES......

AND HE WOULD TRAVELLLLLLLLLLLLL WITHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THE BOXESSSSSSSSSSSS.

and some member of his family....ivanka or melania or lara......ALSO knew he had the boxes......

but he would TRAVEL WITHHHHHHH THEM. BECAUSE THAT WAS--PRESUMABLY--the ONLY WAY TO MAKE SURE HE KEPT THEM.

BUT WHAT'S WILDER STILL............IS THAT THIS MF HAD LAWYERS WHO WERE LIKE, "Fam. For serious. You need to turn in ANYTHING that you have that is a file and belongs to the US Government. DEAD. ASS."

and 45 was all...TO THE LAWYERS.......TO THESE OFFICERS OF THE COURT...."couldn't y'all just tell them there's nothing here?" and "wouldn't it be better if we just.....kinda like.....burned all this shit...you know....if it were here....*hypothetically*."

and one lawyer was all....... [image of a person with an "are you kidding me" expression]

then he was like, "you got this subpoena on may 11. i'm coming through on the first of the month to run through that WHOLE SHIT...and i'ma make SURE *NOTHING* that belongs to THESE UNITED ASS STATES is in that garish monstrosity you pretend is a house."

SO 45 has his body man and his aides MOVE THE BOXES AGAIN. LIKE JUST..........SCORES OF BOXES........HE HAS THEM MOVE A GAZILLION BOXES AGAIN.......TO HIDE THEM FROM.......................HIS *LAWYERS*. [image: Wtf Is Going On What GIF by truTV’s Hack My Life]

AND THENNNNNNNNNNNNN....THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DAY HIS LAWYER IS SUPPOSED TO COME THROUGH......HE CALLED HIM.......AND WAS LIKE, "Aye, dawg. You still coming tomorrow? I was sitting here talking to the homies and like...we don't know why you're coming. Why are you coming?"

and the lawyer was like, (*presumably deep sigh here*), "I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I'm coming through to move through the house and make sure i can tell them we complied with the subpoena. i'm gonna make sure you don't have anything you're not supposed to. Okay?"

and 45 is like, "OHHHHHHHHH! Right. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcool....cool. Come on through, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Then he hung up.

AND HAD HIS BODYMAN MOVE MORE BOXES.

I have to keep reading. but what i really need you to know....is that whoever drafted this is giving us NEXT LEVEL #caliber dorian corey shade.

because SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT.....are excerpts from quotes that donald trump gave the press during campaigns and his presidency-

boasting about how good he'd be at keeping this country's secrets safe...how we needed a return to discretion and how ppl who violated national security laws and breached the protections afforded our most sensitive docs needed to be punished with the

full might of the law.

for real.

for real. GASP.

ch-

the lawyer went to mar a lago, and 45 and his aides were just sitting there, like, "oh yeah. this guy wants to make sure we've turned all the stuff in. somebody take him back to the room and make sure he's comfortable."

the lawyer goes, looks around....and finds 38 things that were top secret.

and, honest to God....i think they left that stuff there deliberately so that it wouldn't look like they'd cleaned house.

so the lawyer packages up what's left......goes back out, and 45 has the AUGODDAMNEDDACITY TO BE LIKE, "Wassup? How are we lookin'?"

HAND TO GOD, this man says, "Is it good? is it bad?"

AS THOUGH HE HADN'T DIRECTED EVERYONE TO CLEAN HOUSE.

THEN when the lawyer shrugs and indicates that there's still some chester copperpot level shit in the box he's carrying, 45 MIMES taking out the secret stuff and disposing of it..... MIMES.

WITH HIS WEE HANDS.

the lawyer apparently ignores it, and is like, "okay. i'm gonna being in last lawyer and i'm gonna tell her that i went all the way through everything you said you had. then i'm gonna tell her that what i'm holding RIGHT NOW is the last of ANYthing that you have and

aren't supposed to. SO IF THERE IS ANYTHING ELSE IN THIS HOUSE, TELL ME NOW. CAUSE SHE'S COMING WITH AN OFFICIAL ASS PAPER THAT I AM TENDERING TO THE FEDS....AND WE DON'T LIE TO THE FEDS...SO IS THIS IT, DONALD?"

and 45 is like, "on my mama."

so the lawyer brings the other lawyer in, and is like, "this is it. this is everything. so you can safely put your good name and your good Bar ID number on this super official sworn statement. b/c 45 said this is it and we've complied."

let me just stop for a moment, right here and tell you that i would *literally* die first...

i would ****literally**** ****DIE**** before i relied on that man's representations.

i'd lie down in the center of my living room floor-

cover myself up in a blanket- rollllllllllllllllll from wall to wall, back and forth, until i was Dexter secure in the bedding-

and then will my body to cease breathing...

before i'd put MY NAME on some shit off the STRENGTH of Donald Gargamel John Trump's word.

so the lawyers turned that weak ass certification in.......and told the NATIONAL ARCHIVES RECORDS ADMINISTRATION.........THE ENTITY CHARGED WITH THE TASK OF MAINTAINING OUR COLLECTIVE MEMORY AS A NATION.......

"that's all we got."

AS IF THIS FEDERAL AGENCY.........WHOSE *CHIEF* RESPONSIBILITY IS *LITERALLY* TO *KEEP* THINGS......WOULDN'T KNOW.......THIS VERITABLE MOUNTAIN OF DOCUMENTS........WAS MISSING.

the feds got that certification back and looked at that shit like [Jimmy Butler gif: it looks like he's going "what? mmm... NO."]

then they subpoenaed video surveillance from Mar a Lago......

BECAUSE OF COURSE.

and what do they see? the bodyman and the aides NOT ONLY MOVING BOXES........but MOVING BOXES ONTO A PLANE... AND THEN THAT PLANE TAKING OFF......WITH TRUMP IN TOW.......FLYING AWAY FOR THE SUMMER

b/c he wanted the boxes with him at his vacation house. [image: a disappointed/fed up looking cartoon child in a baseball uniform]

lol..........soooooooooooooooooooo the DOJ sent them boys in.......

and the windbreakers searched that stucco, Mediterranean-style abomination from top to bottom......

and found 100+ more protected docs.

your. boy. is. a. CLOWNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

there's a breakdown of the stuff they found.

my. word.

every time i see the words "concerning military capabilities of the united states," "concerning nuclear weaponry of the united states"-- i just....

WOW.

WOW. WOW. WOW.

this is the bodyman.

if the past is indeed prologue, and we draw from my favorite episode in american history ever, brought to us courtesy of messrs. mitchell, haldeman, ehrlichman, colson, hunt, and liddy-

HE goes DIRECTLY to jail, and 45....well...doesn't. [photo of a smiling bald person with magnificent eyebrows, in a suit and tie, in front of a US flag]

I genuinely hope, that if, over the course of these twitter years, you have taken but ONE THING from EVERYTHING I've EVER told you...

It's to not lie to the Feds.

DO NOT LIE TO THE FEDS.

Just decline the interview and get indicted on whatever they've got.

You can beg for grace later. There are literally mechanisms in place for ppl who come clean and are helpful to them down the line.

Just decline the interview.

But DO. NOT. LIE.

This dude is the valedictorian of jackasses. [image of a question and answer session, description between the following dashes, in red]

—

Question: And what—so, so you only saw the 15 boxes, 15, 17 boxes—

Answer: Mm-hm. [a red arrow points to this. there is also a shocked doodle face.]

Question: —the day of the move? Even—they just showed up that day?

Answer: They were in Pine Hall. [Trump Employee 2] just asked me, hey, can we move some boxes?

Question: Okay.

Answer: And I was like, okay.

[the bottom of this page is numbered 43. the next page starts with "Case 9:23-cr-80101-AMC Document 3 Entered on FLSD Docket 06/08/2023 Page 44 of 49".]

Question: So you didn't know—had no idea how they got there before?

Answer: No. [this section has a large red "LOL" drawn over it]

—

NOT THIS SUZANNE SUGARBAKER-STYLE CONFUSED DENIAL. [image of a question and answer session, description between the following dashes, in red]

—

WALDINE NAUTA,

in a matter within the jurisdiction of the executive branch of the United States government, did knowingly and willfully make a materially false, fictitious, and fraudulent statement and representation; that is—in a voluntary interview during a federal criminal investigation being conducted by the FBI, NAUTA was asked the following questions and gave the following false answers:

Question: Does any—are you aware of any boxes being brought to his home—his suite?

Answer: No.

[three diamonds end the page; the next page starts with "Case 9:23-cr-80101-AMC Document 3 Entered on FLSD Docket 06/08/2023 Page (illegible) of 49".]

Question: All right. So, so to the best of your knowledge, you're saying that those boxes that you brought onto the truck, first time you ever laid eyes on them was just the day of when [Trump Employee 2] needed you to—

Answer: Correct.

Question: —to take them. Okay.

[three diamonds]

Question: In knowing that we're trying to track the life of these boxes and where they could have been kept and stored and all that kind of stuff—

Answer: Mm-hm.

Question: —do you have any information that could—that would—that could help us understand, like, where they were kept, how they were kept, were they secured, were they locked? Something that makes the intelligence community [illegible] about these things, you know?

Answer: I wish, I wish I could tell you. I don't know. I don't—I honestly just don't know. [this answer has been circled in red. part of the red circle obscures one line of the question above. bright red letters along the right side of the page read, "son!!"]

—

anyway, that's it.

in summation,

everything is awful.

End transcript.

...Just read this thread. JUST READ IT.

[wishfilled]

PSA: the following post is about my mental health.

I manage my depression with medication and talk therapy. Once a year, my seasonal depression makes my meds seem like they are no longer working for about a week, typically just before the clocks change.

I find my depression is worse when I am unoccupied. I therefore purposefully fill my schedule with more clients than I typically can handle (as in I get no breaks and finish the day later than usual).

I know my random tears, fuzzy thoughts, and so on are all due to the extra darkness and so on. I know it's not my fault, and I know I am doing all I can to help myself. It's so hard, and I am mainly typing this out as a reminder to myself that I am okay.

I have reached out to the appropriate docs. I have and use a light box. My husband is great (tonight fed me and gave hugs as needed). My dog is my shadow and has my back. I am okay.

However, I really am not okay (as My Chemical Romance starts playing in my head). This battle never gets easier. I never know for certain when my mind is going to turn on itself. I have to handle this while still managing my diabetes, running my business, and normal life stuff. My mental health and physical health are individually full time jobs, but I get to juggle both AND everything else. There are times when it's just a bit too much.

I'm going to try to read and escape this world for a few hours. Hopefully tomorrow is better.

[areallybadwriter]

8/7

I made it to the city. A little above what I wanted to pay for rent, I moved in to a nice second story apartment with a lot of natural lighting and two really good friends. It is the first time I've lived with either of them, but so far the roommate dynamic is good. I think we are all more on the communicative side, but also laid back and self-responsible enough where nothing big should arise as an issue. We've had a couple problems since moving in, including a incessant leak coming from our bathroom ceiling that has yet to be fixed by the countless maintenance people and a few windows that don't seem to be properly attached to their respective areas. We also have two cats (one belonging to each of my roommates) that were not properly discussed on the lease - in fact, not allowed - but one is a certified ESA and the other "doesn't exist". Our landlord is quite upset about it but what are you gonna do? They're not my cats anyways. Other than the issues, the move has been quite successful. I am wholeheartedly broke at the moment and job searching. I have a second interview lined up for a very, very serious barista job tomorrow and I really hope I get it so I can get back to working & making money. It has been a real struggle to not work because there's not much else to fill up my time during the days. A little break was nice, sure, but I'm ready to get back into it. I sold clothes at Buffalo Exchange today, including a couple very nice bags that hurt to let go of, if that tells you how broke I am. Other than that, it's been fun. We've been out to a couple bars in the area now and our little group just caught a show at a concert hall that cost me $5 a ticket. We've had some good food and I'm excited to become a regular at the cuban place I live close to. Walking everywhere has been great too which was something that happened irregularly in the last city I lived in because it was heavily car dependent. Now, I'm walking an average of like 13,000 steps a day which feels really good (except I have a killer blister from my docs at the moment).

Moving has brought on a new era of loneliness for me admittedly and I'm trying to deal with it fast or else I know I'll sink into a bout of sadness. I've left some of my best friends behind (one refuses to move to the city until they find a job which I can't blame them for) and most of my regular bootycalls, as well as my parents. All the important ones. What's really hard is that both of my roommates, as well as the rest of the friend group that migrated, have significant others already. It hasn't been too much of an issue, but when they want to detach themselves from the larger group to do a date night or something, it sucks because I haven't found other friends to hang out with. I've matched with a lot of people on tinder (people that I could actually see myself meeting up with because why not) but it's a little different to have people you can depend on. And I hate meeting boys! Always so nerve-racking when it doesn't need to be and usually not worth my time anyways. Don't really know what I'm looking for either.

With my loneliness, I've been coming to another very adult realization/observation about a lot of my relationships with men. Specifically men who are friends and who I've slept with in the past as a casual/one-nighter thing. I have two guy friends (both living in the city, too) who almost use me as a stand-in, pseudo girlfriend while they search for a real one. And of course I've had part in it by not setting my boundaries very well and everything but it feels so shitty. It's hard to write about without giving the full details but I just feel like I am always there for them in this caregiving role, like I'm the girlfriend or mom without any of the reward. I provide them with things (nothing physical) that might transcend a normal boy/girl relationship and it has started to wear on my more as I'm single and maybe putting myself out there for a bigger relationship. One of them has recently gotten a girlfriend, and as I've now drawn the line in the sand and kind of pulled back from the friendship, he assumes that I'm unfairly upset with him. And I'm not particularly upset with him at all really, it's just that I think putting so much effort into a relationship with a man (where it has been romantic in the past) while they have a partner is crazy. I treaded onto too many relationships in high school because I was the close "girl best friend" of guys who were actually just kind of assholes. I think especially when it affects me emotionally, it's a dynamic that is just plain wrong and not something that I should invest so much time or effort in. I've also found with this particular guy that once he has no use for me/no longer finds me attractive/can't flirt with me constantly, he just becomes mean and uncaring, which is something that shouldn't happen if we were really just good friends. It makes me think of that study or quote that says that men usually aren't friends with girls they're not attracted to. The other problem child is way less comparable to the first, as it's a completely different set of situations but it still confuses the hell out of me. Me & I slept together awhile ago when we were both plastered and I always had a huge crush on him (before and after hooking up). He was the first to move to the city and we kept in contact the whole time and would see each other occasionally. The last couple of times I've seen him, it's been a touch and grab fest whether sober or not. We're very close and we always at least sleep in the same room or same bed whenever a sleepover is involved. There's always some excuse to be right next to each other or cuddling or whatever. For my birthday, I was in the city with some friends and he was there for most of it. He took us to a club and bought me bottle service and cuddled me in the morning. Now that I'm here in Chicago (which he's delighted about), we've gone out a couple times and it's the same thing. He came to the show at Thalia the other night and was plastered, which meant he was hanging onto me the whole night. Arm around my shoulder or waist, kissing my temple, dancing with me, talking into my ear as the band played. All romantic things except for the fact that we're not romantically involved at all. I don't necessarily have a crush on him anymore, and if I do, its dormant feelings that stir up when he behaves like that. And I have to admit that it feels good to be close with someone like that (physically, emotionally, etc.) but at the end of the day when I'm alone and thinking too much it gets trapped in my head. I wouldn't dare say anything to him about it ever, because I truly believe he doesn't have any romantic inclination towards me. We talk about girls he's talking to on Hinge all the time and I detail my latest hookup stories for him when I feel like talking about it. The sensitive, stupid parts of my brain just can't handle it very well.

wyoming and I have semi made-up. At this point, I don't even want to read the posts of this blog back because I know I've gone back and forth on it for so long. We are keeping a distance now for sure, but some things have come up where it's caused me to think about the end goal. When I was out drinking with friends in my hometown a week or two before I moved, I ended up hooking up with him at our spot. It was a total bootycall on my end, and while I think I treated him fairly for how he's been with me these last couple of months, I think that it affected him negatively. A lot of times with sex & intimacy for me nowadays, I detach myself emotionally so it doesn't bring up anything complicated that I don't want to deal with. And while I'm fully aware that I can't really let my emotions seep when it comes to Wyoming, I tried my fullest the night I hooked up with him. Somewhat mean, avoiding talking about myself or talking too much in general, etc. While I wanted to see him and desired some sort of physicality, I was still very much aware of the pain it had caused me in the past. Anyways, we had a very adult conversation about it recently where he said that it affected him quite a bit and he wasn't ready to do casual sex like that if he wasn't prepared to do it all the time/commit to a more serious thing. Which is really understandable and probably quite a good decision for both of us. We agreed we were still good and that if our relationship hadn't been shot to hell at this point (after 7 years of trials and tribulations), not much could stop it at this point. We are being patient with it. While I'm open to small things in the mean time - seeing as I'm 23 and in a new city - I've decided that it is worth it to be patient and that it's something I want in my future. I think he plans on visiting me soon which I'm really excited for. Last time we were here together we had a blast and let me fully plan/choose the stuff we were doing which I thrive off of. It sounds corny but I really think its a sixth type of love language. I like showing my people the good food, the good places, the places that I love in hopes they enjoy it just as much. And now I have a lot more places to show him.

I am nervous for my interview tomorrow, as there are three people who will be interviewing me as a conglomerate. I've never had to interview with more than two people before and apparently we're meeting in one of the locations conference rooms. For a barista job! It's crazy. I think I will fit in nicely there and they definitely give off the same vibe as my last coffeeshop where maybe the customer isn't always right and there's a real value for art and community and collaboration. What worries me is that one of my guy friends (neither of the guys mentioned above) just got an interview at the same location. While I am very confident in my abilities and myself, he is one of those people that other people just naturally gravitate towards. I told him he was the luckiest person I knew the other day, which is true. He went in for an interview for some door job for a bar and he got it on the spot with no actual interview at all. It's frustrating because I feel like sometimes I work twice as hard or care twice as much and it barely compares to how people perceive him because he talks loud and carries (man) confidence. Especially when he's already scored a job to make money and I have no flow of income at the moment. If he gets it over me, I'll be heartbroken. It's really something I should get into but I don't feel like it tonight.

I don't really feel at home here yet and it sort of just feels like a big vacation where I'm required to spend a lot of money on apartment stuff and feeding myself. this city was one of my first loves, so it's still very easy to get wrapped up in it, but I am homesick. I don't have the same community or routine and this time I have the weight and responsibility of being an adult who has adult things to do and pay for. I'm reminded of my getting older every day and I miss being younger so bad. And being younger really sucked for me. I think I'm somewhat holding myself back from things because I'm not comfortable enough yet in this city to do things on my own. Sure, I can go out of my own and walk around and grab food and shop, but I really value taking myself to movies or trying new things and I'm too nervous to do that yet. And literally no one cares about me or what I'm doing but my brain just refuses to let me. Like I can't imagine taking myself out to a sit down restaurant, but I want to. And I'm going to have to because honestly I love finding new shit to do or new restaurants or events and my friends aren't fully onboard with that always. Also, no one from this group likes the band citizen and they're playing here in the city and I have to go whether I'm alone or not. Eek.

Will keep you updated on the rest soon.

xoxo anon

[lemon0chi]

I just wanted to make some sketches of hermits... but I accidentally started doing a full art drawing. It's 3:05 am, and I'm posting it because I'm going to hate this work tomorrow(I will definitely see some huge mistakes, but i love it right now). Maybe I’ll draw Scar or Doc tomorrow.

Good night everyone!.. or good morning? a day? I need to get some sleep.

[fckwritersblock]

More Than Therapy

Bucky x black!reader

Warning: sooooo there is smut ahead. Okay like, not complete filth but it’s there! Who even knows what this is, but enjoy it!

Pic below from post by @afriendlyblackhottie

(Unedited.)

“Look, I’m not saying that she’s not a great therapist, I’m just think that she’s not your style.”

Bucky didn’t hide his eye roll.

For the past 2 weeks, Sam had been trying to convince him he needed a second option. Ever since he had his own encounter with Bucky’s therapist, which consisted of being forcefully included in one of their sessions, he could see it wasn’t really helping Bucky at all. Not that Sam was an expert or anything, he just knew his.....friend.

“Alright Sam, fine.” Bucky sighed tossing the wrench to the side. “So what. I kick my therapist to curb, then what? You got some kind of recommendation or something?”

Sam just smirked before turning and making his way off the boat.

“Actually I do.”

Now here Bucky was, waiting on another person to come and try to break down all his walls and get in his head and help him with through his ‘issues’.

“Waste of time.” He mumbled to his self.

However, when she walked in the door, that thought quickly left.

“I’m Y/n.”

“James”

“It’s nice to meet you James.”

For the first time in a very long time Bucky felt comfortable almost immediately. The conversation didn’t feel forced, he didn’t feel pressured, it was just easy. Y/n didn’t push and pry. She simply let him answer the way he want and what he wanted. She let him sort of control the conversation. It was refreshing.

From then on, he saw her twice a week. Their first two weeks together was just them getting to know one another. Establishing trust on Buckys end. He appreciated that for once the woman so much pressure for him to be OK so soon. Finally, after about a month or so, they were doing a little exercises here and there to work through his trauma. The first assignment, it was actually pretty similar to the last psychiatrist he had seen. To get out and make at least one friend. Find an activity or something that he enjoys.

“So have you been getting out like we discussed?”

“Yeah I’ve gone out.” He nodded carelessly with a grin as he sat across the table from her.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “To places besides the bar.”

“Yes.”

“Liar.” She said and it was her turn to grin as she held her hand out.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, handing over his phone. Bucky watched her click a few buttons knowing she was checking his contacts. This was like Deja vu.

“You have the same amount of numbers in your phone as last week Barnes.”

“Not true Doc, I have you.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I hardly count Barnes.” A small smile graced her face nonetheless.

She was quiet for a moment and he took that opportunity to study her. In deep thought. Y/n had a tell. She’d bite the corner of her bottom lip on the right side every time she was trying to figure something out. Usually before she came up with his homework before the next session.

“I have a thought but you’re not gonna like it.” She began after while.

“Lay it on Doc.”

“I don’t feel like you are actively trying to be a part of society. What you’ve been doing, trying to right your wrongs of the other guy...” she drifted for a moment. “It’s futile. You don’t need to do that. That-“

Y/n paused taking a deep breath.

“That’s not you.” She spoke softly.

“But that is me! I am winter soldier!” He yelled on his feet quickly.

Anger. He was familiar with the feeling. Angry was something he just couldn’t seem to stop feeling. Even if he didn’t show it, it was like he was angry all the time. However feeling it with her was unfamiliar. And he could feel the inner turmoil of him taking his frustrations out on her as he tried to push that anger back down.

“Were.” Y/n stated with finality, voice strong. “You were the winter Solider. And that wasn’t you. That’s just a couple of dark chapters in the book of your life. That’s it.

“You don’t know m-“

“But that is not you.” She repeated a little louder commanding forcing him to look her dead in the eyes. “That’s not who you are, James. And while I may not have known you pre-hydra, or during, but I’m knowing you now. And that’s just not you.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair.

“I know that here, Bucky.” She grinned a little placing her hand over her heart and tapped twice. “And deep down, so do you.”

“. You, James Buchanan Barnes, you are not the bad guy.

The anger he had been feeling had subsided and I was replaced with something that was completely unfamiliar to him. Something he longed for couldn’t quite the grass. Something that he didn’t even realize was in within his reach until noon.. The feeling, regardless of how unfamiliar it was with something Bucky didn’t think he wanted to go away.

The silence between them was comfortable. Y/n could tell that he was processing her words. It was a good thing, she could because he was no longer good tense and his stance was relaxed instead of defensive.

“You know what? We’re finished for today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She declared.

“What?” Bucky snapped out of his tranced and frowned. “Doc, come on. I shouldn’t be seeing you til Thursday.”

“Yeah tomorrow,” she nodded with a smile. “I want to try something different.”

The next day but he showed up at their usual time, 11 AM. When he stopped at a reception to ask for Dr. Y/n they informed him she was out for the day. He frowned and turned to leave only to find her approaching him from the elevator.

“Hey! You ready to go?” Y/n offered a gentle smile.

“I thought we were-“ he asked went fo point back toward her office but she stopped him.

“We are. We’re just doing things differently today.” She informed him, before nodding her head toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”

Their day together was eventful to say the least. Their first stop was her favorite coffee spot. It was actually a little hole in the wall called Hippies Brew in the downtown area. A cool modern place full of friendly and eccentric individuals. It was comfortable. Homey. It wasnt one she’d typically recommend clients, but she would recommend it to friends. After that they were too the aquarium followed by the park where they sat on a park bench for lunch. Lunch being tacos from the El Gordo’s taco truck parked near by. Well a lot of the time at the park or spit in silence, it was still comfortable as a people watched together. While Bucky hated to admit it, this is the first time he really just felt at peace. There was no one looking over him with some unrealistic expectation of him to be Steve, and become so hero he wasn’t. There was no pressure to get his shit together right then and there. He was just simply allowed to be Bucky. Unapologetically.

“Walk with me?” He asked.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, surprised he initiated doing something together, but agreed with a smile.

Soon enough they easily fell into conversation of as they began to walk the lake.

Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set. Their time together lasted longer than Y/n planned but either was it was nice. She enjoyed today, as did he. Bucky’s offered to walk her back to her car, savoring their last few moments together.

“Are you sure I can’t give you a ride home?” Y/n asked as they got closer to her car in the now empty lot.

“Yeah, Doc, lm sure.” He smiled back at her, her smile and laugh being infectious. “I like walking. It gives me time to think. it’s peaceful. Kind of like today.”

Y/n’s smile widened at his confession. So her idea did work. He was making progress.

“ That’s what you deserve James peace. I can’t promise every day is gonna be like this.” She turned away approaching the driver side door. “I mean, it is life there are going to be some bad days. But you do deserve some peace. Some happiness.

She turned to see that he was a lot closer than she thought saying that he was preparing to open the door for her. She swallowed, suddenly feel in the air around them shift. As she ran her tongue over her lips, Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on the action.

“You just have to let yourself have it.” She said softly.

It was in that exact moment where James decided he was going to do just that; let himself have happiness. And without thinking, he leaned forward and connected his lips with her.

He pulled away almost as soon as it happened eyes wide.

“James…” y/n finger tips traced her lips as she stared at him.

“I am, i, I don’t know-“ Bucky stuttered.

He went to take a step back but was stopped. This time it was her who initiated the kiss.

What started off as gentle, turned into her fisting a handful of his shirt put him closer with his hands wrapped around her waist. The heat that washed over them both, was like a moth to a flame. The passion poured into the kiss from both ends quickly consuming them both. The two fighting for a dominance, it wasn’t until they both harshly pushed against her car setting the alarm off that they snapped out of it.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry wh-“ Y/n’s eyes were wide as she looked around anxiously.

Bucky could sense her panicking.

“y/n-“

“ I am so sorry. That was highly inappropriate of me-“

“Breathe for me doll-“ he reached for her but she pulled her hand away shaking her head vigorously.

“I can’t, we can’t, I have never.” She took a deep breath, her next words still coming out shaky. “I’m so sorry. To take a vantage of you like that-“

“I was the one who-“ he attempted once more to no avail.

“I have to go. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” She rushed out, flinging her door open and getting in the car.

All Bucky could do was watch as she wasted no time peeling out of the parking lot.

That was the last he had seen or heard of her. It had been almost two weeks and she had canceled both his weekly sessions and hadn’t answered any of his calls or returned any of the messages he left both at the office and on her cell phone.

And boy, was he stressed about it.

He had never felt that kind of passion before. To be honest it was something he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. He had been consumed by anger for so long, he wanted to cling onto whatever else, anything else. Bucky would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the chemistry between them. He came to the conclusion he’d been falling for her for a while, and was clearly in denial until that day they spent the day together. It’s not like he was trying to fall for his therapist. But now that he had...Ge had to at least try. Make sure what he was feeling wasn’t one sided.That spark. It was a feeling, a high he had never felt. One he knew he’d forever be chasing and he wanted it again and again and again. So when the third week approached he decided to take matters into his own hands.

A knock her door tore her away from Grey’s Anatomy.

“Coming!”

Pulling her dress down, she went and answered the door.

“Bucky.” She said his name breathlessly.

“Y/n.” He breathed out, happy to be in her presence even though it hurt slightly to hear her suddenly calling him Bucky.

He quite liked when she called him James. He liked the way she said his name.

“What are you-, how.” She tried to control her breathing. “You can’t be here.”

“I need you,” he signed. “To hear me out.”

“Bucky-“

“James.” He corrected her. “Look, I know this totally inappropriate but I-“

James paused taking in her appearance, noticing the purple bruising around her lower right eye above her cheekbone.

“Who?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

“Huh?”

He huffed pushing past her and moving in and around the apartment as if someone would come out and confess. He turned toward her a wild look in his eye.

“Give me. A name, Y/n.”

“James....” she signed.

While he knew she was talking seeing as her lips were moving, It was like he could hear her but he wasn’t hearing her. Bucky couldn’t focus on anything other than a bruise on the side of Y/n’s beautiful face. It had been along time since Bucky had thought of actually hurting somebody, save for John Walker last week which was another story entirely, whoever did this to her face though, he wanted to hurt them bad and he was going to enjoy it. His eyes traveled down toward her lips and he still couldn’t hear her. All he could hear was his fist repeated smashing into said individuals face. Over, and over, over-

“James!”

The sound of her voice finally resonated and he finally focused on her words.

“Come back to me James.” Her voice was gently. Inviting.

Everything he noticed both her hands on the side of his face, her thumb rubbing soothingly.

“It’s fine.” She said slowly removing her hands away as she explained. “There’s no need to hunt anyone down. Just a regular 50150 patient and things got out of hand. It happens.”

“No one should touch you.” He stated with seriousness.

Y/n stared at him for a moment, the right side of her lip pulled between her teeth, eyes pooling with something he hadn’t seen in her before. She shrugged nonchalantly.

“I kind of like it when you touch me.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper but he heard her loud and clear.

Just like before, it started off with light kisses, which soon turned into a bit of teasing, a little lip nipping, before things got extremely heated. Both his shirt had been discarded while the straps of her dress were pulled down revealing her black Savage Fenty bra. They had somehow moved from the living room to the kitchen island. Bucky stood between her legs one hand tangled in her braids while her hands held the sides of her face, gently caressing the stubble. Her legs were wrapped around his middles as she began grinding her hips into him. He pulled her closer, the both of them on a high from the friction. Bucky’s metal hand traveled up her bare back giving her goosebumps. They broke apart for air and as soon as Y/n had enough oxygen in her lungs, she went back to licking, kissing and sucking on his neck.

"Shit, Y/n.” Bucky unconsciously tilted his head back giving her better access, his hands palming her ass as his hips bucked into her.

"James." Y/n pulled back panting, lips swollen. " I want you. Now."

Bucky made quick work of removing her panties that coated in her juices , and in return y/n quickly unbuckled his pants using her feet to aid her in pushing them down.

“Shit.” He groaned immediately as she whimpered slightly at the feel of him sliding into her.

Her arms were wound around his neck while his hand gripped the top of her ass to keep her in place as he begin to slowly thrust in and out of her.

Bucky was on a high. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this level of intimacy. Euphoria. He was sure this feeling should be illegal.

The way she were wrapped around him, he knew if he didn’t take it semi slow he wasn’t going to last.

“James,” she moaned, clawing at his back, walls clenching.

He wasn’t sure what sounded sweeter; her moaning or his name leaving her lips.

“Doll?” He responded, kissing the at the base of her neck.

I’m clos-“ Y/n sucked in a breath of air. “Right there.”

“There?” He asked spreading her ass cheeks apart so he could go deeper.

“Yes! Right there!”

It was a bit sloppy from there as Bucky shifted for a better angle. Her ass halfway off the table as he picked up the pace bit her her closer to the edge. He was bouncing her up and down on his shaft effortlessly. Her arms wrapped right around his neck, kiss sloppy as she bit her lip to keep her moans at bay.

“No,” he breathed out, reaching up with one hand forcing her to kissing him, her moans filling his mouth instead. “I want to hear you.”

“James, I’m-“

“I know.”

The sight of Y/n coming undone before him was a glorious one . He couldn’t wait to make her cum again.

Once she came down from her orgasm, she placed her lips back on his, tightening her legs around him once more. He shifted their position a bit and begin again when suddenly the front door opened and in walked Sam.

“Oh shit!” Bucky pulled out of her and struggled to pull up his pants and turned to shield her half naked frame.

“Sam!” Y/n squealed pulling her dress up to her chest as best she could.

“What in the entire fuck!” Sam screamed while covering his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Y/n yelled.

“You told me toy were off!”

“I’m am off!”

“Well I thought I’d bring you dinner! I didn’t know id find this!” Sam said exasperatedly.

Y/n and Bucky were decent informing Sam he no longer had to cover his eyes. Immediately he pointed an accusatory finger at Bucky.

“You! What the fuck did I tell you about my sister?”

Bucky stared at him confused.

“You said not to flirt with your sister.” He repeated Sam’s words. “Sarah’s not..”

He then turned toward Y/n, things finally clicking.

“You’re Sam’s sister.” Bucky concluded.

“Baby sister.” Sam. added.

“I’m grown as hell Samuel!” Y/n fussed.

“Really bruh, my baby sister?!”

“Well how i suppose to know you only refer to her as baby!”

“Once again! I’m grown as fuck-“ she stopped hearing the front door creek open again.

“Who’s that?!” The woman’s eyes were wide with horror as she whispered.

“The boys!” Sam exclaimed in a whisper.

“Why didn’t you say they were here-“ she began frantically washing her hands.

“I’m sorry I was a little fuckin preoccupied with the fact my sister is fucking an assassin-

“Former assassin!” Bucky corrected.

“Hey TT!” Sarah’s boys greeted simultaneously with smiles as they bent the corner.

“Hey my babies!” Y/n instantly put a smile on her face pulling them each into her arms.

“Hey Bucky!” Cass waved

“Hey Bucky!” AJ addressed the solider as well before turning back toward his brother, “Cass , come on.”

“Wait let me put the pizza on the counter-“

“No!” The three adults exclaimed together.

“No boo, I’ll take it.” Y/n smiled again at her nephew taking the pizza.

“why don’t yall go in the living room and get the game set up?” Sam suggested.

“Yes! Let’s take the pizza in there while they bleach the kitchen?” Y/n hinted at the men while telling the kids to follow her.

“Oh yeah! TT, Uncle Sam got us two new video games!”,AJ informed her. “He also said we can watch a scary movie tonight since moms not here.

“Yeah! Andddd, he said we can door dash ice cream!” Cass added as the two kids followed their aunt into the living room.

Though he was silent, throughout the entire interaction but he couldn’t help but want you living room interact with the two kids. Back in the day, if you would’ve asked him if he believed in love at first site he would’ve said no. But he was pretty sure he was in love with Y/n already.

Once out of sight, Bucky took that opportunity to speak after a beat.

“Have I ever told you I’m glad you treat your nephew’s so well, Sam?” He asked after clearing his throat.

Sam sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Bucky turned to him with a huge grin on his face.

“Cuz I’m gonna give you another one.”

Slowly Sam began to laugh, albeit one full of sarcasm, Bucky joined in sincerely. They laughed together for a moment before Sam ceased, his face expressionless.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“I’m going to kill you.”