#Pattern of failures and why patterns matter

[horizonx101]

How to actually shift

Tldr- persist in the affirmations that you wake up in your dr every morning or thoughts that mean the same thing, no matter what the physical world is showing you and do not waver 🪐

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Shifting, believe it or not, is actually the most simple thing in the universe- you have been shifting for your entire life. What do I mean by that? Shifting isn’t some supernatural power that you have to be chosen by another force and then do 200 different methods or it won’t work. Shifting is the exact same as manifestation- when you manifest, you shift to a reality where you have that thing. When you shift, you manifest a certain reality that you have chosen. You shift whenever you assume something to be true in your reality. For example, you may assume that people dislike you- even if there is no evidence. As a result, you shift to a reality (or manifest a reality) where people dislike you. This is called Law of Assumption and you are doing this all the time whether you’re conscious of it or not. Think about your life, what has been a pattern for you? Have you been consistently unsuccessful in shifting? This is because you have a belief, a dominant assumption that shifting is difficult for you or that failure is normal to you.

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The subconscious

There are two parts of your mind- the conscious mind, the one that you are aware of, and the subconscious mind. The subconscious mind defines your 3D, using your conscious mind (daily thoughts) to know what to project into the physical world. Your subconscious has no senses, it can’t see, hear or feel anything, which is why it relies on your conscious mind to tell it what is true and what is false. Therefore, your subconscious mind cannot deny anything you are telling it- which is why you can manifest anything. If you have negative beliefs that you have persisted in for years, you can change this with repetition of favourable affirmations, for example ‘manifesting has always been easy for me’ or ‘I always shift instantly and it is completely normal for to get what I want’. Your mind doesn’t like change, it likes patterns which is where resistance comes from. Your mind has only ever known struggle in shifting, since that’s what you have been telling it consistently- therefore you will get doubts and opposing thoughts. However, you decide what it true because the physical world IS your dominant thoughts. As soon as you decide you have shifted, you have shifted, doubts cannot do anything unless you give them power and worry about them. Whenever you get opposing thoughts, persist through them. Affirm things like “What are you talking about? I literally woke up in my desired reality” and “No, shifting is easy, it the easiest thing in the world”- exaggerate your affirmations. Eventually, your brain will adapt to the pattern of shifting being simple and easy for you- which is what will then reflect into the 3D. This doesn’t need to take loads of time, just affirm ‘doubts don’t exist’ and repeat that thought to saturate your mind.

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The 3D and 4D

The 3D is your physical world, whereas the 4D is your thoughts and imagination. A key concept of Loa (law of assumption) is that your 4D, aka imagination, is your true reality. How? The 3D originates from your thoughts, it is simply a projection of your 4D. Therefore, the 4D must be your true reality. This is whatever you decide is true HAS to be true. A thought, when persisted in, HAS to reflect into the 3D, as that it the law. This is also why the 3D is completely irrelevant, circumstances do not matter whatsoever, because anything is possible. Anything you imagine is a possibility- what ever you DECIDE is true IS fact. Be stubborn in your affirmations- even if something is unfavourable happens, for example you don’t wake up in your desired reality, simple tell yourself that you woke up in your desired reality because shifting is easy. It has to reflect into your 3D eventually. And when I say eventually, I don’t mean that it has to take months or something- of course not! You control EVERYTHING which means that you either consciously or unconsciously decide how long it takes based on your beliefs. If you dominantly believe that shifting has to take years then it will take years because that is what you’re telling your subconscious. Assume that shifting is instant for you and persist in that affirmation. Things don’t have to take time!

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Doubts

Doubts don’t have to do anything or mean anything- you give everything meaning. Decide that ‘I dont get doubts’ and ‘negative thoughts don’t manifest’ and that’s what will happen. Do not panic and spiral when you get an opposing thought- they are completely normal. You can literally just laughs at the thought, take a second to look at it and just be like “lmao what? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought I’m in my dr rn” and the thought will carry so much less weight, it’ll simply pass by just like a random thought. Treat it like how you would treat your mind randomly saying ‘the grass is purple and I was born last year’- you wouldn’t even acknowledge it because it’s just not true. Remember, anything you decide is true IS true, so doubts cannot do anything as long as you don’t give them the power to do anything.

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I recommend Indigo Detry and Sammy Ingram on YouTube! They explain these concepts really well !!

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

what's keeping you away from genuine ways of expressing yourself?

this is a pick a pile tarot reading inspired by the new moon in leo, but is not specific to this particular moment in time. in astrology, the moon represents the unconscious mind, your emotions and in which ways your intuition works, while the zodiac sign leo is more oriented towards the ego, creativity and social relations. all of those things that tend to characterize this sign, usually means that some level of efficient and assertive communication is valuable for keeping away drama and misunderstandings, therefore, i thought about making this general reading to see what advice the cards have for something quite difficult for almost everyone: remaining true to our essence and being able to communicate that in a way that is genuine to us, our identity, our desires and our feelings, no matter who is listening.

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

images from pinterest and dividers by @fairytopea

��ঌ ✦ scroll down for the results ໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ Masterpost and Tarot Menu ❁༺ ˎˊ-

˚ ༘ ೀpile number one ⋆｡˚

Your card for this reading is the King of Swords. What this tells me is that you value intellectual honesty, and you’re willing to go against your own emotions if that means that you’ll find the truth and that you are very likely to be perceived as someone who doesn’t have a filter or is too honest. It’s key that you understand that even if you don’t allow yourself to be guided by emotional attachments, other people do. Being highly logical or highly sensitive are both valuable, and both ways of thinking and acting have their pros and cons. But this card wouldn’t pop up if the logical ways of approaching things wasn’t causing some issues. Although holding yourself to a high standard of rationality when it comes to manifestations of the unconscious or the way you naturally relate to others can be beneficial, I feel as if that is also causing you to react coldly to your own emotions, instead of embracing them. You need to let go of the idea that things must be coherent and make sense all time, we are humans, and many of what makes us human doesn’t make too much sense or doesn’t work according to logic. Seeking order, patterns and structure in places where there’s not a big need for those, is not going to give you the truths that serve your personal development. It’s key that you take some time to embrace what seems absurd about yourself, without looking for logic, but looking for experiences that will guide you to the answers you need.

˚ ༘ ೀpile number two ⋆｡˚

The card for you on this reading is the Six of Wands. What I see here, is a lot of well deserved feelings of pride that you are protecting at all costs. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being proud, and I don’t even think this is the actual issue here. What’s blocking your most honest expressions is the fact that you are not allowing yourself the possibility of making a mistake, as you might feel this could take away from all the achievements you’ve had before. It’s key to know, when to be vulnerable, when to take a risk and where you are safe to try things out for the first time, but you are still not comfortable enough to embrace things about yourself that make you insecure, which is completely valid and understandable. In your case, I think that is okay if you want to preserve a sense of control over how others perceive you, yet it wouldn’t be healthy to allow others to expect things from you that are far too demanding to keep up with sometimes. It is necessary that you start setting honest boundaries with others and with yourself, in order to preserve a healthy sense of worth. Your value as a person is not defined by your achievements, or your failures, it is defined by how and why you do what you do no matter the result. When your intentions are honest and you are trying to better yourself or help others, it doesn’t matter what the final outcome is.

˚ ༘ ೀpile number three ⋆｡˚

Your card is the Chariot. The meaning of this card has to do with life experiences, movement and some level of chaos that is necessary in order to grow. I see that you are capable to maintain a certain level of peace of mind even when things around you are hectic, and this is something that might attract some people who are either amazed or envious of this.  In your case, I think that being all over the place (socially, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally) means that you are not quite sure yet on where you stand in relation to certain aspects of your life. This might seem like a problem, because some people are more settled on their beliefs or have more stable lives than you, but in reality, the fact that you are willing to try everything you can before committing is actually something that makes your life something richer. It’s completely normal to feel uncertain, confused and lost, but this shouldn’t keep you away from giving yourself the credit you deserve for the way you have chosen to experience life. Take some pride on what makes you different, and take pride on the process of self exploration you are, even if you are far away from finding a solid philosophy or stability in your life, embrace the fact you are capable of experiencing things without many attachments.

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ Masterpost and Tarot Menu ❁༺ ˎˊ-

[geoviki]

Mo Guan Shan’s Big Feelings

Mo Guan Shan, resident tsundere of 19 Days, pretends to be tough and hard-hearted.  But he’s easily and frequently reduced to tears, as we soon realize.  In fact, he cries so often in the story that this post is pretty massive.

MGS cries as a child, of course.  He’s in a clinic in his mom’s arms when She Li first becomes obsessed with him (ch 294).

MGS has a bad dream about the day his dad told little Guan Shan he couldn’t come to the school’s robot fair (ch 392).

MGS cries in other dreams too.  Soon after meeting He Tian, he has a sensual dream of being comforted in He Tian’s arms after being bullied.  Look closely – there are little tears falling as He Tian assures him he’s the “most invincible badass.” (ch 250)

True to form, he cries in the Santa fantasy extra when his house is destroyed (ch 345).

MGS cries when he’s frustrated, like in this episode after the play when he can’t untie himself to pee (ch 359).

MGS is a weepy drunk as well.  After accidentally destroying Brother Qiu’s bike (ch 427), he drunkenly sobs in bed as he vows to somehow repay him. 

Later, while MGS is still drunk, He Tian slips and falls while carrying him, ripping Mo’s pants in front of He Cheng (ch 429).  MGS cries from embarrassment.

Unsurprisingly, MGS cries over his dad.  After He Tian unknowingly brings him to dinner at what is probably his father’s former restaurant, we see a young MGS in flashback crying in fear at the chaos around him.  Present-day MGS flees and He Tian finds him crying in the parking lot (ch 217)

One of the more moving chapters shows MGS breaking down as he visits his father in prison for the first time (ch 240).

MGS cries from sheer anger in several chapters.  The earliest is when He Tian forces an unwanted kiss on him as a misplayed joke (ch 174-175).  He Tian is taken aback by Mo’s strong, tearful reaction.  It’s probably the first time someone doesn’t try to placate He Tian when he’s being a jerk, and he begins to take MGS more seriously after this.

MGS tries to end his friendship with He Tian after the school play that indirectly causes him to lose his meager job.  He Tian doesn’t help matters by waving money at him as they quarrel.  MGS weeps with anger and says, “Standing with you makes me feel like a failure.”  (ch 364)

He cries in anger once more as he watches incredulously as She Li incinerates his backpack (ch 368).  (She Li seems to walk around carrying gasoline like it’s no big deal – what’s up with that?)

MGS cries when he’s worried.  When he digs frantically through the mudslide during their ill-fated mountain hike, he thinks He Tian has been buried alive.  When He Tian calls out, MGS throws his teary self into He Tian’s arms (ch 329).

MGS’s worry is clear when the last violent fight with She Li is finally over and He Tian has won (ch 408).  The battle was so fierce that by the end He Tian is crying too, and soon they’re embracing (I sense a pattern here!)

MGS often cries when his emotions overwhelm him.  Early on, after MGS is rescued from the fiasco of agreeing to take the blame for a serious crime, He Tian tells him, “Don’t try to shoulder everything yourself.” (ch 188).  MGS tears up at the thought that someone like He Tian has his back.

MGS ends up full-on sobbing in He Tian’s arms (again) when he finally admits why She Li has a hold over him: because of the homeless man who tried to kill him (ch 319).

In one of the most traumatic scenes (and a personal favorite), both guys shed a lot of tears when He Tian finds him after She Li has tortured and burned him (ch 369-370).  These chapters mark a turning point in their relationship from friends to more.

MGS is shown when he’s happy only once, and that memorable event will happen in their future: that Christmas night when He Tian returns and proposes with matching rings (ch 412).  Cue the waterworks!

Thanks to all of the translators who provide the English versions of the story!

[zoloteh-volossya]

Some Thoughts on Minthara

A repeating theme of all of the Origin companions is that what they think they want at the beginning of the game is a result of their fucked up pasts and is ultimately bad for them. Shadowheart wants to be a DJ, but that cuts her off from the potential to grow beyond Shar and loss. Lae'zel wants to Ascend, which would obliterate her in her entirety. Karlach would rather die than go back to hell, but dying cuts off the potential continued life she may find thanks to that Infernal Forge. Astarion wants to Ascend, which locks him into a cycle of violence, power, and fear. Gale has two failures of goals - first to kill himself for Mystra's forgiveness, then to Ascend (which hollows him out of all the originally noble intentions he had going into it). Wyll wants to serve, no matter what the cost to himself - which would lead him to stay pacted to Mizora when freedom beckons.

All of these initial goals stem from the environments/abuses that the companions are coming from. And they're all understandable! But they're unhealthy and/or maladaptive, and so in order for every Origin companion to get to their best/happiest ending they need to change and grow away from what they initially thought they wanted due to the influence of their pasts and personal flaws.

Minthara, when we meet her under her own free will, has abandoned Lolth but not her attitudes. She seeks love, yes, but also seeks any sort of power she can get her hands on with a desperation borne of fear. She cares deeply for Karlach and Lae'zel and reluctantly for Astarion, Shart, and Gale, but is willing to enslave them all as she herself was enslaved if it makes her Top Dog. Her ideal ending is codependent evil power couple with you, controlling the brain - and I think that's her 'bad' ending, akin to Ascended Astarion or DJ Shart.

Basically, I think there’s two sides to her. There's the side that desires genuine connections and is willing to go to hell for Karlach even if unromanced... and the side that chases power even if it means doing things like enslaving Karlach. She wants purpose (per her dialogue upon leaving Moonrise), a home and friends (per her dialogue when leaving the party), and protection (per her dialogues with the player). I think if she was able to obtain those things through sources other than trying to conquer Menzoberranzan/the Sword Coast she might be able to express the former side of herself more.

We see a bit of that in her Karlach romance, where she throws aside all concerns of seeking power to go to hell for her girlfriend. She doesn't talk of conquering or ruling Avernus - her focus is purely on vengeance for Karlach. It's an interesting reevaluation of her priorities and also why I like her pairing with Karlach so much.

As a side character, she doesn't get a questline and arc like the Origin companions get. But I think that it is notable that her happiest ending seems to be staying in Baldur's Gate. In her epilogue dialogue with Origin!Lae'zel she confesses that she is not happy if she pursues reconquering Menzoberranzan, and harbors doubts about her ability to succeed.

Because ultimately - as Ascended Astarion shows - pursuing power and conquest does not actually make you happier or safer. It just means a life dominated by fear. Lolth's treatment of the drow - and thus the drow treatment of each other - has been compared by writers of canon D&D novels to an abusive relationship. And like so many other survivors of abuse, Minthy is out of the immediate situation but still carries that way of thinking worn into her psyche, like ruts in a road.

She’ll never be “nice” or even necessarily “good,” but I’d like to think that over time, in the right environment, she can leave behind most of the self destructive power seeking of the Lolthite mindset. Move on from the toxic patterns of her past, as the Origin companions get to do in game.

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Masterpost

Husk

Design notes and headcanons under the cut

Husk always struck me as the type that should be more stocky and broad. And he should have a beer belly, since alcoholism is a significant character trait of his. He's a fat cat. He has a few grey streaks in his hair to hint at his age. His clothes are more tattered to represent both his loss of power and his deal with Alastor. And his colors are duller after he lost his overlord status.

Older versions of his character portrayed him as a magician, and I really liked the idea of him using his magician skills to cheat at cards, which is why he got into gambling.

Generally speaking, his canon design is too busy and I simplified it. I didn't really understand why he had wings. Thematically, there's no reason for it and they overcomplicate the design. Instead, I gave him a magician's cape to reference his magician background. His hands are white to resemble the gloves magicians wear. The shirt helps to separate his dark fur from his pants, so they don't blend together too much.

He has card suit symbols integrated into his design. I didn't think to add a shirtless version here(if I get around to it, I'll update this with one), but he does have a spade pattern on his chest. You can see the tip of it around his collar. His nose is shaped like a heart, his tail has a diamond shape, and the paw pads on his hands and feet are clubs.

Human-

He was born in 1907 and died in 1975 at age 68 from liver failure. It's popular for people to design him as black, but I headcanon him with either Slavic or Jewish Russian ancestry. He's lived in the US his whole life though. The chipped tooth sorta just happened and I liked it. It kind of resembles his demon form's cat teeth.

He became a magician and used his skills in sleight of hand to cheat at cards. He became involved with a gambling syndicate in Las Vegas. And he was a heavy drinker(hence his eventual liver failure).

Is he a war veteran? Lots of people headcanon Husk as a Vietnam War veteran. But I'm not sure that works very well. At least, not with my headcanons. The draft for Vietnam went on between 1964-1973. Husk would have been 57 in 1964, and the number of Baby Boomers meant the draft could make more exceptions than in previous wars. So Husk was not involved with Vietnam.

But the draft for WW2 required all men 18-64 to register between 1940 and 1946. There are a few nuances, such as the required ages being narrower at the beginning of that time, but they ultimately don't matter here. Husk was in his 30s through the entire draft period. So unless he had a reason to be exempted, or he dodged the draft, he was probably going. But Husk doesn't actually strike me as a shell shocked veteran. So I'm leaning toward him being a draft dodger.

Syndicat the Gambling Overlord-

While doing Mafia research for Angel Dust, I came across a mention of gambling syndicates in Las Vegas. I realized it fit Husk's background, and decided his name before Husk could be Syndicat. I thought the cheesiness of it wasn't out of place. So here we are.

His magician life led him to gaining magician(mostly cards) related powers. He gambled for souls and won his way to Overlord and ran a gambling syndicate. But he got cocky and others started to catch on. They did different types of gambling that didn't involve things he could easily cheat in. He started losing bets, and he was too proud and addicted to cut his losses. Plus, he was the Gambling Overlord, he couldn't stop gambling!

Eventually Alastor showed up and challenged him to Syndicat's specialty: poker. The offer was practically too good to be true. They were gambling all the souls they owned(their own souls were implied to be included). If Syndicat won, he'd have the collective power of Alastor's souls. If Alastor won, Syndicat would still be allowed to keep his existing power in exchange for servitude.

Alastor was a top tier Overlord, and owning the Radio Demon would surely catapult Syndicat to the top! He thought he had this in the bag. But Alastor has an inscrutable poker face, magic of his own, and his soul isn't even available to be put on the table. Syndicat predictably lost, and his overlord status was officially gone.

It hadn't really mattered either way. The whole thing was rigged. Alastor's soul was never going to be Syndicat's, and Alastor had clawed his way to Overlord in record time(He took less than a week to orient himself, killed his first overlord, and that was it). So even if he lost, it wouldn't take long for the Radio Demon to be back in full force. He could have just destroyed Syndicat and gotten everything back anyway.

The Husk:

Alastor dubbed him a husk of his former self and kept calling him either Husk or Husker. Husk felt too sorry for himself to care, and decided the name fit. (He doesn't hate "Husker" any more than he does "Husk". In the pilot, he was just annoyed at being magicked away from his poker game)

As far as Overlords go, Alastor wasn't actually all that bad to work for. Husk had actually been a crueler overlord to his underlings. For the most part, Alastor let him carry on as before. Husk gambles for cash and drowns himself with more booze than ever before, but he can't gain or lose power while Alastor owns him. Alastor could bother Husk at any given moment without warning and drag him to do whatever, but it would sometimes be months or years between his summons(seven years was significantly longer than normal, but Husk never thought much of it until after). Alastor is mostly just manipulative, confusing, and condescending. He didn't try to hurt Husk, and rarely even threatened to. Husk was still going to be grumpy about it though.

(update notes will go here if needed)

[nahoney22]

might i request f! jedi reader comforting tech after her death as a force ghost as he mourns her?

i saw the rule of 'no major character death' and im not sure if this falls under it, so if it does, sorry! love your stuff

Death Is Just A Word*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Jedi!FemaleReader

word count: 1.4k

prompts: none

When everything gets too much for Tech, he finds himself entering a forest to relive his stress and emotions. He just didn’t know that his fallen Jedi will be there to meet him.

Warnings: death warning, heavy angst, comfort, reader is a Jedi who has died via sacrifice, mourning, can be a platonic or romantic relationship, Tech fears failure and is emotional, can also be read as gender neutral.

The Marauder was a mess of tension. Failed mission after failed mission, constant arguments over strategy, and a void in the team’s dynamic that no one could ignore. Every time they fell short, Tech felt the sting deeper than he ever let on. The others thought his frustrations were just his usual pursuit of perfection. They didn’t realise it was the gnawing guilt beneath the surface; a guilt that whispered it was his fault you were gone.

You had sacrificed yourself for them a month ago, throwing yourself into the path of certain death to save them all, especially him. Tech had replayed that moment a thousand times. Each calculation, every step, and the single flaw in his plan that led to your choice. No matter how much he tried to logically categorise his grief, he couldn’t find a solution that brought him any peace.

Now, every corner of the Marauder reminded him of your absence. Your datapad still lay in the corner of the cockpit, untouched since that day. No one had dared to move it. It was absurd, really. Tech wasn’t one to let sentimentality interfere with logic, but there it was: an irrational need to leave your things as they were, as if by doing so, he could somehow preserve a piece of you.

One night, it all became too much. After yet another mission gone wrong, with tempers flaring and his mind buzzing with thoughts he couldn’t stop, Tech couldn’t stay aboard the ship. The tightening in his chest, the erratic pounding of his heart—these feelings were new and unnerving. He was usually so controlled, his emotions filed away in neatly ordered compartments, but now they were spilling over in ways he couldn’t manage.

“I need a break,” he muttered, barely audible to the others. He didn’t wait for a response before heading down the ramp and disappearing into the darkness of the nearby forest.

The cool night air felt suffocating as he stumbled deeper into the woods, branches snagging at and clawing at his battered armour. Tech’s mind raced familiar patterns of calculations and probabilities that were now distorted by flashes of grief, anger, and regret. His breath hitched, the sharp ache in his chest refusing to go away. The weight of it drove him to his knees, collapsing against a tree as he buried his face in his hands.

“Why can’t I just… process this?” he whispered to himself, voice trembling with frustration. He was supposed to be the logical one, the one who could solve anything. But how could he solve the emptiness left by someone who wasn’t supposed to be gone?

The forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind. And then, something else.

“Tech.”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice. No, it wasn’t possible. He was hallucinating, his mind frayed by exhaustion and grief. But then he heard it again, softer, more familiar.

“Tech, darling. Look at me.”

Tentatively, he lifted his gaze. There, just a few steps away, was your figure, glowing faintly in the moonlight. You looked as you always had—serene, your eyes filled with the quiet understanding that had once brought him comfort. But there was something ethereal, otherworldly about you now, your form shimmering like mist.

He blinked hard, certain he was imagining things. “This this is not real,” he muttered, his voice laced with desperation. “You can not be here.”

“Maybe not in the way you’re used to,” you replied, that familiar teasing lilt in your tone as you fold your arms over your chest. “But I’m still here.”

Tech took a step closer, bewildered. “I was under the impression that only Force-sensitive beings could perceive Force ghosts.”

You simply smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

He stared at you, his mind racing even more, trying to find the answer that fit the parameters of what he understood. But there was no logical explanation, no way to rationalise why he, a mere ‘defective’ Clone, could see you. He was about to press further when the weight of his unresolved emotions crashed over him again, overriding his curiosity.

The confusion morphed into anger as he shook his head. “You sacrificed yourself. You… you did not have to do that. You could have stayed. I would have found another way.” His voice cracked on the last words, frustration and grief intertwining in his chest.

You laughed softly, the sound light despite the tension in the air. “Oh, you’re upset with me? That’s rich. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?” He stared at you incredulously, his logical mind struggling to keep up with the emotions crashing over him as you teased him. “Do you think I wanted you to throw your life away? We needed you—I needed you!”

Your gaze softened, and you took a step closer, though the distance between you still felt insurmountable. “I made my choice because I care about you all. Because I care about you. It’s what a Jedi does. I am to protect those I care about, even if it means sacrificing something precious.”

Tech clenched his fists, struggling with the reality of seeing you again, with the overwhelming mixture of relief, anger, and loss. “I really miss you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I keep trying to carry on like I always do, but nothing feels right without you. I can not focus. I can not summarise reasons as to why the missions have been failing. I can’t-.”

“Not everything can be calculated, Tech. Sometimes, you have to trust what you feel.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his chest, over his heart. “I’m still here, Tech. Not in the way you want, I know. But as long as you carry me with you, I’ll always be a part of you.” Your gaze was steady as you met his eyes. “It’s okay to miss me. It’s okay to grieve. But don’t forget that I believed in you—just as you are. You don’t have to solve everything.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and for once, he didn’t hide it. “You always had a way of getting under my skin, making me feel things I didn’t think I could,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never got the chance to tell you what you meant to me.”

Your smile turned wistful. “I already knew, Tech. I always knew.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze turning pleading. “I know it is no longer physically possible, but I wish I could hug you. I never got to when you were alive.”

The pain in your eyes mirrored his as you shook your head slowly. “I wish you could, too. But I’m afraid you won’t be able to feel me.” You looked down at your hand, as if willing it to bridge the gap between you. “This is as close as we can get now.”

Tech’s shoulders sagged with the weight of that truth. He wanted so badly to reach out, to feel the warmth of your presence again, but all he could do was hold onto the memory. “I don’t know how to do this without you,” he admitted, his voice subtly breaking.

“You’re stronger than you think,” you said softly. “Trust in yourself, just like I trusted you all these years. And when it feels too heavy, remember that I’m still right here, where it matters most.” Your hand, still hovering near his chest, flickered slightly, as if you were fading.

He nodded slowly, unable to find the words as he watched your form begin to dim. “I will try.”

Your figure shimmered in the moonlight, a final, lingering smile gracing your lips. “Goodbye, Tech. Until we meet again.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving him alone in the darkness of the forest, the echoes of your words lingering in the stillness. But for the first time in weeks, the silence wasn’t as unbearable. There was a small comfort in knowing that you were still with him, in some way, in the space that mattered most.

As he stood there under the canopy of stars, Tech wiped away the tear that had escaped, a quiet resolve settling in his chest. He wasn’t alone. You had made sure of that, even in death.

And somehow, he found the strength to take a deep breath and walk back toward the Marauder, where the others were waiting. For the first time since losing you, he allowed himself to believe that he can move forward.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets s @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @the-bad-batch-baroness @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez @green-alm0nd

[ultralightpoe]

Venomous- Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Gahhhhhh, enjoy. Part 2 soon

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, mentions of murder.

Word Count: 7566

Requests: OPEN! [This work is a request]

[Thank you for the gif @another-nerdy-blog ]

Enjoy!

Inland Taipan 

Scientific Name: Oxyuranus microlepidotus

- 

“Despair is the price one pays when they set an impossible aim.” Dreykov murmurs, his voice sending a chill down your spy as he circles you slowly. His footsteps fall into a pattern your brain can’t help but follow, a constant thud like a war drum. 

And though he claimed to be checking you for your next mission you couldn’t help but feel as though he was circling you like a predator would it’s prey. 

‘He needed you’, you tried to remind yourself, doing your best to ease yourself and hide the fear from him. Because the truth was he didn’t need you. You might be his top assassin in this moment but you were easily replaceable. 

Natasha herself had warned you before she escaped. 

“We are nothing but weapons here.” She had whispered to you one night, huddled together to keep warmth on the mission, arms wound tightly around each other. Your sister in arms, your sister in life since you didn’t know your own family. 

You had known she wanted out, you wanted the same thing, and though you weren’t mad she had made it out you were upset that she had done it without you. 

Countless times dreaming of a life beyond all of this. 

Lies. 

“Do you understand what this means, pretty girl?” Dreykov asks, pulling your attention away from your memories back to where he know stood behind you, staring at him through the reflection of the mirror while you shake your head. 

You were nervous he had caught you, that he knew you had hacked into his system three days ago to find your birth name, and so when you had been ordered down you were sure he was going to kill you. 

But instead he had you prep for an upcoming mission. 

“It means not to set yourself up for failure. You know your skill, and you know your limitations. You are my top weapon.” He explains, not breaking eye contact as you bite back your tongue to make a snide comment. “The mission I am about to send you on is long and I trust no one but you.”

“Thank you.” You mutter, nodding your head. 

“I’d like to introduce you to the key of this mission, a vital part.” The door opens a couple feet away, and a strong figure was soon led into the room, the second you spot him your entire body tightens in discomfort. 

Right, Natalia Romanov was gone and you had taken her place. Which meant you would now do duo missions with the Winter Soldier himself. 

And you knew the moment your eyes traced over his body that he would ruin everything. By the way his eyes traced over your own before his fists tightened you knew he was thinking the same about you. 

- 

Dr. Aquinos always had a noticeable look of pity that, no matter how many times you saw it, always set your stomach twisting in a mix of anger and embarrassment. But you were sure if you were to bring this up she would simply tell you that you were over reading, trying to find an excuse not to trust her. 

‘By the sounds of it you weren’t always this distrusting, why don’t we try to go back and think about when that began to change’. Blah blah blah. 

The clock on the wall was the only sound that could be heard in the room, with you sitting completely still in an effort to wait out this hour until you could leave, and her across from you sitting patiently with her classic notepad and pen. She often twirled it between her fingers when she was getting impatient, and you tried not to smirk at the sight of her doing it now. 

“I thought we had moved past this waiting game routine.”

“I thought you were over that sweater,” You huff, shrugging your shoulder a bit and giving her an empty glare, only to find that she narrows her eyes. Like a lion reading the challenge. 

“You look sick.” There it is again, that damn pity that made you want to scratch out her eyes, and maybe your own. You always hated her pity, or maybe you hated the ‘serene’ paintings around the room or the happy family photo that proudly hung from the wall next to the office door. The same photo that always dug a hole in your chest whenever you spotted it. 

It was a reminder and a slap in the face at the same time. Dr. Aquinos kids will never know that pain or suffering which isn’t their fault and yet you couldn’t stop the resentment that filled you whenever you saw that damn photo. The smile that reminded you of so many… so many children that deserved better. 

You hated this office, and yet you found yourself here once a damn week. 

“I believe the term you are looking for is sickening.” You flash her a wide smile, crossing your legs to seem more confident in this moment, trying not to seem like that movement alone caused you pain. 

“I mean sick.” She states, her tone still holding that fucking pity. “Was it a long night for you?”

Yes. It had been an extremely long night for you. The first half of the night had been spent on top of a roof in the freezing cold for surveillance, only the target had shown up 40 minutes later than he normally did which meant you had an extra 40 minutes of the winter air making you shiver and tightening your bones. Which made the hip injury you tried to avoid all the worse, hard to move around. 

By the time you managed to limp your way home, scarfing down  the small rations of food into your mouth before shoving a pain pill down and diving into the cot you kept in the closet for safety. 

You had gotten maybe an hour worth of sleep before the terrors dragged you awake in a pool of your own sweat, panic clinging to your every move. 

Your hip still hurt, the throbbing beginning to work it’s way into your spine, but you had a performance to play here. “Not really, I slept through the night and woke up in my soft warm bed.”

“You’re not still sleeping on the military cot in the closet then?”

“No,” You lie, enjoying the way it slips past your lips without a notch. “I’ve got a queen size bed now.”

Yet another lie, your apartment held a duffel bag of your mission gear and suit. One dresser of normal clothes, the cot in the closet. That was all you needed. 

And it’s pathetic, the way you once dreamed of this for so long just to be living this miserable existence. 

“It’s common to miss it, you know, there is no shame in that. It’s the pain and the change, you feel like you have nothing right now but I can assure you that’s not true.” She mumbles softly, and you hate the way she can read you that easily. 

It was true, you missed the red room. You missed your sisters and you missed the routine. You never needed to be someone in the rooms, out here in the world? A new story completely. 

You were nothing, no one. 

All you had was a name and even that didn’t seem like it belonged to you. 

“Why don’t we keep expanding on your years in the rooms….” She switches the conversation, knowing you both had hit a dead end, choosing a new route. “You told me a little about it before and I noticed that most widows have specialty names built off of that name itself. But you didn’t, can you explain why you were named….the ‘viper’ was it?”

“Yes.” Ironically the way you bite this out makes the ending sound like your very own hiss, all you needed now was a rattle and black eyes. 

“Can you explain to me how you got that name?”

“Because of…. Him.” Even referencing him left a sore spot in your chest, sweat beading the back of your neck. 

“Ah, Bucky Barnes.” She hums, and you hated that people called him that. You hated that he got his name and his recovery. He was the Soldat, he would never change and of course people were falling for his trap. 

You had long ago. 

“The SOLDAT gave me the name on our mission.” You sneer, “What time is it?”

The clock had stuck, you were sure of it. And when she reached to check the time on her watch you caught sight of her notes with the words HEALTH RISK circled and underlined, her family photo once again making you a bit nauseous as she hums out and nods to the door to let you know the time was up. 

“I look forward to our next session.”

“I don’t.” It was the truth, and you enjoyed the fact that you could speak the truth with her even if she got a little too close. “But I wish you a good week, I hope your family is okay.”

The smile that spreads across her face as you leave makes you angry, but not at her, at yourself. 

She was right, you were a health risk. To yourself and to others, but that wouldn’t matter soon, the second you completed your final task you wouldn’t have to worry anymore. 

The list of names you had made for yourself, your last mission on this miserable life would be to take out the people that hurt you. 23 names total, and at the very end of the list in the neatest handwriting you could muster was ‘The Soldat’. 

You would leave this earth, but he would leave it first. 

- 

Alternative name/s:

Fierce Snake, Small-scaled Snake, Lignum Snake 

-

It was easy to ignore the widow,  she liked to keep to herself in the corner of the small safe house they were keeping in on the first part of the mission. 

A list of names, 118 total, that Hydra and the Red Room needed gone as soon as possible. Risks that needed to be handled. And the Soldat was used to doing missions on his own but they paired him with the Widow to help. 

And at first he was sure she would be trouble, but he was proven to be wrong since the Widow seemed just as sure as him that she didn’t want to be near him. 

Right now she sat in the corner, crisscrossing, taking time to clean all her knives with the polishing kit that most of the Hydra safe houses had to keep their gear clean. Her hands worked seamlessly, making sure that the knife shown under the light, and he couldn’t seem to look at anything else but her. 

Maybe the Soldat was annoyed that she had used the polishing kit before he could. Maybe he just liked seeing that someone else had the same routine he did on these missions. Or maybe he was interested in the vials sitting beside her. 

As if she could read his thoughts she reached for one, keeping the knives before her on the ground as she twisted the cap to the vial and moved to pour the liquid over each weapon before taking what was left and he was confused by the fact that she was putting on her suit.

He looked closer, realizing that there were vials hidden within her sleeve. He wanted to know what they were for until she looked up to give him a knowing smile, teeth flashing in a way that pissed him off. 

He turned away again, so she can go back to doing her hair and looking at her reflection. 

But it all made sense the night of the first hunt. She had started at the other end of the house and planned to make their way through to find their target, and by the time he did find her she already had the target within her clutch. 

His arm twisted within her legs to keep him in place with one hand pushing his head so his neck was exposed while her other wrist snaps to reveal two puncture points at the knuckles of her suit made to look like fangs. Only a flash of those before they reach his neck. 

She removes herself immediately and he rushes to get the target, worried that he would fight back and wondering what would make the widow so stupid to let him go before he realizes that the Target wasn’t moving at all. Instead he seems paralyzed as he died slowly. 

When he whirls back to the Widow she is once again facing a mirror, fixing her hair and lipstick before turning to him with a smile that twisted his chest. “Are there any more loose ends?” 

The russian falls off his tongue with ease and she narrows her eyes at him to tilt her head. 

“Tous les détails sont pris en charge,” [All the loose ends are taken care of.] She shrugs, twirling her hair before spinning on her toes and swaying her hips to walk away. His brain racks for a moment, never great at French which she had realized on the first day, and followed the brat down the hall. 

He risks a look down the hall where Marvin Montys child slept and spots the blood splatter on the wall, before following her. 

At least the widow could do her job. 

- 

“You’re making a lot of progress, Bucky.” Dr. Raynor hums out, nodding her head as she watches him from her regular spot. She hasn’t scribbled on her notepad in the past 30 minutes of their hour-long session, and he hopes that’s a good sign. “But I’d like to dive a bit deeper for a moment, cut to the harsh point if you don’t mind.”

“Not like I have a choice here Doc.” He mutters, but his tone lacks the usual bite. 

“Funny,” She smirks for a second before sitting up a bit. “There’s a patch of memories that you said helped you break from the Soldier with Steve. Made it easier, your own words.” 

“There was. About a month before I was sent out to get Steve….. I had just gotten back from another mission.”

“The one with the ‘Viper’ is that correct?”

He has to clear his throat in attempt to fight off the tightness, feeling his chest constrict in pain as he nods. 

“It was a long mission. I hadn’t been away from the chair for that long before and she managed to break through every crack formed. Or at least we thought she did.”

“Have you tried to find her? Since you have come back?” 

“I started trying to find her the second Steve found me.” He explains, thinking back to when he first started tracking her down. But there was nothing, even going through all the programs he could within the Red Rooms files, he couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere after him. 

He was terrified, because if he couldn’t find a single trace of you that might have meant you were gone and he didn’t think he could survive in a world that he knew didn’t have you in it. 

But then Natasha freed the Red Room while he was ‘snapped’ and the world he came back to was a world with the Widows and all their secrets revealed. And that’s when he found Yelena….. Well Yelena had found him. 

She had been suffering from the loss of her sister, and had taken to finding all the widows herself to make sure they were fine. She was the one person in this world that had the information he needed. 

Sam, the new captain america, had poured over the intel with him. Your intel, the trail to find you. 

“You sound as if you have.”

“Not yet, but I’m close.” He nods. “I have this feeling in my chest, that I’m almost there. That I’ve almost got her. And I can give her what she’s always wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

“A candle that smells like orchids by a front door where you can hang your keys. A door mat decorated to invite kids to trick or treat on Halloween. Curtains that catch the light in the morning.” None of the things he mentioned were his dreams, not until she had mentioned them. 

“I hope you get those things.” He does too. And he was close, matter fact he only had 3 more days before Sam and himself went to find you. 

- 

The inland taipan's venom is the most potent of any snake in the world. A single bite contains enough venom to kill around 100 adult humans. The venom is a cocktail of enzymes that paralyze nerve endings, destroy muscle tissue, and cause severe bleeding

- 

A month with the Soldat had been easy keeping to yourself, 2 months had shown you so much more. 

The first being he was extremely grumpy in the mornings, no matter what. Even before you both had begun getting along you had noticed that he hated them. Every move he made was tight, He would rip open the ration packets and stomp his feet just about anywhere. He would do weapons checks so that all you would hear were the clicks and twists of his gun and the metal hand grabbing everything. 

Then he would do bed checks, coming over to the cot you had claimed as your own to throw you off it and search through your stuff. 

Month three, 3 targets in, you had completely learned his morning routine. And since you had been on watch last night you got the gift of seeing it in real time. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning in his sleep and mumbling something about a Steve he sat up right at 5am, launching himself out of his cot and taking in his surroundings. He glared at you, which made you smirk as he passed to head to the bathroom. He stretched in there, too proud to admit that even the Soldat needed to loosen his muscles. You heard the water run telling you he was right on schedule with cleaning himself up and you took the chance to rest your head on the small pillow to close your eyes before he stomps back. 

You know he is reaching for the ration packets without even opening your eyes, and you know he uses his teeth to tear it open in hopes to release some of the tension he had built up. You know he is already snatching your own ration packet to prepare it, moving to start the kettle and prepare the bowls. 

You have another 15 minutes of him checking his weapons, hearing him grunt with every weapon cleaned and polished before making sure they were all strapped into their holsters. The kettle starts ringing and he has the habit of rushing to grab it before it bothered you, and you always thought it was the most human thing to do, like a glimpse into who he would have been if he hadn’t become this monster. 

The smell of cream of wheat fills the air, and you hear his steps come to your cot, right on time. 

In the beginning he used to snatch you up to fling you, now he merely reached out a hand to guide you up without an ounce of aggression before he searched through your stuff. And normally you would go grab the rationed breakfast and get ready but today you chose to head to his own cot, sliding into it. 

You were just tired, and you really didn’t care as he turned to glare at you while you curled up, pretending that you weren’t basking in the smell of the leather and soap he wore, pressing your face into the cloth of the cot. A small ounce of fear fills you when he marches forward, only for him to pull the blanket up and cover your shoulders. 

And the warmth fills your body, black filling your vision as you fall asleep once more, this time in the Soldats bed. 

You wake a little later, eyes snapping around the room to check everything, finding the Soldat sitting over his tech to watch your next target. He snaps his head to you the second you sit up, eyes tracing over you before nodding in contempt and turning back to the task at hand. 

When you stand from the cot to grab your gear you are shocked to find that he had already prepared it for you. 

Not only had the Soldat let you sleep, but he had helped you prepare. 

And that small tug in your chest is a weakness, you know it, but that doesn’t stop you from turning to watch him work. 

If he wasn’t in this life you were sure he would have been a good man. 

You felt bad lying to him,  but you had to because good man or not he was a soldier first. And a good soldier would take you out for your weakness, a good soldier would kill you for what you were doing. 

- 

The worst part of waking up was the fact that you couldn’t escape the dreams and memories even with your eyes open. Most think that it’s over once you wake, but for you? Never. Every move is haunted by the past, every breath another painful punishment, and everywhere you look is just another reminder. There was nowhere you could escape. 

So when you manage to pull yourself from the nightmare, sitting up with your clothes drenched in a cold sweat, the darkness of the closet surrounding you like a blanket of protection. 

You’re not there….You remind yourself. If it’s dark then they are leaving you alone. 

And when you sit up, pain shoots through your hip at every single move, letting yourself out of the closet you begin your routine. 

3 am, a slight shower. Not long in fear you would be caught and in part you didn’t want to run too much water. Brush teeth, dress in suit. 

3:15, limp to the kitchen and start boiling water before you reach into your duffel to grab the pain pills you kept hidden away. The prescription written in your name feels wrong, like aren’t actually yours, like you are living the life of a stranger. But you remind yourself it doesn’t matter anyways as you shove it in your mouth, going back to scarf the cream of wheat down and then you head out for an intel session. 

You never take the door, instead you snatch your duffel and remove a little of the newspaper to slide out and climb down the fire escape. 

You take back roads, your static sounder messing up any footage of yourself the cameras might have caught. And soon enough you were prepping yourself to watch your target, venom sitting in the wrists of your suit, a little bit of that past routine giving you something to focus on. 

20 more names on the list until you would go after the Soldat, 21 more names total. 21 names until you are finished with it all. 

All you had to do was wait for the perfect time to kill this one. 

- 

The bite of the Inland Taipan with envenomation can be rapidly fatal, it can take as early as 30 minutes

- 

The Widow had worn on the Soldat, a shame to admit. 

A routine had built where it shouldn't have and now instead of working around each other they worked with each other. They made the rations together, ate together, cleaned their weapons and reloaded them together. 

When he would sit to watch the intel she began coming to sit with him, if not to watch it herself she would lean her head against him and find something to busy herself with while he worked. 

But the biggest change was the banter. 

Gone were the days of him grunting and glaring, she would refuse that now. Instead they found themselves going back and forth, but it was never serious, mostly teasing. 

She would speak in French to piss him off because she knew the Soldat struggled to keep up with it. He would come out of the shower and lean over where she slept to make the water drip down on her while she tried to sleep. She would trip him as he tried to get dressed and he would pull out strands of hair while she did it. 

Back and forth, push and pull. 

Today, when they were planning to start the intel stage on the next target it had turned out to be a downpour of rain, and normally he would go anyway. And yet, when you went to grab your suit he reached out his flesh hand to stop you, pulling you to sit back down. 

“Today, we rest.” He orders, watching your eyes narrow at the russian before you nod and stand, keeping ahold of his hand as you head to where you both keep the stash of rations. 

This safe house was freezing, and it made him miss the last one, not to mention this safe house only held one cot. The best part about this safe house? 

It had amazing rationing food. 

So when you shook the pack to heat it up he made sure to stay close and start the kettle. Keeping so close that he could always feel your arm against him. 

And once the rations were ready you both huddled together against the counters for cover so you could let your walls down a bit, sitting side by side. You shared your beef and potatoes, he shared his spaghetti, eating out of the portion packs and drinking the tea. But his favorite part about this new routine was when the conversation turned to dreams. 

“If I wasn’t in this program……” You hum, and he can’t help but watch your every movement, the way you lick your hips and scratch your forehead in contemplation. “I would have a big house.” 

He huffs out a laugh, shoving the last of his food in mouth as you shrug. “Yes, a big house. And…… and I would have a candle that smells like orchids so whenever people enter they think it smells nice….. And maybe a rug outside the door so they can see it when the kids trick or treat.”

He can’t help the smile that forms from listening about your dream, grabbing your trash to throw away before cleaning out the mugs you both used. 

“Oh! I’d have kids. At least 7!” You continue, following him before shuffling to tech case to find your camera set up. He knows you’re going to triple check that everything is working to busy yourself, something you often did whenever you brought up the idea of kids. 

Widows couldn’t have kids, this he knew. They all received the procedure. To stop periods, to keep their bodies from transforming too much and too prevent pregnancies whenever Dreykov sent them on seduction missions. And before the Soldat had met you none of that had really mattered to him. 

But now, the thought of you being used like that, it made him furious. And he tried to figure out ways to prevent it, ways to stay attached to you as a mission partner forever. 

But that would never happen, they would never allow that. So he tries not to think about it, instead he moves forward to pull you away from the tech, pulling you to the cot so you both can lay down, pulling the blanket up and wrapping you in his arms. 

“Goodnight,” You whisper in french, and pinches your arm to make you laugh before letting himself fall asleep. \

- 

Bucky had the defense of saying that they had tried knocking first, and that was a lame defense at that. But he thought about his arguments as he picked the lock with ease, pushing the door open and letting Sam take the lead. 

At the last second his flesh hand grabs at the Captain America suit, pulling his friend back to warn him. “A quick heads up, she doesn’t fight like the others.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“No, don’t let her wrap her legs around you and don’t let her knives come into contact, small slash or not they are all laced in venom. And above all avoid getting punctured by any of her weapons.” He explains. 

“I thought we were going in to reason with her.”

“We are.” Bucky sighs, his chest constricting in pain. “She’s just a little lost. We’ve all been there.”

The need for revenge was strong. He had been there himself, Yelena had been there. Many widows have been there. And you were currently handling that yourself, handling all the trauma yourself. And that thought hurt him. 

Sam had agreed to help, to come with him and find you, talk you down from this path Captain America style. 

So they stood together as they pushed the door in, searching every inch of the apartment for you until they realized you weren’t here. So instead they looked around for where you might be. 

“I thought all the Hydra Safe Houses had been torn apart.” Sam mutters, admiring the work you did on the windows, newspaper covering nearly every inch while Bucky moves to the closet where he had seen the bed in their search for you. 

He could imagine you nestled up in the cot, surrounded in the dark. The way you used to pull the covers completely over your head to hide from the sun and use your feet to pull the blanket in so you were fully cocooned. 

But this….. None of this was you. Countless times talking about your dreams and this was the outcome? You deserved better. 

“Everything you told me about her just doesn’t seem right here.” Sam mutters once more moving to the kitchens and digging through the cabinets. “Military rations and tea. That’s all.”

“She was so full of life, used to dream of her freedom. She needs help.” Bucky snaps, anger beginning to course through him as he heads to the kitchen. One of your biggest things when you were paired was hiding the tech when you left so no one would have access. 

Your favorite spot was always the bottom left cabinet and sure enough it all sat there. 

“Brilliant.” Sam smiles, leaning over the laptop as Bucky hacks his way in to see what you have been watching. It takes a moment for the footage to load, and once it does he finds video footage of a man walking around his apartment in a towel. 

“Live feed.” Bucky mumbles. 

“That’s Eaiton,” Sam sighs, leaning forward as the man walks down a hall and heads into what looks to be a master bedroom. The footage follows the movement and when the feed changes to another camera you had hidden Sam whistles. “And that is NOT Eaitons wife.”

“Course not.” Bucky chuckles, pulling out his phone to enter in the address on the intel. “What do you know about him?”

“Nothing much. Was on Congress, just got removed but they didn’t announce it. Kept the whole thing hush hush. Last I talked to Yelena she was looking into his name, it’s why I recognized him so quickly.”

“The address isn’t far off, if we take the back roads we can avoid traffic.” Bucky explains, beginning to lead the way out of the apartment while already dialing on his phone. It rings and rings and rings.  Once the call fails he tries again and again and again. 

Finally it’s picked up, a brash voice filling his ears, out of breath. “Who the fuck keeps calling?!”

“Jared Eaiton, I’m calling to inform you that your life is in danger. I advise you to not hang up.” Bucky starts, watching Sams wings expand so he can take off as he straddles his bike. “I need you to do a couple things for me, starting with having you and the women you are with get dressed as normally as possible. I need you to act natural.”

“Why? For what?”

“Sir, there is a Widow somewhere near your apartment,” He explains, though part of him wants to let you get your revenge he knew you were better than this. You were more than a widow. “Step two, are you ready?”

- 

Inland taipans are generally calm and reclusive, preferring to escape from trouble. However, they will defend themselves and strike if provoked, mishandled, or prevented from escaping

- 

The Soldat moved easily with you, striding side by side as you prepared to take out the target. And normally you loved his proximity, but today it did nothing but give you anxiety. 

Something he seemed to be picking up on. 

Before you could split from him to follow the plan he grabs your elbow slowly, making sure to not trigger the fang puncture on your wrist, pulling you close to press his forehead against yours. “I don’t like this plan.”

“It’s a plan we have done many times.” You try to laugh, giving him your best pretty smile to push him off the track. It only makes it worse. 

“There is something wrong with you today.” He grunts out, keeping you close. “I don’t want to separate.”

“We do this, this is the plan.” You huff, “Don’t stress grumpy man.” 

You lean up on your toes to kiss his cheek, watching his eyes narrow at you a little more, but you smile like nothing is wrong once more. Leaving his arms and heading off. 

You didn’t have time, he had been a little grumpy this morning which meant he will work faster on the mission, and you had two kids to smuggle out before he caught you. 

You had made sure to take the side closest to their room for this mission, climbing up to the second story window and sliding in like a shadow. It takes 5 steps until you are in their room, and your heart expands the second you see them. 

They slept so soundly, looking so peaceful that you knew you were a villain just for having to wake them up. But you do, keeping a hand over their mouths to keep them calm as you order them in english. 

“I need you to listen.” You order, as they both try to move away. “Follow me. Now.” 

The boy jumps to do so, the girl however holds her ground until you get on her level. “Listen to me, you and your brother are in danger here. And unless you want him to be hurt you will follow me.”

And so they do. 

You work quickly, breaking a vase as you pass, spraying a bottle of fake blood to make it look like splatter before you have them hold onto you as you crawl out the same way you entered. 

The Agent you worked with most the time was already standing in the streetlight waiting for you to deliver them. “Go with him, he will keep you safe.”

The boy, once again, does not wait to run and you’re sure he is still half asleep. The girl keeps a firm clutch on your hand, forcing you to kneel as a loud bang sounds out, letting you know the Soldat is nearly done. 

“I need you to go.” You whisper, pushing some of the hair from her face and tracing her cheek with your fingers. “He’ll take care of you ….. I promise.”

She nods, crying, but runs off. 

And you don’t have time, but you watch anyways. The way the agent scoops them up and hugs them close, both their arms wrapped tightly around him. You envy it, and you hate it all in the same go. 

They will never see their parents again, they will never know the safety of their home. After today they are ruined. 

But you could at least make sure they get into the car safely before heading back, out of breath with tears falling down your face. 

You’re so panicked about time that you slip on your way in, slipping in the fake blood and slamming into the broken glass of the vase right as the Soldat comes around the corner in a fury. 

You panic, the rage written on his face makes you think he knows. He must know. This was the end and he would go back and find the kids, This will all be ruined. 

But the second he kneels in front of you the rage disappears, instead he is pulling at your limbs so he can look you over, checking you for any injuries you realize. 

“It’s not my blood.” You try to explain. 

“It is.” He snaps, eyes narrowing as he pulls a piece of glass from your hip. “You’re hurt.”

And when you look down you realize it is in fact some of your blood, since you had fallen on the vase. He pulls you to look back at him, keeping his hand on your jaw. “Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t check for the kids, he merely drags you away. 

- 

The target was acting weird, both him and his prostitute were. You knew better than that, and you refused to let this one slip away today, you were so sick of watching him and his hookers. 

So you grabbed your gear, and went to work. 

Never take the front door, that was the first rule. So you climbed onto the roof of his apartment building, finding the skylight and carving your way in, sliding down on a rope to land on your feet and pull out your knife prematurely. 

Immediately you know something is off, the sharp feeling in your spine makes you feel like there is a predator near. 

A predator you know all too well by the smell of leather. 

You can’t help the hiss that passes your lips as you whirl to find him, kicking out to knock him off his feet as soon as you can. Only he was prepared for that, catching your foot with his metal, pulling you close only to barely dodge the knife you slash at him, his eyes wide. 

You take his shock to your favor, slashing at him again, his metal arm coming up to protect him. The clash rings out and you hiss again, making him grunt out as you distribute the weight. Only to get knocked off your ass by another figure. 

You had been so distracted with your hate for the Soldat that you missed the red white and blue suit.

You waste no time to twist and attack at them, turning feral with the need to kill.  

And then the fight turns 2 against one. Every slash you make is dodged by a metal shield or a metal arm, every kick is met with one of their own, every punch is caught and pushed away. They both track your movements well, easily even. 

You kick the chest of the Captain, sending him reeling back, throwing a knife to trap his sleeve to the ground as you turn back to the Soldat and move to stab the knife down, he catches it between the crook of his metal arm, grunting out to keep you further back. 

“I don’t want to do this.” He grunts out as you push down with the knife, hissing. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Need?” You laugh bitterly. “I want to do this.”

And you almost got it until he kicked out your feet and sent you reeling back. 

You were getting desperate, panicked, and though you knew better than to let yourself get this way you couldn’t help it. So with no true aim you threw the knife, the Soldat catching it with one hand as you charge at him, triggering the fangs as you use his own knee to launch up, your knee pressing on his shoulder with your right hand pulling his hair to expose his neck while he drops the knife. 

Instead of pulling you off his arms come up to catch you, like natural instinct. And you are pathetic because you hesitate, this is your chance to get him and yet you feel tears in your eyes as you can’t even push your hand to get him. 

And then you’re being thrown as something hits your back, air leaving your lungs. 

Pain laces through you as you fly off him, the shield flying back to the Captain while you fall to the ground. 

Not only do you feel the pain in your back but your hip hits the floor and you cry out, struggling to get back to your feet to keep fighting. 

“Hey! Don’t you dare!” The man in the USA suit orders, pointing at you like you are a dog. “Stop.”

You hiss while the Soldat chuckles, wiping some of the blood from his lip. “Listen-”

“Fuck you!” You yell, lunging out to attack but it’s no use as you crumble to the ground, your hip giving out. He’s quick to go to help you, only to be pushed back as you reach to snatch another knife only for his boot to step on it. 

“You used to be better at this.” He huffs out, still breathing heavily as the other one comes closer. 

You want to kill him, to yell at him and hit him. You want to tell him that he’s the reason for all of this. But the tears are falling and your hip is throbbing. 

You’re useless. 

“Kill me.” You snap. “Just do it. Get it over with.”

You watch as his face crumbles, pain lacing his features while his partner takes charge. 

“We are here to help you, that is all.” He starts. “You want revenge, that’s understandable. But there are better ways, I promise you.”

“Better ways?” You hiss out a laugh through the tears. “You’re kidding me.”

“You want to ruin these men, and I understand.” He leans down, and you risk a look to the Soldat, who is watching you with a devastating look, you are forced to turn back to the other to avoid getting sick. “You have information on them, you can testify-”

“What? So they can get out of it?” 

“No, they could serve time in-”

“COULD. They could.”

“Then we get revenge.” It’s the Soldat that says this, his voice tight. “We will, I promise. You work with Sam and I and we will get intel on them all, enough so that they don’t have a chance. But no killing.”

You look back and forth between them, watching as they have a silent conversation between them, before the captain finally nods with a deep sigh. 

Soldat turns back to you, kicking the knife to you gently. “Come on.”

“I can get you a full pardon.” His partner offers. “Full pardon of all crimes within the red room to now. So long as the three of us work together.”

“My entire list?” You sneer, risking a look to the Soldat one more time. 

“Entire list.” He nods, watching you closely. 

And then it clicks for you. You’re trapped here, there is no doubt. But if you could get closer, to trap him in, you could finish your promise to yourself. 

You can kill him. 

So, with a final hiss and tears falling down your face you nod slowly, clutching your hands into fists as you answer with a ‘deal.’

- 

The inland taipan is a specialist hunter of mammals, and its venom is adapted to kill warm-blooded species. The venom acts quickly to kill the prey before they can bite back or escape

- 

The Soldat helps you the entire way, even though you weren’t actually hurt, which you tried to tell him. But the arguments were no use, he would hear none of it, instead he pushed to carry you until you both made it home. 

He hauls you to the bathroom, setting you down to start the water and let it heat up before removing your suit as slowly as possible. Once the suit of off he helps you sit down so the cut is exposed and he can clean it. 

The fact that such a small cut would bother him so much nearly makes you laugh, but it also gives you butterflies, and you wonder if this is how normal people feel. So you lean forward, grabbing his attention. And without thinking you kiss him, your lips meeting his as you melt into him. 

This would change everything, and you know it, but you don’t care. And he didn’t either by the way his arms wrap around you, melting into the kiss just as you had. 

- 

You were going to kill the Soldat, it was something you had promised yourself long ago. In the darkened cell they had kept you in, near dead, the only thing keeping you from giving up was that promise. 

‘I will not leave this earth unless he is gone from it’ 

You would kill him, this was fact, no matter what you had to do. Once you did that you could kill yourself.  This final mission was yours.

-

[willyoubemycherryy]

Order➬𝑭𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒎𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛

“Well look at you…”

𝑰𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏

.

.

☘︎︎.

It would be so cute when it was done. You just had to trust the process.

Sitting in the middle of Joe’s room covered in all kinds of glitter, patches, thread, and other crafty things. You were adding designs to a jacket you recently bought for him because you thought he’d look so good in it….after you gave it some razzle dazzle.

Now in your defense, it wasn’t gonna take long. It wasn’t supposed to. It was just sewing some cute patches on a cute jacket that you got your more than cute boyfriend. But…you’d never been particularly good at sewing or minding the time, so there’s that.

You can only imagine how you look as the door suddenly opens and Joe walks in, freezing as he looks at you. There’s a mess of supplies all around you and you…

You’re so cute, sitting on your knees in patterned stockings wearing one of those mini skirts you love so much, lovely hair pinned up away from your pretty face as your glossy lips move into a pout as you bat your lashes at him, shooing him with a manicured hand and he’s never been more smitten.

“Ugh! Joeee!! Now it won’t be a surprise! Go! Shoo! Off with you!” You yell, trying to be stern even as your cheeks heat under his love struck gaze.

“Well look at you…”

The soft tone of his low voice makes your heart skip a beat as you look down at your unfinished project. You like him too much to even stay frustrated with him.

“It’s for you…but it’s not done yet so you have to wait even though you wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t back so early”, you catch yourself rambling because he’s closer, kneeling down in front of you as he smiles, still looking at you like you were cloud 9 personified.

Honestly, to him, it doesn’t matter that you’re not finished because the fact that you were thinking of him enough to do something for him means more than you’ll ever know. You’re so sweet on him that it makes him melt as he bends down to kiss you tenderly.

“Thank you, you’re a doll. I love it, really.” You flush entirely, down to your toes as you giggle, soaking up his affection.

“Practice ended early so that’s why I’m back early and I’m glad I am. You look even prettier today”, he’s going to give you heart failure if he keeps sweet talking you like this, you whine.

“You’re trouble today and while I very much enjoy it, it’s also distracting so…” Joe laughs because usually it’s you flustering him, not the other way around.

“Are you kicking me out my room, doll?”

Suppressing a smile, you nod.

“Unfortunately, but not for long. You’ll just have to go play or something in the meantime.” The way he quirks his eyebrow as a slow smirk grows on his face makes you rush to correct yourself.

“Not like that!” He bursts into more laughter and you pull him into a kiss to shut him up.

You separate and he puts a hand up in surrender.

“Alright, I’m gone. Be back in 40?” You nod and he gets up to go.

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave!” The immediate shade of red on the tips on his ears has you struggling to compose yourself as you laugh, the door swinging shut behind him as his heart beats faster.

Already looking forward to 40 minutes from now.

(Y’all listen to birds of a feather I’m in love)

♡︎ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ😌

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Unexpected vulnerabilities and glimpses of hidden struggles are unveiled. But as defenses rise and words cut deep, the moment is fractured, leaving you and Agatha to confront unresolved emotions alone. Back at home, tensions only deepen.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

Agatha’s eyes fix on the ground, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in the dirt as she collects her thoughts. “It’s … my mother” she begins, each word dropping heavily, like stones tossed into a deep well. “She… she expects a lot from me.”

You stay quiet, watching her carefully, patiently waiting for her to keep going as if any movement or sound could rip the moment apart.

Agatha sighs, frustration clouding her face “It’s like no matter what I do, it’s never enough. Ultimately, I always do something wrong, some unforgivable mistake that makes me unworthy of her legacy. It’s … it’s … it’s exhausting.”

You feel an unexpected twinge of empathy, the weight of those expectations all too familiar. “So that’s why you… reacted like that?” you ask softly, choosing your words with care, as to not startle her. 

Agatha’s tone sharpens, but something fragile lingers beneath “I was… tired. Tired of always being under her scrutiny, tired of feeling like I’m never good enough.”

You study her, take in her words, trying to gauge how much more she is willing to reveal. 

And then she speaks again, almost startling you. “I’m supposed to be Agatha Harkness” she says, voice laced with sarcasm “powerful and poised, the daughter of the great Evanora Harkness” she sweeps her arms out in a mocking, theatrical gesture, her lips curling into a bitter smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Then, her expression falters and her voice drops to a murmur “But here …” her gaze lowers, arms falling back to her sides, her voice barely audible now. “Here, I was just … broken. Powerless”.

An unexpected protectiveness stirs within you and the words easily come out “You’re not broken, Agatha. Sometimes… it’s all just too much.”

Her eyes flash with something unguarded—is it … gratitude? “You make it sound so simple” she scoffs bitterly, “But it’s not. Not when your are constantly being told, reminded, that you’re failing to live up to some impossible standards someone else set for you.”

You fight back the urge to share how much you relate to her words, choosing to let Agatha have her moment. Right now, you just want her to keep going, to talk to you. “Maybe you should tell her that” you suggest, your tone gentle but firm. “Your Mother, maybe she needs to hear it.”

Agatha’s laughter is hollow. “Right, because that’s how these things work. I’ll just sit down for tea with her and be like, ‘Hey, Mother, can we have a chat about your impossible expectations?’”

“Why not?” you counter, your voice calm and steady as you try to hold back a smirk at her sarcasm. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She’d probably just sl- laugh in my face and remind me what failure of a daughter and witch I am” Agatha replies, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

You meet her gaze, determined not to back down. “Why do you let her get to you? You can choose not to let her opinions define you.”

And with your words lingering in the air, an unbidden thought strikes ‘you are such a hypocrite, is that what you do when it comes to your own mother? You, giving mother-daughter relationship advice … really?!’. Your own voice is so loud in your head, but you are quick to push it aside, determined to keep your focus on the conversation and on Agatha.

Agatha scoffs shaking her head “And you think that’s easy? Maybe for someone who hasn’t spent their life under the weight of someone else’s expectations.” her tone is icy before she pauses, her eyes narrowing. “What would you even know about that?”

“Enough to know that resentment eats away at you” you shoot back, tension tightening around you. 

Agatha opens her mouth, then hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “So now you’re just the expert on my life, right?”. The moment the question hits your ears, you realize there’s something about the way her sass flares up, only to vanish just as quickly, that’s starting to grow on you—for reasons you can’t quite explain.

“No” you say evenly “but I’m trying to understand. You act like you don’t care, but tearing up half the forest isn’t exactly indifference, is it?”

Agatha rolls her eyes “Oh, aren’t you insightful?” she shoots back, sarcasm dripping from every wordy. “What’s next, are you going to solve all of my life’s problems with your little spells and the power of nature?” she raises her hand, fingers flicking in exaggerated waves as if she’s casting a spell in mockery of your abilities. 

When her teasing is met by your silence and unimpressed face, Agatha’s hand drops. She shifts on her spot and slightly away form you, her walls slamming back into place. “What makes you think I need your help? I don’t want you to understand me” Agatha snaps. Yet, her bravado feels thin, barely masking the vulnerability underneath. “And I don’t need you to either. I don’t know you and you don’t know me and things don’t need to change just because yester-”

“Maybe I’m starting to see you” you interject, your voice low but firm. “And maybe … that scares you.”

Agatha’s expression darkens, and you can see the inner conflict waging war once again within her. “What do you even want from me?” she asks, her tone suddenly softer, almost pleading. “Do you want me to apologize? To grovel at your feet? Because I’m not going to do that.”

Your scoff immediately fills the air “I don’t want any of that.” you say, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination … before it falters. “I-I just want to listen, to help you” the words escape your lips before you even realize it but, weirdly enough, you feel no urge to take them back.

It’s Agatha’s turn to scoff, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if trying to shield herself from your words. “You really think you can break through, don’t you? You think you can just stroll in and make it all better?” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s in it for you, anyway?” her eyes narrow, a twisted smirk curving her lips as she tilts her head, examining you “Or do you just get off on trying to ‘help’ people?” she sneers. “Is this your idea of fun, finding broken souls to patch up?”

The words hit you like a slap, and you feel a surge of irritation rising in your chest. It’s not like that… is it? You’re not even sure why you’re here, why you feel this strange pull toward Agatha’s pain, her defenses, and her sharp sarcasm. But her accusation stings, and for a second, you’re at a loss, unable to find a response that doesn’t sound defensive. You press your lips together, trying to ignore the way her gaze feels like it’s cutting straight through you, exposing motives you hadn’t even figured out yourself.

You just… sit there, quietly, as the silence between you grows stifling and almost suffocating, locking you both into this strange standoff. Then, Agatha finally looks away, her smirk of satisfaction fading quickly to your own surprise. 

You study her face for a few more seconds before letting your gaze drift away. For an instant, you can feel how her words are suspended in the air, mingling with the wisps of smoke from the dying fire. Enveloped in that same air, Agatha can feel the weight of what she said, its sharpness. A flicker of uncertainty crosses her face, giving way to something heavier, the realization that her words likely reached a part of you she hadn’t entirely meant to wound.

A hint of regret seeps in, unexpected and unwelcome, but undeniable. Her fingers find a loose twig on the ground, and she twists it absently, a distraction from the unfamiliar pang of guilt settling in her chest. 

The two of you remain like this, silently lost in thought and unwilling to meet each other’s gaze, as time stretches on indefinitely. Finally, as if needing to fill the silence pressing down on her, Agatha breaks it, her voice edged with frustration “It’s just… I don’t know why I’m even talking to you about this.” she mutters.“This whole conversation is ridiculous. I should be studying, or practicing my spells, or… I don’t know, anything else! Not sitting here talking to you, of all people.”

At the sound of her voice, you turn your gaze back to her, noticing how she is yet again tracing aimless patterns in the dirt, this time with the twig. Her eyes are fixed downward, still avoiding yours. “Maybe you needed to get it off your chest” you reply calmly. Only then does Agatha’s hand still, her gaze lifting until her eyes meet yours, something flickering within them as if your words have caught her off guard, as if she was expecting you to reply something else entirely. “Besides” you add “they say it’s easier to talk to someone you’re at odds with.”

“Right, because that’s totally sane” Agatha snaps, but her voice lacks its usual bite. “I’ve lost it, talking to my mother’s rival’s daughter. What’s next? Making each other flower crowns?”

You raise an eyebrow and take a breath, feeling the tension ease just a fraction. “We’re not so different, you know. We are both fighting to escape expectations that were never ours to begin with.”

“Great!” Agatha replies, giving a slow, exaggerated clap, the faintest hint of a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Two broken souls bonding over the wreckage of their lives. Truly inspiring.”

“Better than being at each other’s throats” you shot back, your words almost a question, a small grin threatening to break through.

Agatha rolls her eyes, but you can see the corners of her mouth twitch again. “I suppose. Just don’t expect me to start writing poetry about my feelings anytime soon.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” you reply, unable to suppress a chuckle.

But the lightness of the moment doesn’t last long. Agatha’s expression shifts back to something more guarded as she speaks “Look, just … I don’t want to be some sob story. I’ll handle my drama in my own way. I didn’t ask for this heart-to-heart.”

“Fair enough” you say, your voice steady. “Just know that you can talk to me if you ev-”

“Sure, I’ll just add it to my list of things I’d rather not do.” she cuts in, but there’s a flicker in her eyes—a glimmer of something like acknowledgment, maybe even appreciation.

This isn’t a resolution, but it’s a step. Toward what, you’re not entirely sure. The tension between you shifts slightly, softened by all the things left unsaid. You tell yourself it’s nothing significant, but somewhere, buried beneath your thoughts, lingers the sense that this might not be the last time you talk.

Agatha’s voice pierces through the silence, her expression serious “It doesn’t make sense, does it? And yet here we are.”

“Yeah” you murmur, letting the strange truth settle between you. “It’s ridiculous, we’re practically rivals.”

“Practically?” she scoffs, though the tension in her voice hints at something different, an understanding just beneath the surface. “I’d say we’re already well past that point.”

“Fine, we’re rivals.” you say, and you can almost taste the faint hesitation on your tongue. “But… do you even know why?” you can’t help but ask, the question just hanging there, almost rhetorical. “I mean, it’s just… always been that way, hasn’t it? Like, it was handed down to us and … we went along with it?”

Agatha’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement at your questions, her expression shifts slightly as she considers your words. But her tone suddenly hardens “You think that just because we’re sitting here, chatting about my emotional breakdown or whatever, that we’re best friends now? That’s not how it works and you know it.”

Agatha’s words settle heavily in the air, cold and dismissive, pressing against you like an invisible wall. Whatever momentary connection you thought you’d glimpsed now feels fractured. For a brief second, you almost want to reply, to push back, but a strange resignation settles over you instead. You can’t shake the feeling of foolishness creeping in, a nagging sense that this whole morning was just a waste of time. Why did you even bother? What were you even expecting?

You force yourself to nod, as if conceding. “Right. Like you said, that’s not how it works.”, but the words taste empty. You exhale sharply before standing up, glancing back at her one last time “Goodbye, Agatha.” you say, your voice steady and calm, deliberate. You hold her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, as if silently making it clear that you won’t be the one left vulnerable. Then, without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, letting the muted sounds of the forest close in around you.

Agatha doesn’t move for a long time, her gaze trained on the fading embers. The ashes lift and drift in the breeze, remnants of something heavy and unresolved, scattered too easily, just like the semblance of a connection that had briefly flared between you. She watches as the ashes dissolve into the air, a reminder that what’s been reduced to ashes rarely returns to what it once was. The weight of the moment clings to her, an odd pang she doesn’t fully understand. It presses against her usual defenses, almost like regret, not that she’d never admit it.

As she sits there, the faint rustle of underbrush draws her attention. She looks up, noticing a rabbit moving toward her with a cautious, uneven gait. Her brow furrows slightly as she watches it come closer, each hesitant hop tugging at an unspoken guilt she doesn’t want to acknowledge. Only when it pauses just a step from her crossed legs does she feel the certainty settle. A quiet, undeniable recognition that this is indeed the same rabbit that had fallen victim to her anger the day before.

Instinctively, she raises a hand to shoo it away, irritation flashing across her face. “Get lost.” she mutters, her voice sharper than she intends, her fingers flicking in a dismissive wave. But the rabbit doesn’t retreat. It stands its ground, then hops closer, pausing in front of her with a quiet insistence. She watches it, her irritation softening as it sits there.

With a sigh, Agatha relents, lowering her hand until her fingers barely graze the rabbit’s fur. The warmth of its small body surprises her, grounding her in the quiet solitude of the forest. Guilt and tenderness flicker in equal measure as she absently strokes its fur. “I’m sorry.” she whispers, barely recognizing her own voice as a single tear trails down her cheek. The rabbit hops into her lap, then settles in, curling up as if it belongs there, its small body calm against her. For the first time in a long while, Agatha allows herself a moment of quiet reflection, feeling the weight of emotions she can’t fully name.

The stillness of the forest fades as you cross through your garden and step into the walls of your home. Before you can even close the door, your mother’s voice pierces the silence, her tone laced with its usual mix of mockery and disapproval. “Back already?” she sneers, her gaze scanning you as if searching for signs of trouble. “You usually haunt the woods till dusk, and here you are, so early.”

You suppress an eye roll, your patience already strained “Not much going on out there.” you reply coolly, moving past her toward the stairs, hoping to avoid the inevitable lecture. But her voice follows you, sharp and cutting.

“Not causing trouble, I hope? I’d hate to hear of another mess like yesterday’s. Evanora doesn’t need any more reasons to question our family’s… stability.” Her words are thinly veiled, the accusation hovering in the air between you.

You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to snap back. “No troubles and no messes, Mother.” you say dismissively, willing your voice to remain steady.

As you place a foot on the stairs, your mother’s voice sharpens again, keeping you rooted to the spot. “And don’t think you’ll be skipping Evanora’s gathering this afternoon. She’s called on every one of us to further discuss this hunter situation and possibly put together some kind of patrol group. And you will be there. I won’t have you embarrassing me by staying behind.”

You pause, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “And if I don’t want to go?”

Her smile is as cold as her tone “Then I suggest you finally master that invisibility spell. But since I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon, you’ll attend. Just like the rest of us.”

You feel her gaze on your back as you ascend the stairs, her words echoing after you with their customary bite. In the silence of your room, you find yourself looking out the window, the image of Agatha sitting cross-legged by the smoldering ambers lingering at the edges of your thoughts. You brush it away, frustrated at yourself for even allowing it to linger.

And then, as you sit in the quiet of your room, a sudden thought hits you, sharp and unwelcome. Of course, Agatha will be there this afternoon. You almost laugh at the bitter irony, escaping the forest and that exhausting conversation, only to be thrown back into her presence. It feels as if the universe itself is playing some twisted joke, forcing you back into her orbit before her words have even had the chance to fade. Normally, neither of you would spare the other a glance, content to keep a safe distance in the silent rivalry that’s defined you both for years. Today won’t be any different. Nothing has really changed, you tell yourself. 

[alotofpockets]

Breaking point | Reneé Rapp x Reader

Where Reneé comforts you after exam season gets the better of you

Warnings: reader has anxiety, adhd, and an ed. If there any inaccuracies please let me know!

Reneé masterlist | Words: 1.5k

-----

Exam season was hated by most, and rightfully so. The stress put on students to learn everything the semester was for not just one subject, but all of them in the matter of a few weeks, was an insane amount. For you it wasn’t just stressful, it was almost impossible.

You had been at it for weeks now, sitting at your desk and trying to get the information in your brain. At this point you wondered what the use was. No matter how long you stared at the pages, none of the words you read stuck. Your ADHD was making it harder to focus than ever. Every noise, or glimpse of something in the corner of your eye, pulled your focus away.

The room was a mess. Textbooks, notes and flashcards were scattered not just on your desk but across the floor. Usually your chaos had some organisation to it, but now it was all just laying somewhere random. You cursed yourself for straying from your usual organisation, cause you couldn’t find anything, which only fueled your anxiety more.

On your desk also stood four half-full glasses with different contents, all started but long forgotten about before getting a new one. That seemed to be your pattern these days, starting something, then getting distracted and never finishing it. 

Food was a whole new topic. Your girlfriend had brought you a plate of food for breakfast earlier today. The gesture was really sweet, but even the thought of taking a bite was too much. Your mind convinces you that you didn’t deserve to eat until you retained some of the knowledge. Even though you were well aware that your body needed the nutritions, your brain kept you in the constant cycle of not being worthy of a meal.

You stared at the pages before you, and all the words blended together. This was no use. All subjects merged together, and you didn't think you could ever make sense of any of it. Your chest tightened as your mind started racing again. I am a failure. I can’t do this. Why can’t I just focus like everyone else? The more you tried to calm yourself down, the worse it got.

Before you knew it, your frustration boiled over. With a huff, you swipe your desk clean, sending everything crashing to the floor. The clash of your drink glasses and plates breaking onto the floor, matched with the scream you let out in frustration, makes your girlfriend rush into the room.

Reneé finds you on the floor with tears streaming down your face, trying to pick up the broken glass. “Baby?” She said softly, keeping her voice calm, even though her worry was still noticeable in her tone.

You look up at her with tears in your eyes. “I can't do this anymore.”, you sobbed. Reneé crouched down beside you, and took your hands in hers. “It's okay. Let's take a break, alright?” You shake your head, “I can't. I have to keep going.” The words echoing in your mind all rush out. “I have to get this done. I am running out of time. I can’t fail this.”

Reneé takes your hands in hers, a way to give comfort, but also to make sure you wouldn't cut yourself. “I know, darling,” Reneé said softly, her voice steady as she looked into your eyes. “But right now, you’re too frustrated. That’s not going to help you focus. You need a break, just to breathe, okay?”

You don't respond, but stop resisting, so Reneé stands up slowly. “Come on, I'll run you a bath to relax.” You let her help you up and fall into her arms. “I've got you baby.” She walks you to the bathroom, and helps you get ready for the bath. “Just try to clear your mind for a moment, I will be right back.” She placed a soft kiss onto your forehead before she left the bathroom.

With your eyes closed, you tried to push down the way your mind was racing. It took a while but then all of a sudden your mind was quiet, and you let the tension leave your body, and lay back in the bathtub.

In your study room, Reneé carefully cleaned up the broken glass. When all of the broken pieces had been thrown away, she took a look around the room, and realised that there was no order to your chaos. She knew you well enough to know that this wasn’t your system, and also good enough to know what was. She spent some time organising your notes as best as she could before she deemed the room ready.

She had also seen the untouched plate of food, and realised that you were probably struggling with it more again. Reneé had been there through the ups and downs of your eating disorder. You had been doing quite well with it recently, having it under control most days, but she should’ve known that the amount of stress you were feeling would affect that control.

Before she heads back to the bathroom, she heads into the kitchen and prepares some toast. Toast was the most likely item of food for you to be able to eat, and she hoped that today was one of those days where your mind would allow you to have at least a couple of bites.

She lets out a sigh of relief when she walks in and sees you have been able to let go of some of the stress. “Hi baby.” She lets her hand fall over yours as she kneels down besides the bath. You open your eyes slowly, “Thank you.” Reneé always knew what you needed, and you would forever be grateful that she would take care of you in your lowest moments.

Reneé had grabbed you some comfy clothes, and had gotten into some herself as well. You got dressed and she brushed your hair for you. “I made some toast, if you would like to have some. If not, we can just sit in the kitchen for a bit and talk.” You nodded in agreement, knowing that you needed some time away from the study room before you would be able to have any luck in retaining any of the information.

You took a look at the toast, and your mind had already decided that taking a break was more than enough of a freebie, so eating wasn’t going to be allowed either. To try and distract yourself from that fact, you chatted with your girlfriend. 

While getting distracted was usually something that frustrated you, getting distracted by your girlfriend had a different effect. It was easier to focus on her, when she talked about something she loved with nothing but passion, it was like you got sucked right in.

Without even realising it, you had taken a couple of bites of your toast, while listening to Reneé talk about a song she had started working on earlier today. Reneé noticed, but was quick to hide her proud smile, to not put the focus on that in the hopes of you getting a few more bites in.

It was only when you went to grab another piece of toast, and there was nothing left on your plate, that you realised you had been eating. “Wait, I just did that?” Now Reneé openly showed her proud smile, “You did.”

You looked at your plate in disbelief. “I can’t believe I just did that.” Having a meal without thinking about it was not something that often happened. “I’m proud of you darling.” She reached out her hand over the table and held yours.

“I know it’s a big ask, but what do you say we take the rest of the day off and just do some relaxing?” Your eyes shot up at her, and she knew instantly that she had to convince you further. “Movie night now, so you can be all recharged for tomorrow. I can even help you study like before? You can focus on my voice while I read out the information for you. How does that sound?” It took a lot out of you to agree, but you did. “Okay, you go get comfy in bed and pick a movie, and I will clean this up really quickly.” 

A few minutes later Reneé joined you in the bed and the two of you cuddled up together. “Thank you for always taking care of me.” You say softly. “Of course, I will always take care of my girl.”

While the exam season wasn’t over yet, you knew that the break tonight was necessary to push forward tomorrow. With that thought in mind, you were able to push away the stress you were having momentarily and enjoy the movie with your girlfriend.

-----

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[acourtofthought]

Why do people say Azriel only wants a mate if he's going after Elain .... a woman who already having a mate and Mor ... someone who wasn't even attracted to men - aren't those exactly the 2 categories of women he'd avoid if he were out here only wanting a mate

Self-sabotage.

"Self-sabotage is when a person's actions or thought patterns intentionally or subconsciously interfere with their goals, wellbeing, or success".

Azriel's goal / desire is to have a mate. Which is entirely valid, what fae male wouldn't hope to have one? Even Cassian admits to holding out for one of his own. Yet he continues going after women who aren't his mate while questioning why they aren't his mate. He's wasting time where he could possibly recognize his mate elsewhere by choosing to brood over something he cannot change no matter how moody he acts over it. So why? Why is Azriel self-sabotaging?

Self-sabotage can be caused by a number of factors, including:

Fear of failure, success, pain, or rejection

Low self-esteem

Negative self-talk

Past traumas

Seeking comfort in what's familiar (3 brothers with 3 sisters would be comfortable for him because it means he remains just as close to his brothers as ever, it means he and Cassian and Rhys are still sharing something when so much else is changing).

We know Az has some pretty major issues, his rage, thinking he'll taint Elain, thinking he doesn't belong, thinking he's not good enough (confirmed by Mor).

The Az of now would be absolutely wasted on his actual mate because she wouldn't come first, his hatred of himself always would. So I think he's subconsciously (consciously?) making sure he never sets himself up to actually finding her. To never risk his mate, the ultimate gift to a fae, seeing him and deciding she doesn't want him because she doesn't think he's enough just like he believes he's not enough. Fixating on why certain females aren't his mate (when we all know they're not) is him giving himself a free pass to wallow and not work on his own issues while protecting himself from being irrevocably hurt by anyone else. There is security in denial. Elain's rejection wouldn't break Az. Mor's rejection is something he's struggled with but clearly he's not broken over it after 500+ years. But his Mother Blessed mate rejecting him? That's something I don't think Az would recover from.

[olderthannetfic]

Knitting question!

Intellectually I know failure is fine. I'm a beginner! I'm learning! Mistakes are part of the process! But I find it really hard not to be demotivated by projects not turning out how I want

I spent all this time and materials on this and it's just kinda shit?

Did you experience that/have any advice?

--

I definitely experienced that when I first tried knitting. I don't remember, but I suspect it's why I drifted away from the craft for nearly two decades.

I have a couple of semi-failures from my current re-entry into knitting. I intend to frog or partially frog them and re-knit, but there are other projects I care more about that are taking priority so far.

Right now, I love watching youtube videos with little tricks to improve one's knitting or deep dives into technical matters. I find information on fiber fascinating. I think that has helped me avoid many of the problems I experienced the first time around. Even if I run into an issue now, I can probably redo the project to make it how I want.

I think the first thing to figure out is how it's kind of shit. Yes, yes, you're a n00b, but there are lots of reasons projects turn out shitty. Some issues require a lot of practice. Many issues require reading a blog post explaining some technical thing and instantly upgrading your knowledge.

--

For example:

When I first got back into knitting, I got some pretty green yarn and made a Medieval-looking hood. I had no clue how alpaca behaved or that it would be waaaay too flowy for the look the pattern was supposed to have. I was also knitting the pattern with the wrong size of yarn, needle, etc. It turned out way too big for me and a formless blob. It was also itchy.

A year or two later, I threw it in the dryer, and now it's an epic rainy day hood. It's mostly not itchy because the felting stuck down all those hairy ends. It has a lot more body now because it's felt instead of flowy hand-knit alpaca. (And, hey, it's even more Medieval since those hoods were often felt but not often knitted as far as I could tell.)

What went wrong here was mostly that I knew fuckall about fiber. I knew I was making it in some randomass size and didn't really care that it was too big, but I didn't know it would slither off of me due to alpaca's drape. I didn't need practice: I needed someone to tell me how alpaca behaves.

--

Example 2:

I knit that Owls sweater and didn't like how it had no shaping... so I winged it. I ended up with really bizarre shaping because 1. I had no idea what I was doing and 2. I didn't close the underarm holes until the very end, so the sweater appeared to fit when I tried it on.

I could open the underarms back up and knit a separate piece for them, but I realized that I dislike the fabric overall. I knit it on a too-big needle (in my opinion). I thought I liked that looseness in my swatch, but I have changed my mind. I was also worried about running out of yarn (since it's a used yarn that I won't find again), but I had tons left over. I also think I want it more cropped. The yarn has a sort of nasty texture but beautiful color, and I knit quite a tight (and thus scratchy) sweater. I don't think I wet blocked it though, so that might fix the texture.

What I should actually do here, assuming I don't just get rid of the thing in favor of better yarn, is frog it and reknit from the top down, reversing the pattern and not having a phase with the underarms open like that. I should also knit it at a tighter gauge but with a little more positive ease, and I should trust that the stretchiness of wool will make it conform to my body just fine without a lot of shaping. Before any of that, I should wet block it and see how the texture changes.

I don't really consider this a permanent failure. I like the Owls themselves. I can easily just knit this again and get a sweater I want to wear... possibly a cardigan, now that I think about it. The yarn is a relatively robust wool that will be fine being frogged and reused, and knitting it gave me more experience with finishing a whole sweater. My various fuckups taught me things about both knitting and my personal taste.

I guess it could be demotivating because it took a while, but on that bigass needle, it really didn't take that long. I would probably always have knit multiple sweaters from this pattern. I see more than one in my future anyway.

Experience was an issue here, but it wasn't experience with the literal act of knitting. My tension was fine. It was more that I fucked around and found out.

--

Example 3:

I made a self-drafted BTS sweater out of another batch of used yarn that I'll never get more of. I love the body. the sleeves are too tight in the upper arm, and my bizarre-ass design for the top of the body means that the sweater wants to be a boat neck but also fit differently in the sleeves and... gaaaaah. The tight sleeves don't feel bad, but what they do do is make the whole sleeve slide down my arm weirdly because of the fit issues around the boat neck.

Part of why the upper arm area is so tight is that I was worried I'd run out of yarn (which I did) and I wanted a balloon sleeve rather than a straight one. The yarn is so stiff that the balloon part is weird, and the two other purple yarns I added for the lower sleeve look weird. I should have reversed their order because one matches too well, and now it just looks like I ran out and had to add a last inch in a random other yarn. I have most of those two skeins left hanging around and a sweater that fits strangely.

Also... it needs hand washing but is shaped and sized to be worn against bare skin, so it gets stinky after a few hours of wear because I am a sweaty, sweaty person.

In this case, I wouldn't redo the body: this silk blend will look less nice after frogging, and I already roughed it up a lot knitting the damn thing the first time. I knit it starting at the top, so the weird fit across the shoulders is mostly here to stay.

However, I'm pretty sure the bad fit on the sleeves can be fixed by ripping back and adding a bunch of width up top. I can also start with the flowier other two yarns and maybe have bands of this stiffer one that I used in the body. I suspect the weird body fit is fixable by changing what the sleeves are supposed to be doing.

This is another case of fucking around and finding out, so I'm not too disappointed in it. I did wear it to Yoongi's concert too, and it was gorgeous, if too hot.

I do realize now that I hate boat necks, but I think I can put up with this one if the sleeves aren't constantly sliding out of place.

And if fixing the sleeves doesn't rescue this, I might attempt some surgery one of these days, but that's more of a pain in the ass, so that will definitely have to wait.

--

Now, my guess is that your "kind of shit" is not "I freehanded a sweater two seconds after getting back into knitting because I'm a crazy person, and I messed up the shaping".

The more common problems are things like:

Not realizing that you should block or not blocking aggressively enough, so your stitches look way more uneven than they need to, the shape is weird compared to the example pics in the pattern, etc.

Using assy bind-offs so the edge looks amateur instead of polished. (You can go back and fix this.)

Failing to swatch, and now you've knit the wrong size.

Picking a fiber that just cannot do what you want it to—usually seen in people trying to avoid wool and not getting that 99.999999% of trendy patterns are written specifically for wool. I have an ancient sweater from college that looks nothing like the example in the book because all I could afford was big box store acrylic. Never again the plastic horror!

Buying patterns from a size 0 lifestyle blogger aspirational knitwear designer with no boobs and a great photographer, then feeling dumpy when trying the thing on under crappy lighting. This one usually requires a little more self confidence and some bust darts.

Making things in plain stockinette in a light color and smooth yarn like cotton that shows EVERY SINGLE TIME your tension wasn't machinelike. This is unfixable. Don't do this.

--

If you're using mohair or alpaca, frogging may be more trouble than it's worth, but you often can reuse the materials. Granted, you've still sunk that time in, but the materials don't always have to be wasted. That might help it feel more like time you spent practicing and less like a complete disaster.

I'm a very product-focused knitter, so I don't really have practice pieces. I'm knitting to have a Thing and I want to wear that Thing, so I get the disappointment if you don't end up wanting to actually use what you've made.

But that also helps me not get totally demotivated. I still want that Thing and now I have a clearer idea how to make it.

So... what are these "kinda shit" projects anyway? What about them do you not like?

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Razi's Guide to Challenging Coercive Control in Society and Your Personal Life

Part 1 - A Functionalist Perspective on Self-Creating Morality

I'll be blunt. The only person free from the risk of being abusive are those who were never alive at all. There is no easy solution to being a good and just person, and no matter what arena of our lives we interrogate, there will be actions we have taken or deeds endorsed that were unacceptable, likely even in the moment.

The truth is, there is no specific set of instructions I could give you to earn you such an outcome. But why should we refuse to try?

Many of us have learned to internalize fear of failure, especially fear of moral failure, as a fear of excommunication from the social fabric of survival. This combines poorly with a world in which the only person who is successfully non-coercive in their navigation of the world is the person who is unafraid of being told they HAVE exerted inappropriate pressure or coercion, and who is unafraid of the trial and error involved in learning the balance of people they love or live with. You have to fail morality with an open and curious mind in order to have even a hope of succeeding in morality. A connundrum for many a nervous system even when the brain sees true.

So lets be clear, the question of how to observe your own use and wielding of coercion and control is essential for EVERYONE, no matter who you are, what your values, or how your history has played out. Thinking otherwise is its own risk factor when assessing risks for abuse. Specifically, behaviors of and exertion of overcontrol actually often raises the risk measure of an abuse victim's safety assessment (in this case referring to The Danger Assessment commonly utilized in domestic violence safety assessment, linked below) more than a physical assault would, as it is historically a higher predictor of who will harm or kill a victim when they attempt to differentiate within the relationship or leave it.

So what are the foundations of coercive control? Well, interestingly enough, researchers have been working to answer this question for a while! There are a lot of really useful and in depth conversations about this, but here's a succinct introduction to it. **a reminder, this is about how to interrogate YOUR OWN behavior for patterns of coercion and control more effectively. The information contained in this post is NOT an effective way of identifying abusive/coercive thoughts and behaviors in others, although ultimately the better you understand your own risks and maladaptive behavior patterns, the easier it is to cultivate relationships with healthy and adaptive boundaries for all parties.

*these screenshots are cited from an article about self-reported abusive and coercive behaviors during perceived in-group conversations such as on estranged parent web forums and represents an effective intro summary of patterns of coercive/abusive relationships in many mixed-hierarchy relationship dynamics from other existing research:

The important thing about realizing we all carry at least SOME of these coercive/abusive beliefs is that we must allow the inevitability of that reality undermine the shame and fear society encourages us to feel about the possibility of committing a moral failure, and sppecifically doing so while being able to maintain the somewhat contradictory side-by-side reality that these moral failings, every time they occur, must be treated as if you have done serious harm which must be REPAIRED. Specifically, we must set aside the idea of self-flagellation/punishment as "repair" and we must stop seeing apologies as a performance of remorse and contrition. Apologies are an opportunity to communicate to a person that you respect and hear their feelings, and that you will continue to act with love to the best of your ability. People rarely feel displays of guilt make good apologies. They often feel like an apology has been properly made when they feel their experience of distress was recognized and given genuine kindness.

So rather than looking at this list and justifying the ones that hit a little too close to home, the experiment for this week, the last week of 2024, is to actually ask the question "what if believing this really does hurt me and others?" What would it mean to you, in the life you have led, to consider the possibility that these beliefs are themselves abusive/coercive, and that when you act on them, so are you. If you have decided to come along with me on this long-term self-study, perhaps you'll journal along with me (in public or in private) on that question.

For now, I'll get the ball rolling. One of the dysfunctional beliefs that resonated the most for me is:

Emotions cause actions. When I feel something, I can't not act on it, or at least it would be wrong not to.

I have spent many sections of my life in abusive relationships, and the idea of not acting on the feeling of hurt or emotional lashing out sits VERY poorly with me both in concept and in practice. I genuinely do believe that such emotions ARE wrong not to "act" on, but I have come to understand that to "act upon" an emotion like that must often be an internal or curated affair. For example, there are times that my wife says things that feel hurtful, and because of how I experience them, I can struggle at times to "remember" that my interpretation is not the only available one. It is rare, when I do remember this, for a thing my wife said to be INAPPROPRIATE, even when it is hurtful. And I have realized that how I talk to her about the hurt feelings from appropriate statements must look very different from a talk about the rare INAPPROPRIATE and hurtful comment. Critically, being clear with each other about these two types of conversations means we are better equipped to treat things that were both hurtful and inappropriate with real seriousness, without detracting from or sacrificing our ability to discuss more complicated navigations of hurtful but appropriate episodes/statements. Example: sometimes my wife lets me know she's feeling overextended physically and like she can't keep up on her own and can't get help. This is ALWAYS a hurtful conversation for me because I am aware of the truth of what she says and we are BOTH aware that truth is largely beyond my control. My wife, in these moments, is asking me to sit with her in love with the knowledge that she is hurting as an outcome of trying to do an entire household's physical labor alone and that she fundamentally cannot expect help from me even though we both wish that were not so. She is not asking any ACTION of me. She is not asking CHANGE. She is not asking for APOLOGY. She's not even asking for GRATITUDE. But she *is* asking TO BE SEEN BY HER PARTNER IN HER WHOLENESS. In the same example, there have been a time here or there when, whether in response to defensiveness from me, or overwhelm in other areas of life, she has expressed this need to be seen in ways that were truly unkind or inappropriate. When these occurred, it was entirely necessary for her and I to sit down and talk through why/how that could not repeat, but importantly, it happened AFTER she and I got through a conversation about her feelings. It did ME (let alone her) no good to challenge how she expressed a reasonable feeling in an unreasonable way in the moment. And in fact, taking the time to make sure she felt fully heard is often integral to her ability to hear me in turn. I like to call this the assumption of good faith. I know that my wife loves me and that I love her. I am allowed and in fact will require healthy boundaries to maintain this love in a healthy way. And healthy boundaries are best discussed with unconditional regard for all parties involved, which means that while some boundaries may not change based on someone's feelings about it, but those feelings may indicate certain needs that would - if met - better facilitate the outcomes you want. This is NOT abuse apologia, and inherently does not accept that certain boundaries (such as hitting or restraining another person) can be safely crossed. It does however name that many boundaries may require mutual agreement on how they can effectively manifest/be maintained.

A lesson I am choosing to take in from this exercise is the lesson that it can be emotionally easy to match energies when I feel someone is pressuring or aggressing me, but I know that my intellectual preference, and the choice I would least regret after the fact, would be to de-escalate that feeling rather than add to it. Because of my abuse history I often struggle to differentiate between "holding a boundary firmly" and "being mean", which can mean BOTH that I fail to adequately hold or communicate boundaries AND that I am prone to lashing out if I "bottle up" a boundary for too long and genuinely say something unkind an inappropriate. And while I may feel justified in my feelings, that can never translate to justifying inappropriate behaviors that stem from those feelings.

As 2025 dawns, what lessons are you taking into the year for yourself?

[trophy-girl]

Reshaping your thinking to be more positive takes practice and intentionality, but it's entirely possible!

Here are actionable steps to help you develop a more positive mindset:

Step 1 of 7 . Challenge Negative Thoughts

• Notice the Pattern: Pay attention to when and why you think negatively.Journaling can help you identify triggers.

• Question Your Thoughts: Ask yourself if your negative thoughts are based on facts or assumptions. Replace exaggerated or untrue thoughts with balanced ones.

2. Practice Gratitude

• Daily Gratitude List: Write down 3-5 things you're thankful for each day, no matter how small.

• Focus on What's Good: Shift your energy toward what's working well in your life rather than what isn't.

3. Use Positive Affirmations

• Write Affirmations: Create affirmations that resonate with your goals and values, such as, "I am capable," or, "I attract opportunities."

• Repeat Daily: Say them aloud in the mirror each morning to reinforce positivity.

4. Surround Yourself with Positivity

• Evaluate Your Circle: Spend time with people who uplift and inspire you.

• Curate Your Input: Follow accounts and consume media that promote positivity and growth.

5. Reframe Challenges

• See Setbacks as Lessons: Instead of viewing challenges as failures, treat them as opportunities to learn and grow.

• Focus on Solutions: When problems arise, shift your energy to finding solutions rather than dwelling on the problem.

6. Incorporate Positive Habits

• Visualize Success: Spend time imagining positive outcomes to boost your confidence and motivation.

• Celebrate Small Wins: Acknowledge even the smallest achievements to build momentum.

• Practice Kindness: Doing something kind for others can shift your mindset and boost your mood.

7. Be Patient and Consistent

• Start Small: Focus on one change at a time to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

• Track Your Progress: Reflect weekly on how your thoughts are shifting.

[miss0atae]

What love can do in Meet You at the Blossom and how it can shape your life (after Ep 3 & 4):

It took me a while to write this post because I changed its title so many times. I wasn't sure I was conveying my thoughts properly. I wanted to write about the healing power of love between Huai En and Xiao Bao, but I had so much to say before so this title didn't work anymore.

[gif by khunkinn] @khunkinn

It's not a coincidence you can find the same pattern in some of the characters from My Stand In and Meet You at the Blossom since they were written by the same writer. Huai En and Ming, both had shitty parenting when they were young and it mostly came from their father. More than Ming, Huai En was shaped by his relationship with his father. His mother and his father were childhood sweetheart who never got the chance to be together because she was taken away by Huai En's uncle and he made her as his concubine. We also learned Huai En was born out of wedlock. His uncle's legitimate wife was jealous and tried to kill Huai En and his mother. His father wanted to save them (mostly his mother I think) but failed and Huai En's mother died trying to save the father. Huai En and his father found a way to escape and he was raised to seek revenge for the death of his mother. However, it didn't make them close. Huai En's father seems to consider that his son is also partly responsible for the death of his mother. It's not yet explain why… but because of his bias Huai En's father unfairly treated his son. In episode 4, Huai En explains to Xiao Bao how his father beat and scold him during his childhood. Huai En had no other choice but to obey him “unconditionally” or he would suffer physical pain. We can also assume he suffered mentally too.

[gif by omgtheregoesthefuckidontgive] @omgtheregoesthefuckidontgive

Huai En has been having recurring nightmares about the mistreatment of his father. He seems to remember vividly trying to avoid falling from a cliff and found no help from his father. Quite the opposite, he was also mocked by his father. It is likely something he had experience while he was young and that became so traumatic that he can't forget it. We could say that Huai En is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder since this event. A father is supposed to care about his children. That's what we naturally expect from any “good” parents. It's hard to understand why his father thought his son should be responsible for his mother's death. We haven't had enough insight on what his going on in Huai En's father head. However, we know he is very controlling and don't let his son do what he wants in life. Huai En only purpose is to help him get the revenge he wants. Anything outside this is considered useless and unimportant. I don't think Huai En even got the chance to really know what he wants or dreams for outside this purpose. He doesn't get to voice his opinion or to have something just for him. He must live for his father's desire. It was shown during episode 4, when Huai En had a vision of his father telling me:

“Remember, you were born to redeem yourself for your mother’s sake. Don’t harbor unworthy thoughts for anyone of anything. Understand? Don’t even think of trying to escape. No matter where on Earth, you can’t escape from my grasp”.

I’m still trying to wrap my head over this fact. When Huai En told the story of how he was born, his mother was still alive. So I don’t get why his father would be so hard on him when he is supposed to be the love fruit of the love he had for his mother. I wonder if his father is the kind of man who would value his spouse over his child. We know his father has an obsessive love for his mother. It wasn’t just the “I want to avenge her” it feels more like “she was supposed to be mine and I lost her so I will enact my revenge”. Huai En’s father appears to have an overwhelming obsessive desire to possess and protect his lover and he has an inability to accept failure of keeping her alive. It doesn’t matter if to get his revenge he has to hurt his own son. I believe this type of love is the only one Huai En had ever experience so he doesn’t understand it’s not a normal or healthy way of loving someone. He must have avoided to be with anyone because the only love he knows is the one his father has for his mother. Love is a painful affair. It can lead to obsession and physical pain. That’s why he is so startled by Xiao Bao regular love confessions.

[gif by guzhufuren]

Xiao Bao had an entirely different childhood. His parents seem to have a healthy relationship and to love each other. Xiao Bao is their only son so they spoiled him and made sure he had a good life where he wants for nothing. You can see how they care for him and wants him to be happy. Since he was loved and taking care of, Xiao Bao grew up to be a nice person who is not shy to show his love. He never had to experience the “dark side” of love. For him, this is only a positive thing. He is also a very charming man; very genuine so when he fell in love with Huai En, he didn't dither and decided to pursue him. It didn't matter to him if Huai En wasn't the woman he thought he was. As long as there is love, it's enough for him. Compared to what Huai En is used to know about love, Xiao Bao's vision seems quite refreshing. Especially as they are in a time period where queer love was frown upon, Xiao Bao's view of love, gender and norms is fairly modern. He claims he will find a way of making their relationship being accepted by his parents. Why is he not afraid of claiming his love for Huai En, despite him being a man? It's because Xiao Bao is sure of his parents' love for him. This trust exists because he was raised this way.

[gif by guzhufuren] @guzhufuren

Xiao Bao may appear to be a fool, but he is more than what he seems. He isn't a great tactician or a skilled warrior, but he is knowledgeable when it comes to emotions. It was shown when he had a conversation about love and death with Xiao Bao. He admits that humans lives for emotions and desires and that you can be sad when you lose a loved one. However you can't be miserable all your life because of this. This vision of life is in opposition with everything Huai En has been taught from childhood. I would even say he was stunned. Xiao Bao understood that Huai En because of his past can't really understand what love is supposed to be and he is ready to teach him. I think he does have strong feelings for Huai En. He may pout or act silly sometimes, but when Huai En conceded if they were someone he truly wants to love, it would be Xiao Bao, it truly delighted him. He is not the kind of person to sulk for too long. He is so genuine and overjoyed. I'm not going to say it'll be easy for them. Even if Huai En despises his father's love for his mom and really wants to experience a healthy relationship, the way this love shaped his vision of life will have an impact on his relationship with Xiao Bao. You can quite see it when he is adamant about Xiao Bao having “no thought about others” or to never lie to him. This idea that Xiao Bao wants to be with him “forever” and not just be with him, kinda shows that his past will have an impact. However, I believe Xiao Bao's good nature may soften him.

[gif by ruanbaijie] @ruanbaijie

As he said himself to Huai En, his lover is “tough on outside, but soft inside”.

PS: I edited this post with better credits for the gif creators. I tagged all of you, I hope it's alright. If you prefer that I stopped using your gifs, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll do better with the credits on gif from now on.

[sehtoast]

A Future For Three (Homelander x OC)

hurt/comfort, ambiguous s4 ending, relationship road bumps, ryan butcher, ben being the better parent, pathetic homelander, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

Benjamin has done all he can to point Homelander in the right direction. Between plans for usurping power and parenthood, nothing has gone quite well. At least the bug will be there to help put out the fires.

Not even the crunch of rubble can pull his eyes away from the splotchy screen that spells out his failure in big, bold letters.

The silence between them is so very loud.  Louder than the ringing in his ears, louder than the news anchor’s dismayed voice as she reports Neuman’s death.  It’s only when those red, web-patterned shoes stop beside him that he dares flit his gaze anywhere else.  

Within a single day, he’d lost it all.  Ryan ran out on him, then Benjamin did the same… 

“You’re not being a father, you’re being a fuckin’ bully,” the bug had spat, fists clenched at his sides.  

He can still see the way they both looked at him.  Ryan’s eyes full of indignance, Ben’s full of heartbreak and disappointment.  The bug had bailed him out of his messes so many times now.  Talked to him about parenting, tried giving examples from his own upbringing on what to do and what to say, lectured him about patience and understanding.  But how?  

How can he do any of that when all the boy seems to want is a better father?

“It’s not a matter of dads,” Ben whispered to him so very long ago. “You’ve both taken care of him.  He’s got love for you both, but it’s not a competition, y’know?” 

But he never listened.  He never learned.

“Thought you wanted space… after…” he blurts, voice hoarse and thin. He gestures vaguely to the destroyed penthouse.  His eyes fall to the crumbled remains of Atlas.

It’s like looking in a mirror.

“I did, but…” Ben squats down, one hand snaking through his hair while the other lands atop his bent knee.  “I also told you I’d always take care of you.”

Homelander tugs Ryan’s book bag closer.

“Look at me, Johnny.” Ben whispers.

He hates the rimming of tears in his little spider’s eyes more than anything.  He put those there, didn’t he?  Took everything too far, was too cruel, said all those horrible things to rile up his fans… 

He barely registers the arms looping under his knees and around his back to lift him to the couch.  Benjamin murmurs something about him deserving better than sitting on the floor, but it sounds warped– messy and discombobulated as if they were underwater.  He lets Ben guide him, lets himself be coaxed to rest his head atop the bug’s lap and away from the sights of his failures.  He’d complain at the sound of his eagle epaulet puncturing the leather of the couch, but it was already destroyed anyway.

Just like everything else.

The tears start again.  The sobs quake, the shivers rattle him, and he gasps for air that simply won’t fill the void.  

“I’ve got you, pumpkin.”  Benjamin coos, fingers stroking through his hair.  “S’gonna be alright.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”  Homelander sputters.  Why can’t I do anything right?  

“Mm, a lot, honestly…”  The bug sighs, thumbing his cheek with a tenderness that conveys nothing but love behind such a devastating statement.  “But I’ll keep ya.” 

He hates the way that makes him cry harder.  He hates the way Ben holds him through it all.  It’d be so much easier if the bug would just throw him to the curb already.  Toss him aside, tear away one last shred of humanity from his used and abused heart.  One last anchor to remove him from that which he can never escape.

But it isn’t that simple.  It never will be.

By the time he’s devoid of any more tears, Benjamin still comforts him.  Still promises him an eternity.  Still shows him love.

“We’re gonna go down to my place, okay?”

“Why?”  He croaks.  His head throbs when he lifts it.

“I don’t want you sleeping in a big mess like this.  You deserve a little better than that.”  Benjamin pinches his cheek but the usual smile doesn’t spread across his face at the act.  Homelander’s drained.  He’s got nothing left inside but the hollowness of his own misery and the weak shimmer of hope sown by his little spider.

So he lets Ben carry him through the halls like some sort of wounded child who’d skinned their knees and couldn’t do it himself.  Not that there was anyone of consequence in the tower left to see it.  Not after he’d given the order to do away with them.

Another thing Benjamin begged him not to do.

He’s like a compliant mannequin as Ben strips him of his suit and all of the accompanying dust it’d gathered.  He expects to be kicked to the couch by the time he’s sporting just his briefs, but exile is not what fate has in store for him.  Instead, he gets to be tucked under fuzzy blankets and held close.  Benjamin’s breath kisses the nape of his neck and an arm slings over his midsection.

In his own arms, he still clings to Ryan’s bag.  He can’t take his eyes off the photo of him and his son that sits atop the nightstand.  He’s got the boy’s cheeks pinched between his gloved fingers, both of them smiling brightly.  In his hands, Ryan holds the carrier with their milkshakes.  He remembers the moment Ben took that photo.  How happy they all were…

“I texted him.” Ben murmurs.  “Let him know we’re here for when he gets back.”

He pulls the bag closer.

“Listen t’me.”

Homelander’s gut drops for the millionth time.  What could possibly be coming?  The end of their relationship?  Reprimands he can’t escape?  Will it hurt?

“We need to have a serious talk later about everything, okay?”

Oh god…

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, but I need– we got a lot to work on, y’know?”  

He thanks whatever god there may be for the clarification.

“And I need you to understand something.  I love you.  But that doesn’t mean you can hurt me all the time.”  Ben’s voice cracks with cries that threaten to spill. “I don’t ever wanna get to the point where I can’t come back to you.  I fuckin’ love you, but I’m scared you’re gonna push me too far away someday and I can’t–”

The arm around his body curls tighter.

“I can’t imagine anything else but you.  And I don’t want to.  I know you’re trying, and I know it’s hard and it’s all gone tits up these last few days– that this was all your dream, but please…” 

Ben’s face presses to his nape and he can feel the wetness of tears.  Those are his fault, too.  The pit of shame in his gut opens wider. The guilt grows stronger.

“Please save room for us in your dream.”