#and I guess you can only use it for two weeks at a time?
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Everything's so damn dark when the blindfold slips off that for a second she can't see a thing.
Don't panic. Don't scream. Don't hurt the baby.
Something groans at her feet and she startles straight into the pipe behind her head.
"'lo?" A voice asks, familiar enough to give her pause, and she wonders for a moment if this is a joke, if this is a trick, if this - "s'there?"
His words are slurred. A concussion, maybe, then. Great. Biggest man she knows and he's gonna be a useless pile of puke to her.
Don't panic, Maddie reminds herself, and then she starts giggling.
"Tommy?"
He groans an affirmative.
"Oh good. I feel a lot better about getting overpowered, now."
A hand grabs for her ankle and Maddie bites back a scream. It's Tommy's hand, big and warm and - fully unbound, which feels a little unfair. "Cunt drugged me," he says, then pauses. Squeezes her ankle. "Sorry for the language."
"No, it's, uh - I think it's warranted this time."
Maddie can't remember exactly how it'd happened to her. Had she been hit? Is she injured? She does a mental tally. Her lip feels swollen. Nose and eyes feel fine, though, so maybe she bit it? Neck, shoulders, all good. She's been bending her elbows and wrists just fine, she just doesn't have the leverage to do anything about the zip ties keeping her affixed to the probably pipe behind her. Hips, legs, knees. She wiggles her toes and in the darkness Tommy chuckles. "Everything accounted for?"
He must have done his own check while she was working through hers. She can hear him rustling around. "I'm still incredibly mad at you, but it's nice to hear your voice," she says, and Tommy goes still. "Tommy? All good?"
"...why are you mad at me?"
"Like you don't know?" Oh. Actually maybe she is more mad than she is glad. "You broke my brother's heart, idiot. I don't have any more room in my entire house for the coping mechanism he's come up with." She kicks, a little. Tommy grunts and shifts. "I hope that hit something painful and non-essential to our escape."
"He's - he'll be fine."
"What exactly is your definition of fine? Because it's been a few months and he's still bringing me baked goods on a bi-weekly basis."
"Bi-weekly like -."
"Do not get pedantic on me, Kinard. Two times a week. What's your status? Moving parts all still moving?"
"I think my balls have taken a vacation, but that's more a reflection on how terrifying you are than on this current situation."
Flippant. Sarcasm in the face of Maddie trying to get a full picture. Buck had called him funny and charming. Maddie's second kick doesn't land, but only because he's got a hand wrapped around her foot. "Once we're out of here, I'm gonna punch you in the face."
He hums. "For the balls comment, or the cunt thing?"
Maddie shrugs. Remembers that he can't see it. "Which part of 'broke my brother's heart' are you not getting?"
He sounds like he's moving gingerly. She can hear heavy bulky fabric rustle and she wonders if he's in three layers like usual. She could use something warm. "I - figured he'd be over it by now."
Maddie snorts. If she had to make a guess, Tommy glowers at the noise. "Dumbass."
And then it hits her. "The cunt? Skinny, brunette, pretty? Kind of...angular face?"
Tommy hums and takes her weight as she tries to kick again. "Sounds like her."
"Oh, Buck's gonna be pissed and embarrassed. She's rebound attempt number two."
Tommy's silent long enough that Maddie has to check in. He hums, and goes back to silence. "Rebound attempt?"
"If you hadn't noticed, we've actually been kidnapped, so maybe I can save your relationship afterwards?"
"I think she was trying to kill me," Tommy admits. "Otherwise why am I unbound in this shitty Saw knockoff?"
Maddie feels some extra pieces dropping into place. Oh, Buck is never gonna live this down actually.
"Can you overpower her if she comes in?"
"If she's not quick to try to drug me again. If I can figure out where the fucking door is. If -."
"A yes or no is fine. Pretty sure she's the Bay Butcher, if that helps you answer."
His pause is long. "...maybe," he says, and accepts the kick this time without block or protest.
#bucktommy#bucktommy fic#tevan fic#kind of#maddie & tommy#lol apparently abduction fic is my new muse
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On the edge
Alpha Jayce x omega reader
Warnings: AOB, light swearing, feral alpha, intimacy, angst, Spoilers? Fated mates
Jayce returns changed from whatever he was in. Changed and feral with animalistic needs over glowing him
When a medical officer came to your door you were truely not prepared for what you saw. They had timidly ask you to follow them without any other explanation and you were confused and worried afraid one of your family members had been injured but seeing him, in a white room with a simple mattress on the floor and nothing else broke your heart. When Jayce disappeared you didn’t know what to do, his mother heart broken, Viktor gone, Mel gone half the council dead, Caitlyn turning into head enforcer, and you stuck sitting in a lab with neither Jayce or Viktor by your side. You were by Jayce’s side the whole time Viktor was in that strange case of whatever it was, the hextech fused into this giant healing bath almost. You didn’t know what to do watching the alpha loose part of his small close pack, his best friend and then he disappeared went into the hextech core room and never came back with either of his companions till now.
You stared at the alpha, his jaw so tense you were afraid he’d break teeth. His teeth were bared and he was panting heavily hands fisted by his side. You see his bracelet stone now fused into his skin, you see the wolf untamed hair on his head the beard he’d grown, what happened to him?
“We’ve been unable to reach him” the medical officer says beside you and you barely register their words eyes wide mouth slightly part as you stare at Jayce. The once clean golden boy, turned into this.
“We’ve tried everything. We did a mate test on him” you freeze at those words. You half figured it was Mel, but she’s gone too. A mate test was a pricey test you could get if you wish to find your fated, though most people left it down to chance but now it was harder and harder to find one so people gave up while scientists made a new way to find them.
“Mel?” You ask and they shake their making you frown.
“Who?” You ask frowning.
“You my lady” the medical officer says and you frown how the hell were you his mate? You’ve known him your whole life and nothing?
“That’s not possible” you whisper and the officer gives a small sad smile.
“I guess you want me to- go in there?” You ask gesturing to his white room.
“It would be dangerous. he cannot see us through the screen so we will turn it on so he can” the officer waves a hand to the security camera and the alphas body flinches staring at the now two way window. His eyes are the same but different somehow wild, untamed with hunger maybe. You don’t know what to do as he looks to the officer and growls like some wild beast and charges at the glass fists pounding against it making you flinch and step back. He doesn’t notice you too busy with this wild look at the officer.
“Few officers will be around him due to this behaviour I have chosen to stay but he doesn’t like that” the officer comments and you nod.
“Right” you mutter.
Nothing changed for a week, he never looks at you only whoever is beside you having some bad memory and rage towards them. You’re starting to think he doesn’t know who you are and your heart breaks. You’ve slowly come of your suppressors as the officers request, it took a few weeks to adjust but now you feel semi normal as you head back to the facility. You hate the looks you get seeing as natural born omegas are few to none around here in the upper city. You look at Jayce in his room he’s sitting on his bed staring at the ceiling a muscle twitching every now and then his knuckles are bruised and bloodied as always and he looks worse, hollow eyes with big dark eye bags. You hesitate at the door looking to the camera as the door buzzes and unlocks. You head inside seeing Jayce up instantly and snarling. The door seals behind you and you stand very still unsure how to approach or say him in this state. He eyes you and you eye him for what feels like forever before he begins to walk over your whole body tense as his eyes stay on yours intensely before he’s a foot away. You frown at his changed scent missing his old one.
“Jay-“ before you can even finish you’re pressed against the door the wind knocked out of you, your arms pinned above your head and hot breath on your neck. You’re frozen in fear never had him be this rough or physical before he always gave the best hugs but he wasn’t an overly touchy person. He’s panting harshly and he’s overly warm almost feverish as his hands grip your wrists tightly and his head rests by your neck. He’s too close but not close enough suddenly your omega senses already haywire from coming off suppressants. He lifts his head up eyes hard and narrowed as he stares at you before something flicks on them. Recognition? Realisation? You don’t know but his eyes soften his hands loosen and his shoulders drop as tears well in his eyes and he mutters your name. Relief floods you like tidal wave and you almost want to cry too as Jayce lets your wrists go wraps his arms around your waist and presses himself impossibly close. His face is buried in your neck and you wrap your arms around his neck crying silently. He breathes heavily as he cry’s his strong arms tight around your waist like he’s afraid to let go.
“You’re ok” you whisper taking a shaky breath, hand brushing against his neck and through his long hair. He shakes his head and you frown trying to pull back but he doesn’t let go holding you tighter instead.
“Jayce- I can’t breathe” you say and he relaxes his arms but doesn’t let go you take in a breath just running your fingers over the base of his skull and down his neck and back up. He twitches sometimes and it makes you worry but after a while he lets go wiped his eyes and looks at you. You watch though as something glazes in his eyes like a shade and he’s tense and on edge again jaw clenched and he glares and snarls storming away from you. You stare in confusion as the alpha sits down and stares at the ceiling again, the door buzzes and unlocks and you slip out still confused.
“What was that?” You ask the medical officer.
“Something happened to him, made him feral” she says.
“Feral?” You say shocked there’s hardly been any feral alphas in the upper city.
“This is the first time he’s been out of it” she comments tapping on her holotablet.
“How do we get him back?” You ask frowning.
“It’s a hard process, we can try the subtle way or the medical way” she comments.
“Subtle way?” You ask.
“We coax him out by doing daily things, normal things, trying to reteach him I guess you could say, you’d be our main candidate for him to see” she explains.
“And the medical way?” You whisper.
“We operate on him, send electrical currents to rewrite his brain” she says like it’s no big deal and you flinch but nod.
“Subtle way, has his mother been by?” You ask.
“Yes” she says simply and you figure you won’t get much more than that from her as you nod, thank her and leave the facility. You walk to Ms Talis home knock on the door you haven’t spoken to her in a while.
“Oh” she says as she opens the door seeing you saying your name before urging you inside. She makes you tea and you both sit down at the table.
“I saw Jayce today” you say quietly unsure of how to step. A deep sadness etched her features and she nods.
“How is he?” She asks.
“He recognised me” you whisper and she jolts and looks to you.
“I went into the room today, it was brief for five minutes he didn’t say anything though before he went back-“ you hate saying the word feral, such a barbaric term. You watch as Jayces mums eyes fill with tears and you give her hand a comforting squeeze.
“We’ll get your boy back Ms Talis” you whisper to her in promise.
Next Part ->
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Waiting Room | Part Two
Bucky x reader (as always )
Word Count: 5.7k
Warnings: Angst i guess sorta
A/N: So this is the next part to waiting room that was suppose to be just a One Shot but in easily convinced lol and I didn't really have a direction for the story to go in and this is where I landed, so hope you enjoy. There will be maybe another part or two so I can wrap it up. 
The night was cool as you walked away from the compound, the silence almost soothing despite the ache in your chest. You hadn’t made any plans, hadn’t packed anything more than a single bag. You just knew you couldn’t stay in that place anymore—not with the memories pressing in around you, with the sense that every hallway, every room, was echoing with what used to be between you and Bucky.
The city lights were ahead of you, casting faint glows against the dark sky, and for the first time, you felt completely unmoored. Your thoughts tangled in every step you took, as if each pace was a step away from the life you had built with the Avengers, and more painfully, from Bucky.
Hours passed as you wandered the city, barely aware of where you were going. You ended up at a small motel on the edge of town, paying cash for a room that barely had any light, just a bed with thin sheets and an old TV on a dresser. The emptiness of the room felt like it mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.
You set your bag down on the bed, letting out a sigh as you sank onto the edge, staring at the wall as thoughts of Bucky washed over you in waves. Images of him smiling, his quiet laughter, the way he’d hold your hand when no one else was around—all of it clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.
Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts to his name, thumb hovering over it. You knew he wasn’t waiting for your call; he’d made that clear. But part of you, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, wanted him to pick up, to tell you this was all just a mistake.
Instead, you tossed the phone aside, burying your face in your hands as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to do anything that would make this feeling go away. The anger, the heartbreak, the deep sense of loss—the betrayal it all felt like it was crushing you.
The next morning, you took a breath and tried to piece together a plan. If Bucky wanted nothing to do with you, if the team was moving on without you, maybe it was time for you to do the same. You didn’t know how, but you’d figure it out. And maybe, someday, the memories would hurt a little less.
Days turned into weeks, and you managed to stay under the radar. You took on a few odd jobs here and there, avoiding anywhere that felt remotely familiar. You kept your phone turned off most days, keeping a low profile as you tried to settle into a new rhythm.
But at night, alone in that tiny motel room, everything came flooding back. The emptiness, the loss of the life you’d left behind, and the hollow ache that reminded you of the man you’d once thought would be by your side forever. You didn’t wanna feel anything at all anymore.
The motel was your base for now, a temporary haven between jobs. You knew eventually you would have to move but for now the dull hum of a broken fluorescent light above the bed was your only company most nights. You’d buried your old life, the Avengers, and everything you once fought for. Your existence was pared down to survival and the cold efficiency of violence.
You used old contacts from your past—people you’d hoped never to need again. Mercenaries, informants, shadowy figures from the underworld who didn’t ask questions as long as you delivered. And you did. Each contract was a blur, each mission a mechanical task you completed without hesitation or remorse. Slowly you were becoming less of who you were and more of what you were supposed to be before him.
Your skills made you valuable. Assassinations, high-stakes retrievals, contract killings—you took them all. It was work, and it kept you moving. You didn’t feel anything anymore, not the fear, not the guilt, not even the satisfaction of a clean job. You became a ghost, slipping in and out of places, leaving behind a trail of red.
Every kill was precise, methodical. You didn’t stop to consider who your targets were or what they’d done. The moral compass you once clung to was shattered, left in pieces back at the compound. You moved like a machine, your thoughts dulled by the monotony of violence. The whispers of self-destruction were your only companion now.
Weeks blurred into months, the days bleeding into each other. You didn’t follow the news, didn’t check your phone, didn’t want to know what was happening in the world you’d left behind. You didn’t see the press conference Tony had to hold, standing stoic as reporters peppered him with questions about your sudden disappearance.
“Agent Y/N has taken a leave of absence,” he’d said, his voice cool, calculated. “For personal reasons.”
That was all he gave them. No details, no promises of your return. When the questions turned toward your mental health, your stability, Tony’s jaw tightened, and he ended the briefing. Behind closed doors, the team was scrambling, doing everything they could to track you down. But you were a ghost, and ghosts didn’t want to be found.
In the quiet moments between jobs, you sat in the shadows of your rented room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of your kills didn’t register anymore; it was just a tally in your head, numbers climbing higher each week. You didn’t care who you were working for, as long as they paid and kept you busy. The emptiness was consuming, but you welcomed it. It was better than the pain.
You stopped dreaming. Stopped thinking about him, about any of them. The warmth of Bucky’s touch, the safety of his arms around you—it was a memory you refused to let surface. You buried it deep, alongside every other part of yourself that once cared, once felt.
When you weren’t working, you spent your time in dingy bars or cheap motels, drowning in silence. The weight of your solitude was your only companion. You avoided mirrors, avoided looking at the hollow shell you’d become. It didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t matter anymore.
Back at the compound, things weren’t much better. The team was holding together by a thread, every day marked by your absence. They didn’t talk about it openly, but everyone felt the weight of the void you’d left behind. Tony buried himself in his work, throwing up defensive sarcasm whenever your name was mentioned. Steve was more reserved, quiet, his concern etched into every line of his face, his thoughts a constant whirl of guilt, of what if, he was your leader, your friend, your family he should have done better. Natasha, Clint and Sam worked tirelessly to trace your steps, but you were always one step ahead, your trail going cold each time they got close.
Bucky, though—Bucky was a different story. He was unraveling. The stoic front he tried to maintain crumbled more each day. He’d catch glimpses of your room, still left untouched, and it felt like a dagger in his chest. Every lead that turned up empty, every mission he went on without you, only deepened the chasm of guilt and regret.
He didn’t show it around the others, but late at night, when the compound was quiet, he’d sit in the dark, gripping his dog tags as though they could anchor him. He replayed every moment, every word he’d said to you, the pain in your eyes when he told you it was “for the better.” He’d thought he was protecting you, sparing you from a life tethered to his darkness. But all he’d done was push you into your own.
Meanwhile, you continued to slip further into the shadows, your humanity fading with each passing day. The girl who once fought alongside Earth’s mightiest heroes was gone. Now, you were just a weapon, a tool for hire, drowning in blood and regret.
And you didn’t care if you ever came back.
The common room was silent, the atmosphere suffocating. The team sat around the dining table, their plates mostly untouched. It hadn’t been the same since you left—no, since you vanished almost a year ago. Conversations were hollow, laughter a distant memory. Every mission, every meeting, carried the weight of your absence.
Bucky sat at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate, though he hadn’t touched his food. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the clink of utensils against ceramic as Sam and Natasha picked at their meals. Steve was deep in thought, brows furrowed, while Tony sipped at a cold cup of coffee, his usual bravado long since dulled.
Suddenly, Tony’s tech pad beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read the data. Without a word, he stood abruptly and made his way to the common room, his pace quick and determined.
“Guys,” he said, voice sharp as he entered, the pad clutched tightly in his hand. The urgency in his tone snapped everyone to attention. “I think we’ve got something.”
The team immediately straightened, all eyes on him. Bucky’s heart lurched in his chest, a flicker of hope and dread surging through him.
“What is it?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tense.
Tony didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tapped on the pad, and a hologram appeared above the table—a blurry snapshot of surveillance footage. The image was grainy, taken in some dimly lit warehouse, but there was no mistaking the figure in the frame.
It was you.
Your hair was shorter, your face leaner and paler than they remembered. Blood spattered your cheeks and clothes, your eyes sharp and cold. You looked like a ghost, hollowed out and deadly, a shadow of the person they once knew.
The room went deadly quiet, the weight of the image sinking in. Natasha leaned forward, her jaw tightening. Sam cursed under his breath, while Steve’s grip on the edge of the table tightened until his knuckles turned white.
“Is there video footage?” Steve asked, his voice low, barely concealing the mix of hope and fear in his tone.
Tony nodded grimly. “FRIDAY, play the video.”
The hologram shifted, and the grainy footage began to play. The scene unfolded in a dingy, run-down warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. Armed men moved through the space, clearly preparing for some sort of deal. But then you appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a wraith.
You were fast, efficient, and terrifyingly calm. Without hesitation, you took out each man with precision—gunshots, blades, hand-to-hand combat. It didn’t matter how many came at you; they all fell. The blood spattered across your face only made your pale skin look more ghostly, more detached from humanity.
What shook them most wasn’t the violence—it was you. Your expression never wavered, your eyes cold and emotionless. It was as if you were on autopilot, a machine programmed to kill. Even when a bullet whizzed past your face, barely missing you and sending a strand of hair flying, you didn’t flinch. You simply moved on to the next target, cutting through them like they were nothing.
Bucky’s stomach churned as he watched. His hands gripped the edge of the table, his breathing shallow. He could barely process what he was seeing. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the person he’d loved, the person he’d pushed away to protect. This was someone else entirely—a hollow shell, deadly and unrecognizable.
When the video ended, the silence in the room was deafening. Tony rubbed a hand over his face, his usual sarcasm replaced with grim resolve. “That’s the most recent hit we’ve got. It’s from a week ago.”
Steve was the first to speak, his voice strained. “She’s not just surviving out there. She’s… she’s lost herself.”
Natasha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “She’s always been a fighter, but this? She’s not fighting for anything anymore. She’s just… existing.”
Sam shook his head, his voice low. “She didn’t even blink when that bullet came at her. It’s like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.”
Bucky pushed himself back from the table, standing abruptly. “We need to find her, I got to find her” he said, his voice rough, barely containing the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “Now.”
Steve nodded, his resolve hardening. “Agreed. We’ve waited long enough.”
Tony tapped on his pad, pulling up a map. “I’ve got the warehouse location. It’s a start, but if she’s smart—and we all know she is—she’s already moved on.”
Natasha stood, her eyes locked on the map. “Then we track her. We use everything we’ve got.”
Bucky’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The footage replayed in his head, the cold, detached look in your eyes, the way you moved without hesitation or fear. He knew he’d pushed you away to protect you, but now… now it felt like he’d only sent you spiraling further into darkness.
And he wasn’t sure if he could bring you back. But he’d die trying.
The hologram of the warehouse lingered in the air, casting a dull blue glow that accentuated the tension in the room. Tony continued scrolling through surveillance feeds, his movements precise but edged with frustration. No one spoke at first, the weight of your absence hanging over them like a storm cloud.
Sam finally broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Where is she even finding out about these deals? She’s not exactly walking into a coffee shop and picking up intel from strangers.”
Clint, seated at the far end of the table, narrowed his eyes, his mind already turning over possibilities. “Maybe old contacts?” His gaze shifted to Natasha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and her face was set in a mask of unreadable tension.
She didn’t look at him immediately. When she did, her eyes were distant, filled with memories she rarely allowed to surface. “Yeah,” she said quietly, almost reluctantly. “That’s likely.”
Clint raised an eyebrow. “Someone from your Red Room days?”
Natasha hesitated, her jaw tightening as she nodded. “Before SHIELD. Before the Avengers.” Her voice was cold, clinical, the tone of someone recounting a story they wished wasn’t their own. “There’s a guy… a fixer. He operated out of Eastern Europe, connected to black market arms deals, high-profile hits, anything illegal you can think of. If she’s working for him now…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.
Sam leaned forward, frowning. “Anything you’d like to share with the class, Nat? Because this feels like something we should’ve known before.”
Natasha exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering toward Clint before settling on the table. “Before SHIELD, before Clint and I found her… she was lost. When she escaped the Red Room, she had nothing—no resources, no one to turn to. This guy took her in, gave her jobs, gave her a reason to keep moving. But it wasn’t a life. It was survival, barely.”
Clint leaned in, his voice lower now, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile truths being unearthed. “She was in deep. Mercenary work, hits, anything he wanted. She carried everything she owned in a backpack. She was running on scraps and rage. And the person she was back then compared to the one we know now…” He shook his head. “Night and day.”
Natasha’s expression darkened. “She was like a machine. On autopilot. He kept her that way with modified Red Room mind control.” Her voice softened, though her words cut like a blade. “Not enough to erase her, but just enough to suppress doubt, hesitation. Enough to make her compliant.”
The room fell into stunned silence. Bucky, standing slightly apart from the others, stared at the hologram of your face, his jaw clenched. His chest ached, a sick mixture of guilt and disbelief twisting in his gut.
Tony’s voice broke the quiet. “That wasn’t in her file.”
Natasha smirked bitterly. “Of course it wasn’t. Fury redacted it. He thought it would protect her if it ever came up.”
Clint’s voice dropped further, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. “When Nat and I got her out, it was like detoxing someone from a drug. She fought us every step of the way. We had to tie her down to keep her from running back to him.”
Natasha nodded grimly. “She didn’t sleep, didn’t eat unless we forced her to. She was reciting mission protocols in her sleep like she was still under their control. It took months to bring her back to herself. And even then…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Even then, it was fragile.”
Steve’s eyes shifted to Bucky, whose hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Buck, did she ever tell you any of this?”
Bucky’s shoulders sagged slightly, his face shadowed with pain. He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “No. Not like that.” He paused, swiping a hand over his face as he blinked away tears he couldn’t stop. “She… she never pushed me to talk about my past. She let me open up in my own time, my own way.” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought she’d do the same eventually. And she did, bits and pieces. But it was always vague, like she didn’t want me to see just how bad it was.”
He looked back at the hologram, the image of your face burning into his mind. “She risked her life for me, over and over again. And I didn’t even know the extent of what she’d been through.” His voice cracked. “She deserved better than that.”
“And now,” Natasha said softly, her eyes fixed on him, “she’s back in it.”
Bucky’s head dropped, his fists clenching as he whispered, “Maybe worse this time. She’s not just surviving—she’s destroying herself. And it’s my fault.”
“Buck,” Steve said gently, but Bucky shook his head.
“I thought I was protecting her,” Bucky said, his voice louder now, trembling with emotion. “I thought pushing her away would keep her safe. But all I did was push her right back into the darkness she fought so hard to escape.”
Natasha’s voice softened further, though it carried an edge of warning. “If she’s with him again, he won’t hesitate to use that mind control on her. And if he has… there’s no telling how far she’ll go before she burns out.”
Tony paced, rubbing his temple. “We need to find this guy. Shut him down. If she’s working for him, she won’t stop until someone makes her.”
Steve straightened, his face hardening with resolve. “Then we find him. Find out where he’s operating now.”
Clint nodded, pulling out his tablet. “I can dig up some old intel. He moved a lot, but if he’s still running the same kind of jobs, I can find a pattern.”
Natasha glanced at Bucky, her tone quieter now. “We find him, and we find her. But she’s not coming back willingly, Bucky.”
Bucky lifted his head, his eyes dark and resolute. “I don’t care how far gone she is. She’s still in there, and I’m not giving up on her.” His voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “She has to be.”
Tony tapped the screen again, zooming in on the hologram of your face. “Then we better move fast. Because from the looks of it, she’s already gone too far.”
The team exchanged grim looks, the unspoken weight of what lay ahead settling over them. For Bucky, though, there was no hesitation. No doubt. He would bring you back, no matter what it took.
The quinjet hummed softly as it cut through the night sky, a stark contrast to the tension filling the cabin. The team was locked in silent focus, each member mentally preparing for what they might find at their destination. Natasha sat at the controls, her face unreadable, though her grip on the steering controls was tighter than usual. Clint was beside her, reviewing maps and old intel on the fixer, his expression grim.
Bucky sat alone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His metal hand flexed and clenched rhythmically, the only outward sign of the storm raging inside him. His thoughts churned relentlessly, replaying every moment since the breakup, every mission where he’d chosen to keep his distance, every chance he had to reach out and didn’t.
Steve, seated across from him, finally broke the silence. “We’ll get her back, Buck,” he said quietly, his voice steady but reassuring. “She’s still in there. We’ll bring her home.”
Bucky didn’t look up, his jaw tightening. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “And what if we don’t?” His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s, and they were filled with a raw vulnerability that Steve hadn’t seen in years. “What if she’s too far gone, Steve? I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe by pushing her away. But all I did was shove her right back into the darkness.”
Steve sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You did what you thought was right. You were trying to protect her from getting hurt.”
Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now she’s out there, risking her life every day because I made her believe she wasn’t worth saving.” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t bring her back. If she’s too far gone…Steve if we cant get her back….”
Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’s not gone, Buck. She’s still in there. We’ve seen her come back from worse, and she’s stronger than you think.”
Bucky’s eyes fell back to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. “I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”
Natasha’s voice cut through the cabin, calm but commanding. “We’re coming up on the last known location of the fixer. This isn’t a guarantee, but it’s our best shot.” She glanced back at Bucky, her expression softer than usual. “You’ll get your chance to fix this, Barnes. But you have to be ready. She’s not the same person you knew.”
Bucky nodded, his resolve hardening. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to.”
The quinjet began its descent, the lights of a small, industrial city coming into view below. Natasha expertly landed on the outskirts of the city, near an abandoned factory that matched the coordinates from her old intel. The team geared up quickly, their movements efficient and quiet.
As they approached the factory, Clint pulled up the blueprints on his tablet. “Looks like a standard setup—main entrance, back exit, and a few access points on the roof. If he’s still using this place, he’ll have guards posted. We’ll have to go in quiet.”
Natasha nodded. “I’ll take point with Clint. Steve, Bucky, cover the rear. Sam, Tony you’re our eyes in the sky.”
Bucky didn’t say a word as they moved into position, his focus entirely on the task ahead. His grip on his rifle was tight, his breathing controlled. But inside, his mind raced with what they might find.
As they entered the factory, the air was thick with dust and the faint smell of oil and metal. The sound of distant machinery hummed through the walls, but the place seemed otherwise deserted.
Clint scanned the area with his thermal scope, whispering, “Two guards up ahead, near the control room.”
Natasha nodded, and within moments, the guards were taken out silently, their bodies crumpling to the floor without a sound. The team moved deeper into the facility, tension building with every step.
Finally, they reached the main floor—a vast, open space filled with crates and scattered equipment. And there, in the center of the room, was a man seated at a desk, his back to them.
Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s him.”
The fixer turned slowly, as if he’d been expecting them. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He smiled, a cold, predatory grin. “Well, well. The Avengers. What an unexpected pleasure.”
Bucky stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?”
The fixer chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Ah, you must mean out little shadow, our ghost. Quite the asset, isn’t she? A real work of art, that one.”
Bucky’s fists clenched, and Steve put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Where is she?” Steve demanded.
The fixer sighed, feigning boredom. “She comes and goes as she pleases. I simply provide the opportunities. She’s quite effective, you know. Doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question. Just like old times.”
Natasha stepped forward, her gun trained on him. “What have you done to her?”
The fixer’s smile widened. “Only what she wanted. She came to me, broken and desperate. I gave her purpose, focus. She’s free now, free from all those messy emotions that held her back.”
Bucky’s voice shook with rage. “You didn’t free her. You turned her into a weapon.”
The fixer shrugged, unbothered. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”
Bucky stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. “And where’s that?”
The fixer’s grin faltered for the first time. “You’ll never find her. She doesn’t want to be found.”
Bucky’s eyes burned with fury, but before he could move, Natasha pulled the trigger, shooting the fixer in the leg. He cried out, clutching his wound as he glared up at her.
“Where. Is. She?” Natasha repeated, her voice ice-cold.
The fixer coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he chuckled weakly. “She’s already gone. But you’ll find her soon enough. If she wants you to.”
The quinjet touched down silently on the outskirts of the city. The team disembarked quickly, weapons drawn and senses on high alert. The abandoned office building loomed ahead, its shattered windows and graffiti-covered walls a testament to its long-abandoned state. Inside, though, it was anything but empty.
Tony’s voice was a low murmur as he held up his tech pad, showing the heat signatures inside. “Multiple targets on the top floor. Armed, moving in formation. Y/N’s in there, too.”
“Looks like another hit,” Natasha said grimly, her eyes scanning the building. “She’s taking out another crew.”
Bucky clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “We’re not letting her walk out of here alone.”
Natasha nodded, her voice steady. “Stay focused. We get in, neutralize the situation, and bring her back.”
The team moved as one, slipping into the building and making their way up the crumbling stairwell. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps echoed from above, the tension rising with every step. When they reached the top floor, they could hear it clearly now—the sharp commands, the clink of weapons, and then, suddenly, a scream cut short.
Tony raised his hand, signaling them to stop. He brought up the thermal view on his pad. “She’s already started.”
Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as they crept toward the open doorway. From their vantage point, they could see you in the center of the room, moving with deadly precision. You were a blur of efficiency, taking out the armed men one by one, each movement calculated and lethal. Blood spattered across the floor and walls, and your face, but you didn’t falter.
The last two men in the room scrambled to take aim at you, but you were faster. You disarmed one with a quick twist of his wrist, driving a knife into his chest without so much as a flicker of emotion. The final man backed away, terror in his eyes as he aimed his gun at you, his hands trembling.
Before he could pull the trigger, you grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. His struggles were futile, and the sound of his choked gasps filled the air.
“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice rang out, desperate and raw, cutting through the chaos.
You froze, your grip tightening on the man’s throat as your eyes snapped to Bucky. For a moment, the room seemed to stand still. The team watched, their weapons drawn but hesitating, waiting to see what you would do.
You stared at Bucky, your face blank, eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, and without breaking eye contact with him, you snapped the man’s neck with a sickening crack. His lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Bucky took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Doll,” he said again, his voice trembling. “What are you doing?”
You stood there, blood splattered across your face, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Your eyes flicked over the rest of the team—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Tony—all standing ready, but hesitant to make a move.
The room was suffocatingly silent, the air thick with tension as you stood amidst the bodies of the men you’d just killed. You looked at them—at all of them—as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Your once-bright eyes were now cold, lifeless, your pupils blown wide, a sharp contrast to the dim light of the room.
Sam was the first to break the silence. “Her pupils are huge,” he said, his voice low, uneasy. “That’s not normal.”
Natasha’s face tightened. She took a step forward, speaking in Russian, her tone steady but filled with quiet authority. “Ты идешь со мной, младшая сестра. (You’re coming back with me, little sister.)” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Ты сделаешь это легко или трудно? (Are you going to make this easy or hard?)”
You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you nudged the last man’s lifeless body with your foot, shoving him out of your way with a detached, almost bored expression. Then, finally, you spoke, your voice flat, emotionless.
“ Трудно(Hard).”
Steve sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Are we really doing this? All of us, against her?”
Natasha didn’t break her gaze from you. “No. Just me.” She reached for her baton, switching it on with a low hum of electricity. “Let me try.”
Clint, standing off to the side, silently switched the arrow in his quiver to one tipped with a sedative, his fingers steady but ready. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were locked on you, his movements precise and deliberate like he’d done this before, which of course he has.
Natasha stepped forward slowly, her baton raised but not yet striking. She muttered under her breath, almost to herself, “Дежавю. (Déjà vu.)” Then, in a softer tone, she added in Russian, “Я тебя люблю. (I love you.)”
The words didn’t even register. You moved without hesitation, launching yourself at her with lethal precision. Your first strike was a blur, and Natasha barely had time to block it with her baton. But you were faster, stronger, and more relentless than she remembered. Within seconds, you had her on the defensive, your blows landing harder and faster than she could counter.
Natasha grunted as you landed a kick to her side, sending her stumbling. “Something’s off,” she groaned, clutching her ribs as she stood. “You’re stronger than before.”
Bucky had been standing on the sidelines, his fists clenched, watching you tear through Natasha with ease. His heart broke with every blow you delivered. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, his voice cracking slightly.
“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
You turned toward him, your face still expressionless, and in one swift motion, you pulled a knife from your belt and hurled it at him. Bucky’s reflexes kicked in, and he caught the blade mid-air, but the force of the throw pushed him back a step.
He dropped the knife, his hands raised in a defensive posture. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “But I’m not letting you hurt anyone else.”
You didn’t hesitate, launching yourself at him. Bucky blocked every strike, his movements precise, never once retaliating. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you gave him no choice but to defend himself.
“Steve!” Bucky shouted over his shoulder as he deflected another of your attacks. “It’s the serum! She’s got some kind of super-soldier serum!”
Steve’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his shield. Sam glanced at Clint, who still had his bow drawn. “Will that sedative arrow even work on her if she’s got the serum?”
Clint shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
He loosed the arrow, and it flew toward you, but you moved faster than expected, catching it mid-air. The tip still grazed your arm, injecting just enough of the sedative to make you falter slightly. You wobbled for a second, your movements sluggish, but it wasn’t enough to stop you. You turned the arrow back around, flinging it directly at Clint with lethal precision.
Steve’s shield flew through the air just in time, blocking the arrow before it could hit Clint. The sound of metal striking the arrowhead echoed through the room, but before anyone could make another move, Tony stepped forward, his repulsor glowing.
“This is enough,” Tony said, his voice cold and decisive. He raised his hand, preparing to knock you out.
But before he could fire, Natasha, now back on her feet, grabbed a heavy metal pole from the wreckage around them. She moved quickly, her face set with grim determination.
You turned back toward Bucky, ready to swing at him again, your eyes still filled with that cold, mechanical focus. But Natasha was faster. She swung the pole with all her strength, aiming for the side of your head.
The impact was immediate. Your eyes widened briefly before your body went limp, collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.
The room was silent except for the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing. Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he gently cradled your head.
Natasha dropped the pole, her chest heaving as she looked down at you, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. “Я сожалею, сестра. (I’m sorry, sister.),” she whispered softly.
Steve stepped forward, his shield still in hand. “Let’s get her back to the jet. We’ve got work to do.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x y/n#sebastian stan x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes angst#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x reader angst#bucky barnes au#bucky fanfic#james barnes x you#james barnes imagine#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky banres#bucky barnes x avenger!reader
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Hey guys, I've been seeing another rift going on in the fandom regarding TGG and TIG characters, so I've decided to make a statement that can hopefully make things more cohesive.
I understand that not everyone likes the new spin-off and honestly, I'm considering just stopping after GU. Personally, I don't have anything against the characters of TGG but my problem is that they sound too much like our old mains. However, that's not their fault. It's the author's. There's nothing wrong with JLB wanting to expand the TIG universe but it is problematic when you are repeating the same character arcs of the old characters that are also present and interacting with these new mains. The problem that we face is the fact while even in The Naturals there are similar characters, they are divided by different series. However, that is not going on here with TIG and TGG. TGG is a continuation of TIG and our TIG characters are still present. Heck, one of our old mains is a player and a love interest here to one of the new mains. And therein lies the issue. When you have a connected series, it's important to have distinguished characters with different voices, not carbon copies.
What I expected for TGG characters was that she would move from the character tropes we've seen already in the series and come up with new ones. I mean, come on, she's a psychology major, we bring that up so often but what's the point when she keeps going in circles and never brings up anything new? I pointed a lot of this out pre-read because I already correctly guessed where this was going within just a few pages of reveal. Don't get me wrong, if she wanted to, she could do it but it doesn't feel like she has new plans or plots. Be honest with yourselves and don't just praise because she's your favorite author. You can be a reader, a fan, and a respectful critic all at the same time. Don't lower your expectations just because they can't deliver every time.
The trouble is that when you go back to TFG, in the acknowledgments, she herself wrote she wasn't sure there was going to be a third book. And now look, suddenly two books were announced a month or two after she released the last book of the trilogy which introduced our mains and not the most fashionably. I do believe she had ideas but I don't think they were the best fleshed out. You have to realize that just reading TGG, how many of you recognized the obvious plots, the romantic subplots, the character arcs, and even the semi-hidden plots just getting to the halfway point? And how many of you said, hey, wait a minute, we've had this plotline before? You did, didn't you? I want to give Jennifer the benefit of the doubt but I truly think she is in over her head because I don't believe she quite thought that this is how long the series would go.
In fact, I think that she is making more trouble for herself in trying multi POV for this new series when really I think it should have just been Gray taking over. It would have allowed us to see how he's grown especially after the heartache and mental health issues he's had to go through to get here. It felt like the obvious next step, even the summary for TGG made it sound like that. However, the only thing that seems new to me is the hypersexual atmosphere which also makes no sense to me because teens may go through attraction but that doesn't mean they're horny all the time and anyone who's gone through puberty can attest to that. So I ask again, like one reviewer on Goodreads put, were the romantic moments in the room with us? 12 hours is not love or romance, it's lust, that's it. Couldn't summarize it clearer. If she wanted to make it better, it could have been that she made the book stretch over a series of weeks which is why I wonder what the heck will happen to any character development if this book series is done in like 3 days?
As I said, a lot of things feel very repetitive, the plot, word choice, thought processes, quotes and sayings, etc. We are in a loop. She's in a loop. I think that the best thing JLB could have done is leave TIG alone for a few years after TFG, make a new series or whatever works outside this series she wanted to, give herself time to truly see if she has new stories to tell for TIG by writing a spin-off and then come back to give us that content. Because it's really telling how forced things have been in the last two books, even here with GU and I really think this empire is toppling. As they say, quality over quantity and thoughtful than full of thoughts that are just a variation of one another. That's what makes me think more and more she should have left it at TFG.
Thank you for reading and I hope this gives a new perspective that can help you see some things more clearly.
#tig analysis#tig anecdote#the inheritance games rant#thank you for coming to my ted talk#the inheritance games#the final gambit#the grandest game#tig#tfg#tgg
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out off the bag
Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: In the midst of the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix weekend, Lando Norris faces the unexpected challenge of discussing his relationship with Amelie, now very public after their kiss in Miami. As the media and fellow drivers tease him about the newfound attention, Lando navigates the awkwardness with a mix of humor and genuine sentiment for his girlfriend.
Wordcount: 0.7 k
Warnings: just fluff
May 17th, 2024 - Imola, Italy
The Emilia Romagna Grand Prix weekend had officially begun, and Lando Norris stood on the fan stage in front of a cheering crowd of fans, most of whom were eagerly awaiting to hear about the upcoming race. His usual confidence in front of the fans was there, but there was an unmistakable unease in his posture. It had only been a couple of weeks since the race in Miami, where the whole world had found out about his relationship with Amelie—his beautiful, talented, and slightly chaotic girlfriend.
The kiss they shared at the Miami Grand Prix had gone viral almost immediately, sending social media into a frenzy. And now, just thirteen days later, he was standing on stage, trying to answer questions while also processing the fact that this was no longer a secret. Amelie was a part of his life, a very public part of his life.
Lando took a deep breath and looked at the interviewer, who was smiling a bit too mischievously for his liking. The interviewer, a young man with a sharp wit, wasn’t going to let Lando off easy.
—So, Lando,— the interviewer started, drawing the crowd’s attention with his exaggerated enthusiasm, —I think we need to talk about your… new relationship status. It’s been all over the news after Miami. Can you tell us a bit more about how things are going with Amelie?—
Lando’s stomach did a flip. It was only natural that people would ask about it, but now that it was out there, he wasn’t sure how to talk about it publicly. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He was so used to talking about racing, strategy, and the latest car developments—this felt... different.
—Uh, yeah, it’s, uh… going great,— Lando began, shifting on his feet. —We’ve known each other for a while now. Been good friends for a long time, and, uh, things just kind of happened after we started spending more time together last year. But, yeah, Miami definitely… well, I guess it made everything a bit more public.— He chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood, but the crowd was already roaring with excitement, some fans cheering, others shouting his and Amelie’s names.
As soon as Lando mentioned Miami, the teasing began. Oscar Piastri, who had been standing next to Lando on the stage, smirked and leaned in, nudging him with his elbow.
—Oh, come on, Lando,— Oscar said with a grin, —you can’t just brush off that moment. The whole world watched you two kiss. You really didn’t think you were getting away with keeping it private, did you?—
Lando’s face flushed even more, and he shot Oscar a glare, but it didn’t do much to stop the teasing.
—Yeah, mate,— Alex Albon chimed in from the other side of Lando, his tone dripping with mock sympathy, —you looked like a man in love. Pretty sure I’m still getting tagged in memes about it.—
Logan Sargeant, standing just behind them, couldn’t help but add his two cents.
—You two were basically a real-life rom-com moment. Can you at least admit that?—
Lando groaned, his hands finding their way into his pockets as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. This wasn’t how he expected this whole thing to go.
—Alright, alright, I get it, okay?— Lando said, a nervous laugh escaping him. —But seriously, I’m just trying to talk about the race, yeah?—
The interviewer was clearly enjoying himself, leaning into the banter. He gestured toward Lando and the teasing trio.
—Well, it looks like we’ve got some new fans for Team Lando & Amelie here! But tell me, Lando, what’s it like having your relationship out there for everyone to see now? I mean, Miami was a big deal. There’s been a lot of attention. How are you handling it?—
Lando hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting down for a brief second before he met the crowd’s eyes again.
—Honestly, it’s… it’s weird at first. I’ve been in the spotlight for a long time, but this feels different, you know?— Lando began, trying to find the right words. —Amelie and I, we’ve always been really close. I’ve always admired her, and now that we’re… together, it’s just natural. But yeah, having it all out there for everyone to see is a little overwhelming. It’s not something I ever thought I’d have to talk about so publicly.—
—So what’s the deal with the kiss in Miami, Lando?— the interviewer pressed, smirking.
Lando’s hand shot up in the air in mock surrender.
—It was a spontaneous thing! I mean, we were celebrating, and...uh, well, it just happened! Not everything needs an explanation, right?—
Oscar snorted, shaking his head.
—It’s fine, mate, we’ve all seen it. You looked pretty happy. And I’m sure you didn’t mind the attention. We’ve been getting tagged in Amelie’s posts too, haven’t we? She has a bit of a following herself.—
Alex jumped in with a sly grin.
—Yeah, and don’t forget the constant memes and the romantic captions she puts up. I’m sure she’s loving it just as much as you are, Lando.—
Lando groaned, trying to hide his face behind his hand.
—Alright, alright, you lot are too much right now. Just let me get through this, please? I’ve already said enough about my love life for one day.—
The crowd was absolutely loving the banter, and Lando had to admit, it did make things feel a bit easier. He caught a glimpse of his phone, and for a moment, his thoughts drifted to Amelie. He hadn’t spoken to her in hours, as she was on her way to New York for her Saturday Night Live appearance, but just thinking about her put a smile on his face.
—It’s great though,— Lando added, his voice softening a little. —She’s amazing, and I’m lucky to have her. But we’re both just taking things one day at a time. For now, though, I’ll just stick to racing.— He cleared his throat, trying to shift the conversation back to something more comfortable for him. —Speaking of which, let’s talk about the race weekend. How are you lot feeling about the track?—
The crowd cheered, and just like that, the conversation shifted back to racing, but Lando could still feel the playful teasing hanging in the air. He knew that he couldn’t avoid the subject forever, especially now that Amelie was a part of his world in such a public way.
But at least for now, it was done. And for a brief moment, he could just focus on the race, on the adrenaline of the track. He couldn’t wait for what the weekend would bring.
#lando norris#lando norris fluff#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#lando norris fanfic#lando x reader#f1#f1 smau#formula 1#lando x you#f1 fluff#lando#lando x y/n#lando x singer!#lando norris x singer!#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x oc#sabrina carpenter#singer#snl#imola gp 2024#emilia romagna#acting#formula 1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#fanfic#formula one
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the warmest human pillow
pairing: changbin x reader | idiots to lovers, light angst, pretty fluffy overall | warnings: stress from studying | a/n: gotta hide because my bestie didn't want me to post this in bullet style BUT that's all i got for now. love you, baby!!! promise the next will be written properly!!
ok, so you and changbin work together at a hostel in exchange for a room
changbin is the owner's nephew, but he's kind of an assistant manager around the place
you work part-time at the front desk
for the rest of the day you lock yourself in your room to study for a big project you're going to apply soon
your dynamic with changbin is kind of random since you don't give him much attention
yet he’s always acting silly around you
well, that changed since he caught you paying a girl to answer a test for you
since then he wouldn't stop coming through the reception with a knowing smirk plastered on his beautiful face
one day you got tired of it, "got something to tell me?"
he goes, "oh no, i'm alright. i guess you have something to tell that company"
and as soon as you got up from your chair, his aunt called him outside
he walked through and winked
two days later, when you thought you were left alone by him
he calls you after the staff meeting
"i need a favor"
"why would i do anything for you?"
"well, i've got proof of someone cheating on a super important test for a project application..."
"okay, alright. just tell me what you want."
you noticed how his smirk turned into a hesitating expression
"you remember my brother, right? he left for uni last week."
"yeah, he's a nice guy. i knew he could do it."
"me too. the thing is, our room has a lot of space. auntie stated that if i don't find anyone to share, she's going to make it available to rent."
you nodded, "but i'm okay with my room, i don't need more space."
"the second thing is that i'm having trouble sleeping alone. i used to have my brother as a safe place for personal reasons..."
"wait, you want to share the bed with me?!"
he started to nervously play with his hands
"yes, but just at night... you can have the room to yourself the rest of the day, i promise it's much more comfortable than the one you rent right now."
"if you start with some creepy behavior i'm going to ruin your life."
then you agree
in the first night, changbin watched you getting comfortable with your body pillow
he suggested, "you can cling on me, i don't mind"
"yeah thanks, just stay where you are"
but in the middle of the night, you feel him restless near you
“is this what your brother had to put up with? i thought company would help you”
you don’t see changbin awkward smile in the dark
“well, he actually cuddled me, so…”
“what? are you serious?” with his silence, you question, “changbin, please don’t tell me this is the only way you’re able to sleep”
silence again, then a mumble, “i’m really sorry, it’s something i’m working on therapy”
now you’re the quiet one, biting your lips in deep thought
“alright, i won’t pressure you about it, just know i’m the big spoon and that won’t change”
you take the body pillow that separated your bodies and pull him closer
changbin shudders when he feels your arm around his waist, his back against your chest
“is this okay?”
“it’s nice”
“great, now let me sleep, tomorrow’s going to be a long day”
changbin tries to hold the biggest smile on his face, although he didn’t have to
the alarm goes off in the morning, you find yourself with a leg thrown over changbin’s, who’s now on his back
he’s basically your realistic body pillow, but much more comfortable and warm
you feel his soft skin where his clothes don’t reach
you almost feel like not leaving the bed at all, but the alarm goes off one more time
(strategy to make sure you wake up)
unfortunately, the noise woke up the fluffy human pillow under you as well
“morning, sorry for waking you up like this”
“it’s okay, i overslept, to be honest”
he doesn’t tell you it’s been a while since he slept so well
the two of you exchange glances, somehow waiting who’s getting up first
even you are surprise to not be the one sprinting away from him
not wanting to cause any more bother, changbin moves away
you convince yourself that the cold air that hits you it’s because of the blanket that slipped a little, not because of the lack of his warmness
the days go by with the usual stress
both of you take care of the hostel by day, then find comfort in each other by night
none of this is weird at all, since you’re always too tired to argue
changbin’s not that bad as well
his silly antics decrease when he realizes how quiet and serious you get when focusing on the project
one fine afternoon he catches you crying in front of your laptop screen
the exam for this stage of the project is even more difficult, and yet you can’t go through that freaking subject
the one you pay the girl to do for you
but she wasn’t available that week, so you ended up in a crisis, wondering why on earth you couldn’t get that through your brain
“listen, breathe for me, okay? let’s get yourself together first,” he guides you patiently
when you feel able to focus on him again, he puts one hand over your cheek
the warm feeling is familiar, working like some kind of anchor
“i can’t do the test for you, but we can study together. how long do we have?”
“two weeks only”
“two weeks are enough, let’s just work hard, alright?”
you just stare at him, trying to process how you got to this point of intimacy
the point of making you feel like hugging and kissing him till you both are out of breath
“okay, let’s do it”
changbin nods, scanning your face with a small smile
“i find this mole under your eye the cutest thing, you know?”
you put a hand over his – the one still on your cheek
“you’re not subtle with your pretty words and pretty eyes, okay?”
“oh? i mean, it’s all part of a plan, to be honest”
“talk to me”
“a study break, our bed, some cuddles, some kisses, if you’re interested. then more cuddles, maybe more kisses…”
“okay! i’m in! no more convincing!”
you get up and run straight to the bed, hearing his giggles echo through the room
your hearts now heavy only with one knows by love and joy
#seo changbin#changbin#changbin x reader#changbin imagines#changbin scenarios#seo changbin x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#kpop imagines#bluewrts#for those who don't know he's the love of my life
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Eazy-Duz-It // Logan Howlett x Reader
PT 1
a/n this is also on my ao3 account, but i felt like posting it here, too, for funsies. i'm bad at descriptions, just go with it.
synopsis: The school needs a therapist, fast. Maybe this random mutant can be the music teacher slash music therapy person. Oh yeah, there's also this mutant testing corporation?
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"Clearly something isn't working," Ororo mumbled as she watched yet another student run by yelling obscenities behind them and ignoring the damage being caused by their mutation. It was nearing the end of the first week that a therapist had been employed at the school. Rebecca Zien was recommended to Charles by Jean Grey as a counselor that was also a fellow telepath.
"Perhaps the problem is that she's a mutant. She seems to be invading the students' minds, leaving them no room to express their emotions themselves." Charles determined beside her. He and Ororo had been watching closely the entire week, gathering information to see if Dr. Zien should be a permanent addition to the staff. It was evident that she should leave. "I'll discuss with her later this evening. Please go have a word with Miss Lily." Charles instructed Ororo which she gladly took to. It wasn't in her to leave a struggling student to their own devices when she could easily go help. This left Charles alone to think about what the next course of action was to be. Like Ororo had said, something wasn't working. They had an issue on their hands. They couldn't introduce something new and take it away and pretend like nothing happened. This week had caused all the students stress, and he needed to fix this mistake. The solution would have to wait a little longer, for now, he needed to fire Rebecca Zein.
Somewhere else in the world
"Leave me the fuck alone! God damn!" a woman demanded, struggling at the ropes that clung her uncomfortably to an equally as uncomfortable chair. "I have no idea what the hell y'all are even talking about!" she kicked at the air. The idiots who tied her down didn't think to restrain her legs. Said idiots, were leaning against the opposing wall to where the woman was tied. It was a small, dingy place. The acoustics made it sound like a shipping container. The woman didn't know for sure; she was knocked out before being put here.
"Do you ever shut up?" one man said. There was only two of them, the one who spoke seemed to be the younger of the duo. He seemed more inexperienced at kidnapping and interrogating people, too. He had repeatedly hit the woman after every question, not even giving her a chance to respond. But it wasn't like she had anything to respond with, anyway. She was plucked off the street after being detected as a mutant by the two. How they did that, she didn't know. Her mutation wasn't flashy or anything, it wasn't even visible when she was using it. She didn't need to outstretch her arms, her eyes didn't glow, nothing was admitted off of her. Her mutation was invisible unless she was using it on you. There was something wrong with the container, something that was preventing her from using her mutation on the two idiots.
"I'm not really known for being quiet, buddy." she remarked. They had been at a standstill for hours it felt. The older of the two muttered that it would be just a few more hours before she was out of their hair. Whatever that meant. They were both bald anyways. The younger opened his mouth in tandem with someone knocking on the container.
"About fucking time," the younger said as he leaned harder to crack open the container behind him. A force grabbed him, though, yanking him out of the container. A second didn't even pass before three silver claws dragged the older man with. The container was opened fully by a man with unibrow inspired sunglasses.
"Jean! There's someone in here!" he called out behind him. Another pair of footsteps ran beside him, a woman, Jean, appeared beside him and stepped into the container.
"I'm guessing y'all aren't the people they were waiting for?" the tied woman asked. Jean cracked a small smile as she made her way over to the other woman.
"That's right. What's your name? We weren't made aware that they had any hostages." she asked.
"I'm Y/n. I think I'm the only one here. I didn't hear anyone else being questioned in a one-mile radius. I don't know how big shipping container yards are, though." Y/n said. She helped slip the ropes around her torso off.
"You're a mutant?" Jean asked. Y/n stood, nodding. "Scott, see if there's any other hostages around." she called behind her. Unibrow shades, Scott, gave a thumbs up before running out of view. The sounds of the two kidnappers being beat up finally stopped and another man popped his head into view. He was gruffer than the other two saviors. He was a little and bloody from pummeling those two crooks. The sweat on his forehead was illuminated by the moonlight, as were his silver claws.
"Is she comin' with us or what?" even his voice was gruff. Sounds like he's gonna need a smoke after this, Y/n thought.
"A third location? What happened to never let someone take you to a second one, huh?" Y/n mumbled.
"Hm, funny," Jean said, "he's talking about a school for mutants. We're teachers there."
"I thought you guys were some kind of comic heroes?"
"That too," Scott wandered into the conversation. Jean gave him a questioning look, "no other hostages out there, just what we came here for." he informed.
"Good, lets head out then. Y/n, would you care to come with us? It'd be safer for you if you did."
"Only if you tell me who you guys are," Y/n crossed her arms. This 'school for mutants' sounded too good to be true; living as a mutant in this world taught Y/n that things were always too good to be true.
"I'm Jean, the man with the visor is Scott, and that's Logan. Are you coming with us or not?"
"Sure,"
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Firing Dr. Zein wasn't exactly a walk in the park, unfortunately. She stormed out of the mansion saying something about her telepathy always helping her in her career as a therapist. Something like that. Charles Xavier was now sitting in his office with Ororo and other x-men/professors deciding what to do next.
"Maybe we could hire a non-mutant therapist? Maybe having someone on the outside looking in will give better counseling than someone on the inside. An outside perspective," Kitty Pryde suggested.
"We'd have to find someone willing to do that. I don't know if there will be many therapists out there willing to jeopardize their career by taking a controversial position as a mutant counselor." Henry rebutted.
Everyone who added to the discussion had valid points. It was starting to give Charles a headache. No solution seemed right; none fit with their circumstances. Most of the students said that the counseling felt too invasive. The whole situation gave everyone a headache.
"That's enough for today. We'll discuss this at further length when more faculty is present." Charles finally announced. The meeting had lasted well over an hour, they started talking in circle. "You all are dismissed." Faculty filtered out of the room at a moderate pace, Ororo was the only to stay behind as she has been Charles' righthand man during this whole ordeal. "You would imagine we'd be more equipped to handle this." he solemnly joked. Ororo didn't have the capacity to a pity smile.
The doors to his office suddenly burst open, revealing Scott, Jean, Logan, and someone he hadn't met before. "To what do we owe the honor?" Charles' eyebrows lifted slightly at the entrance and unfamiliar face.
"We found the weapons dumped at a shipping yard. We also found a hostage." Logan informed. At the mention of 'hostage' he pushed Y/n forward a little.
"Hostage?" Charles wheeled closer to Y/n. "A mutant hostage." he leaned back in his chair.
"Uh, yeah. Why is that important?" Y/n asked after the few seconds of examination.
"The weapons these three recovered are mutation repressors being manufactured by a colleague of one William Stryker." Charles stated. The air of mystery was quickly set aside, however.
"You say that like I'm supposed to know who that is," Y/n noted. The three behind her were getting annoyed, but Charles continued to enlighten Y/n with the important information she was missing.10 minutes had passed soon enough; Jean and Scott were lounging on a couch, Logan was one sentence from walking out of the room, and Y/n was sitting across Charles at his desk.
"Ok, so William Stryker sucks. I did, however, pick up pretty quick that they were gonna try out the mutation repressors on me, thank you for the thorough explanation, though." Y/n pointed out. She didn't mean that statement with any aggression, seemed like Jean and Scott didn't get that memo with the even more irritated expressions they displayed.
"What is your mutation, anyway?" Logan called out. He might as well get something out of all the waiting he was doing.
"It's kind of hard to explain. It relates to beats and rhythm," Y/n started, "like music," she added after seeing the confusion on his face.
"Music?" Logan grunted. Y/n just nodded, not feeling like an audible response was necessary if he was just going to be a bitch about it. "Why the hell would they want to test these out on a mutation like that?"
"Beats me, no pun intended. The container they put me in had something done to it where I couldn't use my mutation." Y/n shrugged. Charles and Jean perked up. Jean walked over from the couch slowly, the gears started turning in her head.
"They held you in a box that cancelled out your abilities?" Jean clarified; Y/n nodded once more. "That must mean this organization created a metal or compound of something that represses mutations, not just weapons."
"Organization?" Ororo asked.
"Yes, ReinTec, I believe." Charles added. "Jean, Scott, find whatever you can about ReinTec. Y/n, I'd like to talk to you about staying here at the school, I have an issue I believe you can help with."
#logan howlett#wolverine#x men#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you
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Dating while being a first responser was tough. Bailey could admit to herself; she used the job as an escape from time to time because she was just not feeling it. Or she simply felt the connection and felt scared. Bailey knew she was beautiful and she happily got a few compliments on a daily. But She didn’t want to date some aimless guy on the street. She wanted a genuine connection. And her being call most of the week made it difficult. And as she listened to John list the fairly common scenarios she had to nod her head.
Because she got the sense he had experience with how hard it was to date in LA, with being a cop. And she swallowed thickly to herself noting she was guilty of it. A call came in before she could make that blind date just a few days ago. She had the alarm playing in her ears, and she knew as firefighter it was hard to meet someone. Along with the fear of bailing on them on a daily. But the brunette felt a genuine smile curve at the corners of her lips now. “ Dating is hard, I swear each time I try to put myself out there; a call comes in. And obviously I aim to take the call. Because it’s the only thing I can trust with my life.” A guy had the prospect to disappoint you in the end. All that to say I guess it says the insecurities that were raised in her mind. But John was a nice guy; his smile lit up the room. He was matured, and Bailey liked him, enough to want to plan another date with him. “ I’m happy to stop by if that’s not too much.” I aired out as I placed the next donut into my mouth allowing myself to be myself. And I asked a question I knew might tell me to run for the hills. “ Have you been married before? Kids?” I asked because we’re two mature adults, and I wanted someone who wouldn’t waste my time now if that made sense. “ We all have faults to over going the restrictions of our job. The amount of times I was told not to run into a building when I was a rookie..” I added as a harmless laugh came to my lips now.
We had a bond, even with Ripley not being the best dog at the time; it brought me a chance encounter with John; and that felt enough for me. “ “ One more cup.” I added as I gently placed my mug into his grasp. I was nervous but I also felt safe in his presence, I didn’t know who I expected but I knew I liked John.
@suchamessiputoutflames
[Ben. He and I had been friends since college. That was the sort of friendship that rarely lasted. Usually once college ends, you gradually lose touch with those people who once meant the world to you. Especially from the guys' perspective of things. Guys were terrible at keeping in touch. Ben though... We couldn't shake each other, and after years continued to pass, we found that we didn't want to. After leaving Pennsylvania for LA in order to join the police academy and ultimately become a police officer, it was Ben who supported me. Don't get me wrong, he told me "I was completely out of my mind, and that midlife crisis' usually look more like a weird hairstyle, an earring, or buying a car I neither need nor want. They usually aren't in the form of a completely ridiculous career change at forty." He was right, but it didn't deter me either. He may not have understood it, but he continued to support me; even letting me crash indefinitely at his pool house, and sometimes the main house too, when he was on his lengthy business trips. He was a great friend. One who's back I would always have, like he's always had mine, which is probably why I reluctantly agreed to this blind date he allegedly set me up on, even though dating was the last thing I had on my mind] "John, you're in a rut. You haven't dated since the divorce. Sarah is already remarried, so if you feel guilty about dating, don't. It's time. Past time, if you ask me. You're not getting any younger, so it's time to find the one." [I didn't necessarily agree, but I respected his perspective on the situation nonetheless] "She's beautiful, seems nice, and when I did a background check on her, she checked out all the important boxes." [I shook my head in response. Leave it to Ben to run a background check on a woman he wants to set me up with. The police officer in me would let that go in one ear and out the other though. Ultimately I agreed. Not because I wanted to go on this blind date, because I didn't, but because I knew if I didn't agree, Ben would never drop it. Ben went out of town for his next business trip, and as promised, I went to this blind date. Found myself at the highly demanded table that Ben requested when he placed the reservation; sipping on a drink while waiting for "Bailey" to arrive. Problem was, she never did. Yes, I waited there an embarrassing and pathetic amount of time before finally throwing in the towel and leaving. Mind you, that wasn't before I heard my waiter, one of the bus boys, and even the restaurant manager asking me if I thought she showed up, saw me, and left. Oh yeah, that's one to wound the pride for sure. It was worse though once Lucy and Jackson found out, since they made a point to tell everyone else; leading them to also tease me that she probably showed up, saw me, and left] Great, guys. Thanks for the vote of confidence. [I said flatly and without humor as we proceeded with the morning meeting and would commence with the start of this day. Ben was expected back at some point today from his business trip, so I'd be sure to give him an earful in person once I was home later this evening. Nope. Never again would I let him set me up on a blind date. Rut or not, I'd find my own dates from here on out. I thought to myself as morning meeting ended, and Nyla and I left, so we could get started with what I expected would turn out to be a busy day on patrol]
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do any of yall deal with psoriasis flares and if so ✨what do you do about it✨
#I was prescribed stronger topical steroids for it and they cleared it but only as long as I was using them. the moment I stopped it’s all#come back#and I guess you can only use it for two weeks at a time?#I have been in active flare up since uhhhhhhhhhh March or April#and I’m so fucking sick of it#it just keeps getting worse too <3#and I don’t want to go on biologics?????? ugh#also who has the money for that.
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even the people most outspoken about workers rights clearly view workers in certain professions as less deserving of a work life balance. yes it’s frustrating that business hours are 9-5 and you typically have to take time off to go to the dentist or doctor or bank, but employees at those places deserve to go home at 5 too! it’s one thing to advocate for daytime and nighttime shift teams but as someone who works in a fast paced customer service administrative role with a LOT of people trying to get through to us, i constantly hear “well i emailed after 5 but i guess you guys were closed by then 🙄” like yes. we have to go home. we can’t work 24/7, even if it would be more convenient for you if we did. and you wouldn’t expect that of every profession so you shouldn’t expect it of ours. i have friends who are always encouraging work life balance but then when they need to visit the dmv or the bank or whatever and it’s open 9-5 they get visibly annoyed like….its still People who work at those places. yes people who do jobs that are urgent and important to your life, but people all the same. i swear like the same people who (rightfully) won’t work a minute past 5 PM would happily agree to have employees in certain professions working around the clock if they deem it the kind of service that they feel entitled to have constant 24/7 access to
#and obviously i don’t mean emergency rooms or urgent cares or anything like that#but like my job while important and timely is not something that you need to have access to literally 24/7#and we already DO overtime and insane hours#and yet on the daily i hear ‘so i guess i have to wait another two business days for a response 🙄’ when an email is sent to our office#where we work with an enormous student body with thousands of people trying to reach us every week#like yes sorry you do have to wait 2 business days because we can only do so much work in the day#and if YOU were asked to stay all day and all night at your job to get everyone an immediate response you’d be pissed#sorry guys a lot of job complaining coming up soon
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clancy
#guess who took the longest possible way home today just to listen to this masterpiece of an album#you guys are laughing but it's my only oxygen these days#i don't think i am physically capable of listening to anything else right now#and it's been like what two weeks?#idk time is not a real thing anyway so who's counting#have i mentioned this album has no skips at all#i only didn't really like midwest indigo on my first listen HAHAHA HAHA HA-#you goddamn fool.#this song slaps just like the rest of them#anyway#mutuals do me a favour go listen to clancy#this lore is fantastic#you don't have to listen for the lore you can just vibe if you want#but if you think about the symbolism it's actually insane and i feel like most of us can relate#and i'm not only talking about clancy but like about the entire twenty one pilots discography#or at least last four albums#cause there's not much of it on clancy tbh but like#it's the album of the year i can already tell you#brb gonna sell my kidney (or the eras tour ticket) to see them live next year#i say whatever and whatever that i want*
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Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care
#i have 14 hours overtime#collected within 2 weeks lol#you know how it's apparently mandatory for companies in germany to have a way track employees working time? yeah we're#the only company in the whole fucking country who doesn't do that (obviously that's not true there's probably plenty more but it's#still not right.) so we don't get paid overtime nor does it get acknowledged in any way#so technically we're not allowed to even it out (which most people try to do anyway because tf do they think they are asking us to work for#free) but I'm dedicated to not collect any more unpaid working hours so i take the liberty to leave work early this week#so today i left at 12pm (and then got home 4 hours later because another person decided to kill themselves by train. they should call me#first. or anyone else taking the train. I'm sure there'd be plenty of volunteers to do the killing if it means not another miserable day#stuck in a disgusting train). and i logged in again at 6pm today to see if i have anything important messages (stupid i know)#and i saw the missed calls and that there had been an email exchange with me in the cc talking about the 'changes' made in one of the#articles and that someone else could do that for me since i couldn't be reached and at first i felt ashamed and scared#but now it's honestly just pissing me off. that asshole can't write emails and communicate requests like normal people can he#he already called me last week about something completely stupid and acts like his matters are the most important shit in the world#fuck you if you can't wait one day you should have sent this a month earlier because i won't stay online everyday#just to see if there might be an 'important' change you want me to make Immediately. bitch.#also missed two calls from my colleague but she didn't send any messages about what she wanted so i asked her because i felt bad for not#being online and turns out she wanted Nothing. just hear how i was. JUST TEXT ME THEN???? I HATE IT HERE FUCK YOU#seriously i don't get paid enough for this to bother me so much. she probably gets 12-15€ more than me per hour#of course she doesn't care about her overtime as much as i do. i get minimum wage which is less than what I'd get if i still worked at uni#as a student assistant so fuck this shit it's really not important or worth it. from now on i'll only put in minimum effort too#sorry got carried away. rant over now i guess#void screams#work stuff
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GRE today…..
#456 words#it’s optional for most things I’m applying to but. my grades are not amazing for the level I’m applying#so in my case taking the gre is a good idea if I can do really well#which#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#we will see#I did a practice test and sone practice problems and such and I do fine#but I would like a higher percentile in quantitative than my practices have projected#hopefully having practiced and being in a proper test environment will help push it up a few more points#also it’s like. 50/50 rn on whether I can finish the essay in 30 mins#ive gotten it closer each time I practice but#woof. hard to cleanly articulate a point you don’t know ahead of time in 30 mins#but yeah ideally I do well enough that I can send scores and they will help rather than harm#that’s all I ask. I could maybe take it again but would rather not have to spend another 250#we shall see#at least it’s not the time I took the mcat w only 2 weeks prep#and its also not the mcat#mcat has No fucking reason to be that long#that’s not a cognitive test or a content test it is an endurance test#I know gre used to be longer (like 4 hours?????) but. still#mcat was like 7 iirc#GRE is 2 hours which is a normal fucking amount of time for a test methinks#though ngl it’s a bitch that the hardest sections are at the end#well I guess that’s. a good sign actually????#bc iirc it modulates what you get on the last two sections based on your earlier performance#so the fact it gets harder means I’m doing well early on#but still………..#anyway I’m rambling#pre test thoughts I guess#don’t expect anyone to read this really and if you did sorry this is. probably entirely uninteresting
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I wish I could find a doctor that wants to find out what’s actually wrong with me instead of recommending prescriptions to address the symptoms. I’m so tired of being recommended ibuprofen for debilitating pain. Tired of relaying my medical history to a new doctor and getting the same furrowed brow and shrugging shoulders I get every time. Tired of having so-called medical professionals ask why I need a cane if I’m able to walk down their clinic hallway without it. When will someone fucking help me?
#Leif barks#this is gonna get vent-y and shit in the tags just general mental and physical health issue TW#I’ve really given up on going to doctors atp#I used to have at least one sometimes two dr appts every week and I haven’t seen anyone in 6 months#saw a specialist in January for an MRI follow up and he basically went “wow your spine is fucked up! want some pregablin?“#I am 25yo with degenerative disc disease in 4 discs and facet joint arthritis and you as a specialist are not concerned?#because I sure fucking am!#why is my spinal column breaking down inside my body#I also developed an eating disorder in all of this mess bc when my symptoms first started at like 21yo#the only thing I heard from dr’s was “lose weight” so guess what I did#150lbs in a year and a half#and now when I go to a dr I get congratulated for losing it and then get told to take ibuprofen again#also wow getting told you did a good job at starving yourself is a crazy mind fuck#like you can look at my chart and see the weight loss in real time and that’s apparently wasn’t concerning either#I’ve stopped losing weight but now I’m terrified of gaining and I’m in this maintenance limbo that is literal torture on my brain and body#I’m just over here suffering#I tentatively started therapy again bc the depression-anxiety-cptsd-autism-eating disorder combo is killing me#and I’m not kidding I got three sessions in and she told me I’m too much for her to handle#so I guess I will be letting it kill me bc I don’t know what the fuck to do
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(not hornyposting just musing lol) so i’m a singer-songwriter and performer irl and i’m thinking about the fact that i go around on a day to day basis singing serious, professional songs that use dogs and brainwashing and cannibalism as painful heartbroken metaphors. and i’ve been doing this for years but little by little all these things i process my anguish through in songwriting, have also become how i satisfy my sex drive. and i don’t know what to do with that information i just think it’s wild!! fun fact abt me i guess. i go out there in public singing about how service is my fulfillment and calling myself a good boy and i sing about wanting to be violently torn apart and eaten and i’m like. yeah it’s a metaphor. yeah dw i’m really normal. i don’t fantasize about having my humanity stripped from me and being treated like a stupid sweet puppy barking and whining for my lovers sick and twisted pleasure what are you TALKING about. i just like the poetic imagery of it. i SWEAR.
#i just think it’s silly….#like no joke i’ve written five songs this school year and lets see#there’s one about being a ‘‘silly stupid angel’’ who’s degraded and abused and idealized and stripped of all dignity#(yes it’s a commentary on the patriarchy. yes it’s about the toxic relationship i was in at the time. it’s also several of my kinks in one)#there’s one called GOOD BOY about being a dog. whining and kicking up the dirt. growling and whimpering. being taken advantage of#ITS JUST A METAPHOR. obviously. i actually wasn’t into puppy play yet when i wrote that song iirc. guess it got to me….#then there’s the cannibalism one. i gave my soul up you can eat me raw diced up and vulnerable i’m yours to try#it’s a ummmm it’s just a commentary. (also about my toxic relationship. he didn’t want to fuck OR eat me. but somehow still used me)#anyway the other two are just normal one is about filtering myself for him and the other is about being oppressed and poor and angry lol#still though. the fact that over half my songs are literally my kinks turned into poetry. and NOBODY KNOWS#it’s not my fault that those things are on my mind ALL THE TIME. what am i supposed to write songs about if not being a stupid puppy??#i don’t think anyone on my kink blog ACTUALLY wants to hear about this but my kinks are secret so this is the only place i can post about i#hope u can get some sort of psychological insight about me?? or idk stalk me?? show up 2 my shows and kidnap and use me?? who said that#i’m not even like. wet rn i’m just on here as reflex. and i’m THINKING. abt my TWISTED MIND and the weird shit i write about#in an intellectual way. cause i’m not USING my KINK BLOG this week. cause i SAID SO cause i need to KEEP MY WITS ABOUT ME#so i’m gonna be so normal. and not touch myself even a little bit cause i need to sleep and i need to move house and i need to be so normal#unrelatedly: tomorrow i’ll be one month on testosterone!! definitely hasn’t awakened anything in me….#anyway. anyway. i’m going to try to go to bed. probably going to end up edging myself stupid instead though#will just have 2 see what happens…. god it would be a shame if someone came in and used my sleeping body. who said that
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study smart not hard (altough both is best actually) this saying is so true
#my advice#but this saying is sooo true#i know some people at uni who study for exam so long and hard but then fail or just barely make it :(#like what are you doing? i don't mean this in a mean way but it doesn't have to be this difficult#i don't understand how some people can study for an exam for 2 weeks or even a month and still fail and i don't think they're stupid#or i don't see myself as particulary smart#but i guess they just waste their time a lot and i realized studying effective is so important#now everyone is a bit different and has to find what works best for them but there are certain techniques which are proven to work well#there is so much information on the internet on this look it up seriously#it made my life sm easier i never struggled in uni like i did in school and i get good grades#and if i ever struggled a bit it was because i started so late it was almost impossible to pass 😂#which is why to do both is still best 😂#but i actually always made it and i never failed an exam at uni (which i studied for)#(two i was fooled into to just try without studying bc it's easy lol)#i mean i shouldn't speak too soon but i already made it through some of the most difficult of my studies#ofc it depends on what you study how well this works but i'm speaking for myself#i once passed an exam with a B studying only 2 days as one of the best students while others studied 2 weeks#and got worse grades or failed#still studying only 2 days is stupidity don't do it 😅#so the techniques i find very helpful are ofc exam questions probably the best one#if there are none make your own#then blurting for which there are different ways but i like to just go over a topic and then write down everything i remember#then fill the gaps#quizlet is also great it's an app which allows you to create cards and then tests you in creative ways#videos can be helpful as well for summaries and using summaries in general is normally enough it saves you sm time#normally you don't actually need to know everything but you should be careful it's not a bad summary leaving out too much 😅#and i also like mindmaps bc i'm a very visual person#but all those tipps are mostly for remembering information so it doesn't work so well for other fields of study#well i hope this is somewhat helpful idk 🙈#oh and reading texts over and over again is the most useless in my opinion i don't remember much at all and it takes sm time
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