#anyways now I’m over sharing but this is my oversharing space

[lordsardine]

.

[rosypenguins]

Hey so uh about my Vampire AU… I still somehow have no clue what I want to do with the first chapter so uh… UH- DISTRACTION! DOM AND FAYE HEADCANONS BECAUSE THEY MAKE ME VIOLENT!!

💚Faye is brutally honest, whereas Dom has absolutely no issue lying if he thinks it’ll be for the better. It’s gotten to a point where he does it almost compulsively now. (This has definitely impacted him negatively in the past, but will he stop? HAH-)

🧡Despite me saying this, I feel like Dom can’t lie on command. He can do it impulsively, but if he’s specifically told to lie about something he struggles to keep a straight face. (This leads to a lot of people thinking he’s just as bad a liar as Faye when this really is not the case.)

💚Faye is easily overwhelmed by loud noise, and usually has to listen to music at a low volume. Dom, meanwhile, has to blast his as loudly as possible.

🧡I feel like they mostly listen to Indie stuff. I can’t really see them being into any main-stream artists.

💚Considering Dom’s comment about him and Faye wanting to be friends with Elliot for a while, I like to imagine that after they said goodbye to Elliot in the first spin-off episode, they high-fived and got super giddy. But then cut to two hours later and Dom’s pacing the room like: “oh my God, we overshared again he LITERALLY HATES US-”

🧡I’m sorry but there’s no way they both don’t have low-self esteem. (Dom’s: “We can be a bit annoying to be fair-” will forever live in my head rent-free until further elaborated on.)

💚Anyways, I feel like these two are always sharing their thoughts with one another, and even when they’re apart, they’ll still turn to where other would usually be with the intention of saying something, only to realize they’re not there and feel a little awkward afterwards.

🧡DO NOT SEPARATE. THEY DO NOT LIKE BEING SEPARATED.

💚They’ve probably tried to create their own language before. But they kept changing the rules of it so neither of them really understand it anymore.

🧡But they probably have a second, non-verbal language of just hand motions, expressions and straight up mind-reading.

💚They’ve probably tried to pass as one another at least once before. (And no one fell for it.)

🧡I like to think they both have DND-style OC’s they’re super invested in, but they don’t really do anything with them other than create increasingly complex lore and compare them with each other. (They’re always arguing over which one would win in a fight.)

💚Faye’s really sweet to everyone else, but I like to think she’ll bully Dom any chance she gets.

🧡I also feel like Faye likes giving Dom space buns because they look funny, but Dom’ll usually keep them in since they keep his bangs out of his face.

💚Faye loves platonic hand-holding.

🧡Dom probably collects random acorns and pinecones. (Thank you @ratkingnezu for randomly looking over my shoulder and suggesting this lol.)

💚They also probably have all sorts of knick-knacks resembling birds and rodents and insects scattered all around their room. (And they all have names and despite taking up so much space, Dom and Faye refuse to part with any of them.)

🧡They’re both hoarders. They’ll be going through all their stuff and find some random ribbon they took off a Christmas present and be like: “…but what if I NEED IT-” and then they’ll immediately forget about it like two days later.

💚Speaking of Christmas, I feel like they’d both hate Christmas music. (They hear Mariah Carey on the radio in November and suddenly they’re filled with dread.)

🧡I feel like these two would hate clothes shopping. If they ever needed anything, they’d probably just go to a Target or something.

💚Also, if they see anything that looks remotely soft in a store, they have to go and feel it.

🧡They probably hate coffee with a burning passion. (And I like to think they’re both juice-box addicts.)

💚I feel like Dom and Faye were the type of kids who weren’t allowed to have phones ‘til they were around 12-14, so up until then, they were probably just sent outside and told to be back before dinner. (Optional.)

🧡But quickly after Faye got a phone she got addicted to Instagram and now spends several hours scrolling each day.

💚These two probably prefer the company of animals over people, honestly. Neither of them understand people very well.

🧡Dom seems like the type of guy to be just a little bit obsessed with his friends. Like not even in a romantic way. He’s just… really clingy. (He’s probably not used to having someone other than Faye to talk to. So when he does find someone he sticks to them like glue.)

💚Meanwhile, I feel like Faye’s a lot more introverted. She’s more than comfortable being alone, and she doesn’t really mind that Dom’s technically her only friend. (All she really needs to be content is Dom and her spiders. Neither of which are going anywhere anytime soon.)

🧡I feel like Faye tends to go non-verbal whenever she’d overwhelmed or overstimulated. Whenever this happens, Dom’ll usually take her somewhere quiet, and hold her hand silently as she calms down.

💚She probably also has some noise-cancelling headphones she brings whenever she goes out to loud or crowded spaces.

🧡Meanwhile, Dom will do everything he can to mask and pretend he’s fine and he’ll literally be on the verge of a meltdown with tears streaming down his face all like: “No, no I’m fine, I just something in my eyes.”

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday

Oh hey it's Wednesday and I've got some snippets. I've been sharing...maybe oversharing? So there is a possibility some of you have seen some of this and for that I'm sorry and not sorry. LOL I've got a few plates spinning and one I'm going to do my best to keep quiet as I get it really spinning because it's using Shattered Space storybeats and that's still pretty dang fresh so I'm going to not share that a bunch....

But I also have some new stuff set in the Lyssa Shrike 'verse with early starborn!Sam and I can share that with ease.

Also I have a new chapter for my f04 fic that just went live on ao3. You can find the post for it by clicking here looking at my previous post on my blog 😅

anyway my WIP Wed snippet under the read more:

In the end Jacob ordered Lillian to get the hell out of his family’s home and watched Cora while Sam went out to the Empty Nest to grab the artifact. Jacob wasn’t told any of that, simply that Constellation had interest of something out in the frontier and needed Sam to look into it. He didn’t even ask to see the maps, the location burned into his memory after a half dozen trips through Unity. Just assured the old man he’d be back before sundown and gave Cora a big hug before heading off into the wild savanna for a shiny hunk of metal.

It was still strange to him that some of the artifacts always showed up in the same place. But only some. The one found in the NASA lab on Earth wasn’t all that surprising as it had to be there for the timeline to have grav drives. But then there was the one on Bindi that Barrett always located before his arrival. And the one on Vectera, where some unlucky dusty would find it and likely die trying to fight the pirates of the Crimson Fleet. Then there was the one on Akila and the one at the Nishina lab out in the outer starfield. He wondered the significance of those locations. Why Mars, where Aiza found his prize hundreds of years prior? Why Akila? Or the meager moons of Bindi and Vectera? Or Freya III? Why were they special?

Now that they were back at the Lodge Sam wanted to rest for a bit. He was still adjusting to the reality that he’d be in this universe for a while. He hadn’t planned on staying but then his cinnamon gumdrop caught him. He needed to stay for her, needed to give her structure, to help her keep the good thing she had going here at the Lodge. It was a lot to adjust to after jump after jump rushing to the end goal with a blind fervor. Wanting to get to the next universe, to get away from the reminders that Lila was out there, happy in the arms of some lucky Sam that wasn’t him.

The garden was quiet with most of the Lodge out on errands or jobs. Cora was in the library with another new book curled up on the couch. He leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head with his adventurers hat sat low to block the sunlight shining through the glass ceiling. Just a quick rest before Sarah and Walter came back from their meeting at MAST and started barking fresh orders.

The doors to the library creaked open and a familiar voice called over to the hearth, “Hola mija! Que pasa?��

“Hey Uncle Gabi,” Cora called back, “I was just reading one of my new books. How’d your last job go?”

“Got a little livelier than planned,” Delgado chuckled, “found us a new member.”

“Oh yeah!” Cora said, “Hi, hi! I’m Cora Coe.”

There was a long pause before Delgado let out another laugh, more awkward than before, “This is Lyssa Shrike. She’s still a touch overwhelmed with it all. She’s the one who brought home the plate from Vectera.”

“Oh, right!” Cora was moving through the library now, the tension in the room trickling into the garden, forcing Sam to sit up, “Noel mentioned that when we got back from Akila. She said when the artifacts started doing that,” there was a pause, “that you got thrown and had to sleep it off.”

“Something like that,” the woman’s voice was stilted. She was fighting something back and Sam wasn’t sure if it was tears or rage. From where he sat it felt like it could go either way.

“Your dad nearby?” Delgado asked.

“He’s in the garden,” Cora voice grew closer as she spoke, “might be napping though. Akila was a tri-ip.”

“It always is when your grandfather is involved,” Delgado appeared in the doorway with Cora and stopped as she continued to join Sam at the table, “Noel said you found an artifact out in the frontier?”

“Yup,” Sam said while he fixed his hat. He saw apprehension in Delgado’s eyes before the explorer glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Lyssa to join them. The tension was growing thicker, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, “apparently one of Solomon’s old finds was home to one. Jacob would say I ruined the place by taking the artifact but—“

“That’s why we didn’t tell him where you were going,” Cora finished with a big grin.

“Exactly.” Sam winked at her.

Cora leaned in while Delgado whispered something at the newest member and got in his ear, “I think we have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Sam tore his eyes off the door to look at his ward.

“Lyssa?” Cora nearly hissed the name as she stared at him with a ‘think’ look, “When I said my name her face dropped like I’d dropkicked her in the gut. And when I mentioned you were in the library something switched in her eyes. I don’t think the name is a coincidence.”

“She found the artifact on Vectera,” Sam whispered back, “shit.”

“Yes, shit,” Cora stood back up and put her grin back on, her voice still quiet, “I got your back.”

[twoplantsinatrenchcoat]

Hello, I wanted to post about two people who are important to me, David Gonzalez and Elizabeth Tiralongo. I spent the best year of my life with them and would like to share my memories of them both.

I met them both in the Cypress Astronomy Club. Here are their entries in the yearbook, as well as the going away party. All of the people in this photo meant the world to each other and the Astronomy Club was the best friend group in Cypress no question.

Admittedly I didn’t know David for very long but he’s not exactly the type of person you forget. He’s boisterous and legally too funny. A room with just David is technically a party. I’m not especially funny but with him it never mattered - An image, a song, a typo, are all enough of a prompt for the funniest 5 minutes of your life. We drove around playing Pokemon Go for the summer of 2018, competing to give each other gifts from ever-stranger locations (He toured Europe and had me beat for a long time). He was a light to everyone around him and I’ll miss him so.

Lissie was inarguably my best friend in high school. Here are some pics of them.

Lissie was a superfan of movies and music and made it everyone else’s passion too through recommendations and lists catered to those around them. My movie recs had a mix of classics like Citizen Kane, Cinema Paradiso, and Contact; along with more modern animated movies like Princess Mononoke, La Luna, and Grave of the Fireflies. Their taste in songs was equally split between classic crooners, Italian love songs, indie rock, and electro music. All these songs are Lissie’s. The first messages we have on record are us bonding over Porter Robinson and Madeon, and the rest is history.

Lissie was a remarkable painter. Their subjects included flowers, space, and the uniquely human desire to explore them both. Like any true artist Lissie had hundreds of WIPs stashed under their bed but you can find the ones made public on their art insta @lissies.art . This painting is a personal favorite because it’s a quote from Galileo about not denying beautiful observations of the universe. https://www.instagram.com/p/CmBHqbNOGYk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

Lissie was the first person I’d regularly texted and talked to in a long time, and it was too fun. Through a lot of sharing and perhaps oversharing we talked about hopes and dreams and what we wanted to do in our time. I spent a lot of nights tutoring them in exchange for conversation and stories, and Lissie was genuine and hilarious to pass time with.

There is no one that has altered the direction of my life more than Lissie. I’ve always waltzed blindly through STEM classes because they were what I was good at, but not what I am passionate about. I’ve never had a watertight answer for why I major in what I do. Lissie’s impassioned and almost frenzied speeches on the beauty of space and our place in it are something I would wish on everyone. They had such a clear direction of where they wanted to go with their life: Towards space and towards their friends and family. I promised Lissie I’d put something of theirs into space and I fully intend to. Here I’m switching colleges to UCF vs U-M in July, following Lissie’s lead.

Lissie was and is well loved by everyone they’ve ever met. The feeling was mutual. Lissie left constant reminders that they loved us and cared about us. It was hard to even narrow it down to one picture. Saying their friends and family meant the world to them is an understatement - Lissie would’ve preferred “the cosmos” anyway.

This is my astronomy shirt now. It’s the only shirt I have from Cypress. The colors have faded a little, but only due to frequent wear. Until we see them next, we’ll have to keep the faith that they’re out there, dancing in the stars we have yet to see.

[donutloverxo]

Stevie's new beard

*gif by @marvelheroes*

Birthday shot #2 & Kinktober day 8 - Beard kink

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - You have some strong feelings about Steve’s new look.

Warnings - 18+ only please, smut(m/f), dom Steve, daddy kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x female reader

Word count - 2.5k

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

One more swift turn over the corner, your eyes squinting as you tried to concentrate, “That’ll show him,” grumbling under your breathe, pressing the scissors down, “done.” With a smirk on your face.

You had been working on cutting out Steve’s face from your honeymoon album. An album you had spent hours on, your blood, sweet and tears, literally, you must’ve gotten like five paper cuts working on it. But none of that mattered. You were mad.

No, you were fuming.

The previous year, you hadn’t been able to celebrate your birthday with Steve since he was called on an emergency mission. Which was fine at the time you had only been dating for a few weeks. And when he went to Siberia over a month ago, you thought he’d be back for your birthday for sure. Then you’d get to have him pamper you and baby you for the whole day, not that you needed such an excuse, but still.

It was one in the morning, your birthday had already started and you doubted that Steve would be able to make it. He had gone silent a week ago, for his teams and your safety.

Well, by the time he’s back you’ll have cut him out of all your pictures. Maybe you’d even go stay at your sister’s for a while. You missed her and needed a vacation and teach Steve a lesson. You wouldn’t be back until he’s growling on his knees - begging for your forgiveness.

Or maybe... he wouldn’t care. Maybe he’d be glad that you’re gone. You didn’t know what you’d do if that happened, you always seem to be weighing him down. You understood that being married to Captain America meant that you had to share him with the rest of the world. Most of times, you were alright with that. You didn’t care much for the Captain, he was fine but he was no Steve Rogers.

You sighed, giving up on your little project, thinking about maybe calling it a night. Hopefully your friends remember your birthday and do something special for you.

Slipping into Steve’s t-shirt – because as much as you were mad at him, you really did miss him. This was the longest you had been away from him.

Fluffing your pillow, keeping Mister Steebie next to you, you climbed on top of it. Ready to switch off the lights -

“Hey there, sweetheart,” you gasped when you heard the low rumble, clutching your neck, taken aback and panting.

Taking a deep breathe, you looked at your door over your shoulder, sighing when you noticed it’s Steve.

Except it wasn’t...?

“What the fuck?” you frowned and did a double take.

Getting off your bed and walking over to the door. He was still dressed in his dark stealth suit, his dirty blonde hair swept back, his jaw covered in a thick beard - a few shades darker than his hair.

You stopped a few steps away from him, taking in his new look. You didn’t know what to make of it but it did make you shiver - for some reason.

Your lips pressed in a flat line as you stared at him. He spread his arms out, in an attempt to hug you, probably, trying to close the distance between you but you took a step back. Eyeing him suspiciously.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he tilted his head to the side, giving you his Disney eyes.

“What’s wrong with your face?” you spat.

“What do you mean?” his eyebrows scrunched together as he rubbed a hand over his beard.

“Don’t do that!” you admonished him, folding your hands under your titts, perking them up.

“Do what?” scratching his beard, “You’re not making any sense, doll. Didn’t you miss me?”

“I did,” you huffed, “Do you know what date it is?”

“Yes, I do know. That’s why I’m here. I got back as soon as the mission wrapped up. Now come here and let me give you a birthday kiss,” extending an arm towards you.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head.

“Why?” he pouted. “I made it back in time, just like I said I would. I missed you, come on just one kiss... wait a minute. Is this about the beard?” You nodded. “You hate it? Tony said you would, I just didn’t have time to shave. I’ll go do it now then.” Since he was desperate for kisses and cuddles.

“No, don’t!” You pressed a palm on his chest, in an effort to stop him. “I mean, sure if you want to... but I don’t hate it. It’s kind of the opposite... I think. I just need time to process this.”

“Doll,” he exasperated, sighing, 'politely’ trying to tell you off. “I’m tired. And you’re really not making any sense.”

“I just fucking love your beard, ok!” you snapped. Your cheeks heating up at the brash confession. Clenching your thighs together. You shouldn’t like it as much as you did. It hides Steve’s beautiful face and makes him look so feral and dangerous. So not Steve.

“Really?” he quirked a brow, pulling you flush against his chest, “how much do you like it, puppy?”

“I - I don’t know...” Still embarrassed, you hide your face over his heart, rubbing your cheek against the rough kevlar of his suit. “I like it a lot, I think. Please keep it?”

He hummed, “But you won’t even look at me.”

“It’s a lot to take in, okay? It’s like, ugh remember when you saw me in my wedding dress?”

He'd never forget, he had cried like a baby. “This is nothing like that,” he rolled his eyes.

“It’s... give me some time. Small steps.” Bringing up a shaky hand to touch his soft fuzzy jaw, “Oh! Remember that time I bought that forties style nightie. And you went to town on me?” looking up at him, “This is like that.”

He nodded, finally understanding. “I get it, doll. But I’m afraid I don’t have time for ‘small steps’. I missed you so much,” Rutting his erection into your belly - as if to physically prove it. “And I need to make your birthday special. Treat the birthday girl right, huh?” He pressed his thumb on your cheekbone, caressing it, dipping his neck down to kiss you but you pulled away.

You hugged him again, standing on your tippy toes and nuzzling your nose in the crook his neck, his beard tickling you ever so slightly.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it. That I’d be all alone.” You whined. And then he comes back looking this good! Making it impossible for you to stay mad at him.

“Of course, I made it. Couldn’t let my best girl be alone. Now let me kiss you,” you shook your head again, “fine then. We can do your small steps. Let me eat you out,” biting the shell of your ear, “I’m hungry, doll.”

There was no way you could say no to that. “Oh - okay,” you gulped a huge lump of air.

Suddenly, he swept you off your feet, throwing you over his shoulder, his hand kneading your ass before smacking it, “Missed this sweet ass too.” he said, throwing you on top of the mattress. “I like this shirt on you, pup,” he smiled, his heart swelled as he felt strangely possessive of you, hovering above you, “But it had to come off.”

With a lack of finesse, his greedy hands ripped the poor clothing to shreds. He hadn’t gone so long without you. He needed to be inside you as soon as he could.

“Stevie!” You tried to chastise him.

He threw the shirt away, growling at the sight of your naked breasts, your hard pebbles, your hands coming up to cover them from his dark eyes. That won’t do, he pulled them away, pinning them beside your head. “What do you think you’re doing?” he frowned

You shuddered. Really, a beard shouldn’t make that much of a significant difference but it made him all the more intimidating. “Sorry, daddy.” You pouted. If nothing else, the D-word always worked.

He shook his head, capturing a nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. He made sure to run his beard over your breast. Letting go of your twisting hand as it clenched on the back of his head. Your back arching, pushing more your body to him.

With a loud ‘pop’ he let go of your hard nub, shoving two fingers in your mouth and ordering you to suck and like he obedient doll you were - you followed.

He pulled his fingers out, snaking his hand between your legs, dipping them in your heat. Then he noticed it and frowned.

Looking to his side, a sack of flour? No, looked fluffy enough to be cotton. “What is this?” he wanted to know.

You were too far gone to even register his words but you vaguely heard him. You bit your lip, following his eyes. “Oh, that’s Mister Steebie.”

“What?”

“That’s you. I missed you and I needed a cuddle buddy. So I stuffed some cotton in a sack, dressed him in your flannel and drew your face on him.”

His 'face' was just two dots with a blue sharpie, golden hair on his head and a pink mouth. “It’s cute.” he chuckled, grabbing ‘Steebie' and putting him on the floor, “But you don’t need him. You have the real thing now,” he reminded you, trailing kisses down your body, pushing your thighs apart to make room for him and settling between them.

“I suppose I should upgrade him now. Draw the beard on. I wonder if I have a brown sharpie,” you mused, yelping when you felt his teeth grazing over your clit. “God!” you heaved, propping yourself up on your elbows you looked down at him. A few strands of his hair had fallen on his forehead, he looked ethereal. “You’re so pretty, Stevie.” Your hand caressing his face.

He leaned into it, having been touch starved for over a month. “You’re the pretty one, pup. Now, will you be good for me? Let me treat my birthday girl right?”

You nodded. Laying back down, running your fingers through his longer locks.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he asked

“No, I followed your rules.”

“Good, I didn’t either.” Not that he had the time or space to anyway. But he wanted to save himself for you.

“Thor told me, women like a nice thick beard,” rubbing his face on your inner thighs, “he’s a bit of an oversharer. But I knew you’d like it too. Guess I was right.” He was smug about it too. He knew you inside and out. More than anybody else, maybe more than you know yourself.

He pushed your thighs apart as you squirmed above him, trying to clamp them on his head. “Now, sweetheart. I thought you promised to be good. Do I need to tie you up?”

You furiously shook your head. “No, please! I’ll be good.” Normally, you’d love to be tied up. But you needed to touch him, his face and his hair.

“I know it’s hard, pup, just try a little harder,” He tongue nudging at your entrance. His fingers spreading your lips apart, “such a pretty pussy,” he praised.

Wrapping his mouth around your clit and pushing his fingers in your pussy. He made sure to gather as much of your slick over his beard as he could, to make a mess of it.

You threw your head back, trying your best to stay still, it was too overwhelming, too good, “Stevie! Stop, stop please,” you begged, pulling on his hair.

He immediately pulled away, hovering back over you, inspecting you for any distress.

“I want to come with you inside me. Please.” you said, fluttering your lashes.

He sighed, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Come on! It’s my birthday. You have to do as I say,” you giggled.

“As you wish,” he shook his head. He would’ve given in even if it wasn’t your birthday.

His fingers scrambling to get his dick out of his suit. Kissing your neck, sucking on your special spot, he pushed inside you. Digging his fingers in your hips, he bit your neck, “So fucking tight, doll.” He groaned, he was at the end of his rope, he couldn’t take it anymore, snapping his hips with a swift thrust he buried himself inside you.

“Stevie,” you mewled, feeling his tip pressing against your special spot. “Right there!”

Pulling his cock out and then pushing back, “Here?” he wiggled his hips, pressing his lips to your jaw.

“Yeah,” you gave a shaky reply. Already on the edge as he kept ramming in on your g-spot. “Steve, kiss me please?” You needed to feel his lips on yours, to feel his beards on your face.

Circling a hand under your waist to pull you up and closer to him, his hips setting a punishing pace, he crashed his lips on yours. Clashing your teeth together. He moaned as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, before kissing him again.

Letting go of his lips, just for a second to pepper kisses all over his beard and then kissing him deeply.

You clenched around his length, pulling his hair, biting the hilt to his jaw to stifle your scream. Waves of pleasure crashing over you one after another.

He came right after you, with a few more thrusts, filling you to the brim. He collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you.

He laid beside you, on his side your bodies still connected. He couldn’t have any of his spend escaping your tight cunt.

He kissed the crown of your head. “You liked your first gift?” he asked as you hummed. “Don’t worry, I got plenty more for you.” he smirked already feeling himself get hard again in your pussy.

When you were quiet for a while, so unusual for you, your fingers playing with his beard, “What’s wrong, pup?” He tilted your face up so he could see it.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. Suddenly feeling guilty for ruining your precious pictures. “They need you more than I ever will - your team and this world.”

“That’s... true. You don’t need me. You’re a strong woman, if anything I need you. But that’s a good thing, sweetheart. You want me. And that's enough for me.”

“Really?” Your lips curling up in a big grin as you nuzzled his beard, feeling awfully proud of yourself.

Steve’s heart was big enough to share him with the entire world. That he could still love you more than you could even begin to comprehend. And always make his way back to you. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

[sanris3]

A fine line

Pairing: reader x san Genre: friends to lovers(?)/angst Summary: You realize you're in love with your best friend San and unsure how to approach it. Playing with the thin line between friends and lovers. author notes: This is my first piece in a while, I hope everyone enjoys it! in a silly goofy mood at 5am Word Count: 1.6k

The both of you definitely started off on the wrong note. When you and San were first introduced to each other, it was difficult to get close to him. He radiated this intimidating aura and with your shy self, there was no way you'd approach someone like him. You had mutuals through a couple friend groups, it was only natural that you'd end up friends. However, there had been a misunderstanding through a mutual friend and you never thought to clear the air.. because after all, you weren't in a position to fight for the friendship anyway. The both of you left it as it is. Fast forward to 2 years later and the two of you are closer than ever. There was a stark difference between your personalities, hobbies, hell- even the way you both processed things were different. But oddly enough, you guys make it work. You were the epitome of 'opposites attract.' You'd never expect that a toxic relationship would deem you two as inseparable. San struggled a lot and you were there for him whenever he needed a shoulder to lean on. No one understood him but you oddly did. Looking at his situation, you found yourself looking in the mirror recognizing you had been in his position just a year ago. You desired to be there for him. You were reminded of the turbulent moments and unexplainable behaviors that took place- and unknowingly, you began to prioritize him. Not in a romantic way- more so, just ensuring San is doing okay because after all, he is your best friend. All you could think about were the empty moments you experienced when you went through the same thing, you didn't want him to believe no one understood him, because you did. How delightful would it have been if you had someone like this to root for you back then? San allowed himself to become comfortable with you. Sharing each vulnerable thought was a common conversation you two had and honestly- it was fascinating to learn how aware he was about his emotions because all this time, you believed he was emotionally constipated. Even after being friends for so long, the conversations you had never reached the depth that they did now. This was a sign he genuinely acknowledged you to be his closest friend. You'll never overlook the excitement you experienced at the realization he trusts you at his most vulnerable moments. It was happiness. This is what it feels like to have a friendship reciprocated. Vulnerable. Stable. Consistent. Several months go by and that relationship ends. You adhere to his side until the end, making sure he's completely taken care of; and even though it's challenging, you walk him through the emotions, keeping him together at his roughest moments. You had become his pillar. And that's exactly what you did, until, he suddenly cut off contact with you. You understood his heartbreak. He needed time to heal, but that time apart managed to lead through the most confusing part of your friendship. You missed him terribly but what could you do? He needed his space and you respected that. You hear from him for the first time for what feels like forever and you notice something is off. There's something about his aura that shifted- and you couldn't figure it out. Both of you are nervous to talk to each other after the sudden break but as always, you get through it and pick up on the flow once again. But this time it's different. There was a new feeling of awareness in your stomach when you got a notif from him- and for so long, you assured yourself it was because you missed him. Which was true. (at least for now.) There were many instances where you wanted to reach out and invade his space but that would only harm your friendship, and that was the furthest thing you desired to do. But you couldn't help yourself, you grew anxious that he would disappear on you again and started attaching yourself to him a different way and it was a scary feeling because you knew where this would lead to. "She was my person. It was rocky but I've never loved anyone so hard," he says amidst another vulnerable conversation. You try to bring him comfort by wrapping your arms

around him, gently pulling him in for a hug as he sobs again for the night. Your hands rub against his back, gently finding a pace. You feel his grasp on you tighten, hands clinging to you like you'll slip away. But you stay there, bringing him all the comfort he needs, he was still healing. There was that feeling again. Like always, you brushed it aside and never dared to ponder upon it. For the first time, your heart sinks when he's talking about her. It's a good day for both of you. Throughout your hangout you're able to pick up conversations like before, San is starting to smile again and joke a lot more often, the bright San you knew was returning and you were genuinely happy for him. "I knew you'd turn out okay, if I did, you would. It just took some time." you blurt out in the middle of silence as the two of you are watching a movie. He stops in his tracks to turn towards you, "Thank you." His lips curve up into a warm smile with his arms reaching out, unexpectedly pulling you into his arms. "You know, I'm sorry for disappearing. You've been nothing but good to me through everything. I'm grateful to have you around, I promise I'll return everything." You go along with it, loosely wrapping your arms around his frame. "It's okay." You answer with a pause before continuing. "I missed you a lot." "I did too."

There it is again. That feeling. As time went by, it was growing difficult to ignore the little jump in your heart seeing anything of him. A text? A call? Hanging out? Your wavering heart couldn't ignore. The overwhelming feeling was too much for you to handle so that day you ignore San for your sake. You took the day off to think about your feelings for the first time. Why him? Why now? It was hard to understand the sudden change in heart. You pondered over and over again if this was true. Overthinking leads one thing to another and the next thing you know, you're on your bed crying endlessly in the sheets. Out of all people, your feelings were stirred up by Choi San. For the next few months, it was a brutal game of push and pull. Not between you and San, but you and yourself. Slowly, you were filled with frustrations no one but him had answers to, it was driving you insane; One moment you would see San as a friend, then it would be more than that. The friendly gestures you were recieving from him were transforming to a different meaning in your heart. The pet names, the random compliments, the sporadic oversharing- oh you wished that it would stop. But a part of you knew you were acting like this due to the fact you were hyper aware of your feelings.

At one point you wondered what it would be like to feel his lips against yours. It was a confusing cycle you couldn't stand to seperate from him. How bad could it be if you started and ended things on your note? But if you revealed your heart, what if it backfired? There was a chance you'd lose your best friend and it was too risky to cross that line. You were desperate enough to go on dates, and of course, San encouraged you through all of them. There was a clear answer to your questions but the little hope you had in you, kept praying. Just maybe. You wanted San to feel the same way. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or you were tired of stringing yourself along- so you initiated the conversation about dating again. Of course, you were extremely careful with how you apporached the situation; One mess up and it'll change the dynamic of your bond forever. You thought about what would happen far ahead. Sure he accepts your feelings and there's might be connection but what if you guys aren't compatiable as lovers? would the both of you have the courage to love like you haven't been hurt? "San- Can I ask you for advice on something? Or not really advice.. but your input." The brunette gears his attention towards you fully, emmitting the same flustering feeling in your stomach. But you don't react physically.

"Is it something serious?" "Yeah sort of-" "Is this another joke you're play-" "I'm serious!" "Okay, what's up?" "what do you think about dating a friend?-" "what?" "just answer the question." "I'm scared it'll happen again." " yeah same, I get you." The both of you return to the movie, carrying on like the conversation didn't happen. The air turned thick. At one point the comfortable silence grew suffocation. Did he catch on or are you thinking too much? For the first time you realized how dangerous that fine line between friends and lovers were. In the end, you didn't want him to take responsibility for your actions. Why should San suffer because of your feelings? that was the last thing you wanted. Sure, you won't be able to kiss him and hug him, or feel his embrace in a much more intimate way- but he was by your side and that mattered. With that, you were happy and content. Even if his heart wasn't yours. "San?" "Yeah?" "I'm really grateful you're my best friend." "I could say the same."

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

Changing Spirits (Zuko x Reader) [Everything Has Changed Part 3]

Title: Changing Spirits Summary: You settled in with the gang, but are confronted by a very real issue when Zuko reveals that he's 'lost' his fire bending ability. You also relive memories of the past Warnings: None really Request: Some of you wanted part 3 so here it is!!

A/N: Been recieving a lot of positivity and love on the last two parts so thank you for that! xx

PART 1: EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED PART 2: CHANGE IS GOOD PART 3: CHANGING SPIRITS PART 4: A HEART OF CHANGE

Zuko~Changing Spirits

Waking up in a new environment was strange. It was colder than the fire nation, a gentle breeze could be felt through out the temple. It wasn't unwelcomed, however. You shifted in your bed, and glanced over at Zuko. He was still asleep, and for the first time in forever he looked relaxed. You gently rise and prop yourself up with one hand, and slowly take in the room.

     It felt weird to be in a place like this.

    The fire nation had always taught you growing up that it was the most glorious nation in existence: that it had the best architecture, the most clever scientists, the only worthy culture- and yet you find yourself almost in awe here. How different would've it have been had it not been for your people 100 years ago... You try not to think about it.

    Taking one last look at Zuko, you get out of bed. You decide to leave him sleeping. He looks so peaceful, it would be a shame to disturb him. And, besides, you know he needs the sleep. He hadn't slept well in the fire nation; he told you himself. He couldn't sleep, not with the guilt he felt. You wished you could sleep longer too; you know you need the rest. Hunger calls you, though, and so does curiosity. Although you feel nervous about how the gang will react to you, you know that they wouldn't deny you food. Or, at least, you hoped they wouldn't.

---

"Hi," you awkwardly say as you leave the temple, approaching the group of misfit teens in front of you, "Uh, I just wondered if I'd missed breakfast..."

    You feel stupid now after saying it out loud, and you want the ground to swallow you whole as there is no immediate reply from the gang. Your heart begins to sink, and you want to back away, but you lift your head as you hear Toph speak.

    "I thought you and moody were never going to get up," Toph teases with a smile on her face, "Breakfast is over there."

     "Thank you," you murmur, "Zuko is sleeping in- yesterday was quite a long day."

     You sit down next to Sokka, making sure to leave enough space between the two of you so that you don't offend him or make him uncomfortable. You grab a bowl of breakfast- it smells delicious. Doing your best to be quiet and let the others speak, you listen to their conversation. It's hard to imagine less than a year ago this is who you were hunting. So much has changed. You were deep in thought, only to be brought from it by Sokka's voice.

    "So what's the deal with you and the prince of darkness anyway? Are you dating or something?" Sokka asks and you are kind of taken aback. `      You look up, a blush on your face.

     "Ur, no... No, it's not like that," you insist.

     "Your heart rate says otherwise," Toph laughs.

     You shoot her a look that you're sure she can feel.

     "We're just friends. We've been friends since we were kids. His mum... She took me in when my parents died. My father- he lost his life in the war and my mother... She was very ill for a long time. I owe Zuko and his mother my life," you open up to them, "I'm sorry I overshared I didn't-"

     "-I'm sorry that happened to you," Aang says, "That can't have been easy to share."

    "I don't think I've told anyone else that. Showing emotion in the fire nation is weakness," you tell them, "I know it's no excuse but I was brain washed from a young age. I'm glad I'm out here, doing the right thing."

     "You're right it doesn't excuse the things you've done," Katara says, "And, it can never undo the things you've done."

     "Katara, I-"

    "-But, I'm glad you've joined us."

    "You are?"

    "I saw how hard you fought to save us from-"

    "-Combustion Man," Sokka interrupts.

    Katara glares at him before continuing, "Yes, Combustion Man, and I don't entirely trust you or Zuko yet because that comes with time but I'm glad you chose the right side."

    "I know I can never undo what I've done, but I have changed. I'm sorry for what the fire nation did to your village- to all of your homes, and all of your families... The fire nation did a lot more than attack other nations- first they started with their own. I don't want the fire nation to be seen like that anymore.

      My grandmother used to tell me stories of what the world was like before the war: all I want is to do my part in restoring that world. "

    You and Katara share a look, and for the first time since you joined the Avatar, you finally have a moment of understanding.

---

When Zuko wakes up, he is alone. Panic sets in and he thinks something is wrong. But, then he waits and listens; he calms down when he hears your voice. It sounds like you're talking to the gang. Zuko can't help but smile when he hears your laughter. He hesitates for a second, before getting out of bed, and following the sound of your voice down the halls.

---

You hear footsteps and your head turns. It's Zuko: you smile at him and gesture for him to come over. He follows your lead cautiously and sits beside you. You serve him a bowl of breakfast, and go back to listening to the group talk. From one side, you can feel Zuko looking at you. When you gaze towards him, he looks away.

    "How did you sleep?" you murmur to Zuko.

    "Good..." Zuko replies, "What about you? You weren't there when I woke up."

    "Oh, sorry," you say, putting your bowl of breakfast down, "I didn't want to wake you up. You looked like you needed a few more minutes."

     Zuko blushes, but doesn't say anything else.

     The day rolls on, and Zuko begins trying to teach Aang how to how to fire bend, which was proving more and more difficult by the hour. You decided not to watch them train. You'd sparred with Zuko on many occasions, and you thought your presence wouldn't make the situation any better. So, you decided to try and bond with the girls of the group.

     Meanwhile, Sokka was dedicated to annoying Zuko.

    "Come on Sifu Hotman," Sokka teased, "Where's your giant flames now?"

    "I'm trying Sokka," Zuko said through gritted teeth, "Maybe it's that I can't concentrate when the only thing I can hear is the sound of your voice!"

    "Maybe we should get your girlfriend to come and give you a pep talk," Sokka laughed.

    Aang suppressed a laugh under his hand.

    "Y/N isn't my girlfriend," Zuko yelled back.

    "I never mentioned anything about Y/N- but if the shoe fits..."

    "Go away!" Zuko fumed, resisting the urge to grab Zuko.

    "I think it's best if you leave, Sokka," Aang says trying to diffuse the situation.

    Sokka glanced at Aang and then gave a shrug. He made his way over to the rest of the gang, ignoring the glare he could feel in the back of his head- mostly likely from Zukko. ...Who was he kidding? It was definitely from Zuko. For some reason talking about you was a really good way to push Zuko's buttons. Sokka didn't mean anything malicious by it, but it was a small revenge to annoy him about you.

    The water tribe boy sat down beside his sister with a huff.

    "Got bored of watching the fire bending did we?" Katara asked.

    "No, mostly because there wasn't much fire bending going on," Sokka said, before looking at you, "And, by the way your boyfriend is being extra moody today."

    "He's not my- You know what, never mind," you stop yourself, "Wait, what do you mean by there wasn't much fire bending going on? Zuko's an excellent fire bender. You've all seen it- ah sorry Toph, I mean experienced it."

     "No sweat," Toph reassures.

     "I don't know," Sokka says, "All I know is that Sifu Hotman wasn't very hot."

     "...That's strange," you murmur.

---

When Zuko and Aang come back later, you can tell something is off. Zuko seems upset, and angry... And, disappointed. You paused for a moment before saying anything. Something big was off. You'd seen Zuko grumpy before, but this wasn't just some small irritation. This was something huge.

     "Listen everybody," Zuko announced, "I've got some pretty bad news. I've lost my stuff."

     He sighs and looks down. 'His what?' you thought.

     "Don't look at me," Toph exclaimed folding her arms, "I didn't touch your stuff."

     "I'm talking about my fire bending. It's gone," Zuko corrected.

     No, it couldn't be. That didn't make any sense. Zuko couldn't have lost his fire bending. He needed to teach Aang fire bending. Aang needed to master all four elements to defeat the Fire Lord. Oh, this was bad this was really bad. Part of you heard the others speak, but you weren't really listening. You were too busy panicking.

     You interrupt them, "There's got to be a way to get it back though right?"

     Zuko just kept his eyes to the ground.

     "He just needs to go back to the original source of fire bending," Toph says confidently, "I learned earth bending from the badger moles. They were the original earth benders."

     "The dragons," you murmur, "They were the original fire benders."

     "And, they're extinct," Zuko huffs.

     "How? What happened? Roku had a dragon," Aang says.

     "They just are extinct okay?" Zuko snaps, turning away from the group.

     Even though the dragons were extinct, the culture that worshipped them still had ruins. And, they weren't too far away. It was worth a shot. Anything was at this point. It was Zuko's destiny to teach Aang fire bending, you know it was- and, yet it was getting so difficult so early on. You sighed and put your head in your hands. No. No, it was too early for defeat. Zuko and Aang needed to visit the Sun Warrior's ruins. It was at least worth a shot.

     Zuko and Aang had packed basic supplies and set off for the Sun Warrior's ruins. You tried not to feel too worried for them, but it was hard not to when you barely knew anything about the Sun Warriors. ...But, they went extinct so nothing good could've happened to them.

     "Try not to miss me too much," you say to Zuko.

     Zuko gives a small smile.

     You hesitate then bring him in for a hug.

     "Stay safe, okay?" you murmur more seriously.

     You feel him hug back.

     "I'll do my best to come back in one piece."

     "You better."

---

You were thinking about Zuko all the rest of the day. They were gone too long for your liking.  Sleeping alone in the room without Zuko didn't feel right. You tossed and turned and settled on your back. Your eyes stared up at the ceiling before your forced yourself to close them. You think back to all the times you spent sleeping beside Zuko- from sleep overs as a child, to on his war ship, to the small room in Ba Sing Sei... It didn't feel right: being without him.

     You thought back to when you were children and you had snuck into his room.

~~~

    "Zuko!" you yelled out, "Help me up."

    The little prince ran to his window to see you clutching at his balcony. You'd scaled the side of the building, and had your hand wrapped around one of the rungs of the balcony. Zuko grabbed at your hand, and hauled you onto the balcony. You laughed as you fell into a lump onto Zuko.

    "What the hell are you doing?" Zuko whisper-yelled, "Are you trying to wake everyone up?"

    "No," you smiled, "I was trying to see you."

     Zuko rolled his eyes.

    "You could just use the door you know," he said, cracking a smile.

    "Where's the fun in that?" you beamed, "Besides it was a very important mission: I hadn't seen you all day. I had to sneak in to make sure no enemies caught me."

     "Yeah, sorry about that... I had 'royal stuff' to do with my father. I'd much rather spend time with you."

      You smiled and begin telling him about your day, and your plans for tomorrow. Soon, it got later and later. The sun had set and you were both getting tired. You told Zuko you were going to go back to your room, but Zuko insisted you stay in his. You know- in case any enemies caught you. You caved in and clambered into his bed with him. It was your first sleep over ever!

     And, it wouldn't be your last.

     Zuko's mother opened the door, to check on her son. She smiled softly as she saw you and Zuko tucked up into bed. She didn't want to disturb you both so she just whispered good night, and gently closed the door. She always knew you and Zuko shared a life long bond.

      If only she could see you now...

~~~

You hadn't mean to sleep in... It just sort of happened. It was probably a sign though; you needed the rest, and you had finally let the weight of everything sink in. The reality of your situation was finally settling in, and despite the conflict you had initially faced, you were here. Alive. And, for now well.

     You'd were finally drawn from your sleep from a commotion. Voices.

     Your ears practically pricked up at the sound of footsteps. Were Aang and Zuko finally back? Your question was answered when Zuko stepped into the door frame. You chucked your bed sheets off and ran to him. It was him this time that brought you in for a hug.

     "You were gone so long."

     "I know, I'm sorry," Zuko murmured.

     "I hope this means you found something there," you say, breaking contact with him, "And, that you're a fire bending master again?"

      "You could say that. Let's just say the dragons aren't as extinct as we thought."

      "Good, because I was getting worried I was going have to take up the role of the grumpy fire bender in the group," you teased.

      "Oh, so what role do you take?"

      "I'm obviously the fun fire bender," you smiled, "Who brings the life to the party."

      "Oh yeah, obviously."

      Little did you know, Zuko had been thinking of you all the time he had been gone. As he learned about the original source of fire bending, he couldn't help but think back to you. And, he took you into his heart. Once, he was driven by anger and the desire to catch the Avatar.

     That had changed: his motivations had changed. His very spirit had changed. He now wanted to save the world.

     And, protect you.

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 9 ~The Christmas Spirits~

Previously in Christmas Eve Rush

Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes almost popped out at the realisation. "Good Lord. You're in love with her, aren't ye? It's all over your face. Oh my God!"

"Please? We dinnae have a lot of time," he whispered, almost close to tears. "Ye're the only one who can get through to Claire."

A few heartbeats passed as he held his breath. 

"Fine! Let's do this!" Suddenly spurred by excitement into action, she quickly grabbed a piece of paper and pen and handed it to him. "Write down your number, and I'll update you after I've called Claire."

"Ye will?"

"Yes, yes ..." she muttered. "Come on, chop-chop!" She clapped her hands at him.

Elated with the turn of event, he didn't waste any more time and rapidly scribbled his number and pushed the piece of paper back to her. "Thank ye. I owe ye big time." When an afterthought came to him, he shoved his hand into his pocket, took out a spare key to his cottage and placed it on the table. It was meant to be for Claire. "Another favour, I have a dog and kitten in the house and ..."

"I got it." She grinned and made a shooing motion. "Now go!"

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Claire sat at the airport's cafe, every sound of someone's laughter and the sight of happy couples holding hands, driving a knife into her chest. She still had a few hours to go before its time to go through security. With a heavy heart, she miserably flipped the pages of a glossy magazine, unseeing its pages' articles and pictures. It had taken every iota of her resolve and will power to leave Broch Mordha, and now Annalise had made her book a later flight because her friend was on the way and wanted to talk. Damn her for making this more difficult! In truth, she wanted to know what Jamie had told her friend and wondered what he would have said if she'd confronted him instead of running away. Now that she was finally out of his life was he even thinking about her? Staying in Broch Mordha would have most probably increased the likelihood of her believing his excuses and running back into his arms. She just couldn't handle the emotional fallout.

"I beg your pardon, is this seat taken?" a soft feminine voice asked.

Claire briefly glanced up, offered a weak smile and motioned for the woman to sit. She wasn't in the state nor mood for small talks so she put her head down and pretended to read, hoping the woman would take a hint.

Restless, she glanced again at her phone to check the time. Annalise should be here soon. Is she planning to fly with me? I hope not! She noticed the cafe was beginning to get busy with people waiting for love ones to arrive or the check-in counter to open. Tomorrow at this time, she'd be home. The thought of spending Christmas in London in the cramped apartment made her doubly miserable. She loved the open spaces of the Highlands and quaint villages. Although the weather could be quite grim, the landscape's natural beauty and loads of fresh air more than made up for it. With its tranquil settings, it was an ideal place to start her writing career. She'd put it on hold for far too long, working for a publishing company that gave her very little satisfaction and yesterday she'd even fantasised of moving to Broch Mordha and making it a reality to be closer to Jamie. How could I have been so stupid?

"Highlands in December is romantic, isn't it?" The woman sharing her table smiled pleasantly. "I love this place. There's something magical about it, don't you agree?"

Ah, another English woman to fall for the Highland charm! She was about to give some generic answer about the Highlands' ancient history lending the romance a hint of mysticism when the harsh truth chose that moment to free itself. "Kind of deceiving though, isn't it? I got caught up in that so-called magic, but some wanker decided to exploit it and use my heart to make fertiliser. I've only known him for a couple of days, but I can't stand being in this place anymore without thinking about him and his stupid, stupid handsome face. And the way he looked at me." She blew a breath and blinked back the tears. "I guess I was just plain naive and a bloody dimwit for thinking smooth talkers only existed in big cities like London. I tell you what, they're rife everywhere and you can never be too careful."

If the woman had been surprised by Claire's outburst, it didn't show. "Now, now, I'm quite sure there is a perfect explanation. Lovely and sweet as you look, I see the wisdom that belies your age in your eyes. You don't seem like a person to be taken by someone's smooth line at all."

She let out an almost deranged laugh. "Well, obviously, I am. I took one look at a beautiful face, and all logic went south. So there," Claire huffed.

The other woman looked away and sipped her tea. She was much older than Claire thought - in her forties maybe or could be fifties, but it was hard to tell. She had a dark, sleek modern bob hairstyle that contradicted the mumsy grey slacks, woollen jumper and lack of makeup and accessories. Her face was kind though, and there was a serenity in her demeanour she found comforting and familiar.

Claire regretted her oversharing and decided to shut her mouth and continued reading.

"I met my husband many years ago here. Not far from where we are now. A place called Broch Mordha."

Claire's head shot up. "Oh! Is your husband Scottish?"

"No, he's English. We met one summer while watching a Highland game. He lived in Broch Mordha while doing some research for work, and I was on holiday. We fell in love and eventually married. And every year from thereon we celebrated our anniversary here. It's a very special place for us."

"That's very sweet," Claire remarked, trying not to think of Jamie and what could have been for them if he hadn't been a knobhead.

The woman let out a soft laugh and daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Sweet isn't the description I would have used to describe the circumstance of how we met; nevertheless, it turned out my darling husband is my soul mate and marrying him had been the best decision I've ever made in my life."

"Good for you ..." Claire whispered, subtly glancing once more at the time on her phone. She hoped Annalise would be here soon because the last thing she needed right now was to hear someone else's happily forever after. But in the end, curiosity got the better of her. "So what made you change your mind about him?"

The woman sighed and took out her book. "My husband was an insensitive clod, and when he eventually saw the error of his ways and asked for forgiveness, I gave him a second chance. Forgiving him didn't change the past, and I realised in the end, if I hadn't forgiven him, my actions would have robbed me of the best years of my life. And of course, a beautiful daughter who turned out to be everything I've ever hoped for and much more." She smiled and then turned her attention to reading. Obviously, oversharing was now over.

"I see ..." Claire muttered. Well, what had she expected? A magical solution? She almost laughed out loud. No such thing!

It was too late for her and Jamie anyway. She was on her way to London, and he'd probably moved on now that she was gone. It was definitely better this way. Out of sight, out of mind.

**********

He switched off the ignition of his car and texted Annalise to inform her he'd arrived at his destination. She'd messaged him earlier letting him know Claire would be at D'Lish cafe. Scanning his vicinity, Jamie drew in a lungful of air. He'd only been in Inverness Airport's parking lot a few minutes, and already his nerves were on tenterhooks. From the congested traffic and beeping cars to stressed people madly rushing about, Jamie realised how far from his world he'd strayed, and the distance was only under an hour's drive. 

He hadn't even stepped out of his car, and already he was counting the minutes till he was back within the peaceful haven of Broch Mordha. But he'd made up his mind. He wasn't going back without Claire and had taken his passport with him just in case he would have to follow her all the way to London. How he was going to manage that with his unpredictable episodes, he had no idea. He hoped he would be able to keep his panic attacks at bay long enough until he found her and convinced her to come back home.

"I'll walk in with you," Harry said quietly out of the blue as if he'd sense his trepidation. "My flight isn't till later, and my wife is probably enjoying her cuppa tea somewhere."

The tightness in his body relaxed, and Jamie nodded gratefully. Harry seemed to always understand his situation, popping out of the blue at the strangest times. Jamie had never questioned it and put it down to simply Harry being unusually perceptive and a good friend.

They quietly walked side by side towards the airport and when they entered the building, moving bodies and a sea of faces swarmed his vision. The racket and clamour of people going about their business surrounded him, and Christmas crowds trying to make it home before Christmas jostled too close, their cacophony of voices chattering excitedly. 

Jamie swallowed the mounting panic and fixed his thoughts on Claire, breathing deeply in through his nose and with a heaving chest, letting it all out with a whoosh. His eyes darted and saw people smiling and nodding animatedly, laughter and children's squeals infiltrating his consciousness, their sound accompanied by an air of anticipation that told him it was a season of joy. 

Jamie managed to put a grim smile on his face and concentrated on getting one foot in front of the other, apologising now and again whenever he accidentally bumped into someone, almost stumbling like an intoxicated man. Although aware of Harry's presence, perspiration coated his skin, and he could feel a bead of sweat running down his temple. The usually comfortable soft fabric of his sweatshirt chaffed and squeezed him like a clamp almost suffocating him. The chaotic din typical of an airport during the holiday season came in a huge rush of waves, at first faint, then building to a deafening sound that roared in his ears, shattering his foundation and foothold. 

Oh, God, please, not now. Jamie knew it was happening. Attempting not to panic, he began to employ a technique that more often than not worked. He tried listening to his mother's singing in his head, the one that stuck most in his mind and brought him comfort when he'd been amidst a conflict in a war zone, a song that sang him to sleep when he was a wee bairn.

He stopped a few metres away from the cafe where Claire was supposed to be waiting and took a moment to draw in oxygen, clinging to his mother's singing in his head. Goodnight, you moonlight ladies. Rockabye, sweet baby, James. Deep greens and blues are the colours I choose. Won't you let me go down in my dreams? And rockabye, sweet baby, James. 

He dimly recognised where he was, busy eateries, cafes and shops lined a wide area, a focal point for those waiting for love ones to arrive or passengers before heading to security that led to the departure area. Someone's child screamed nearby, and the sound of suitcases dragging on its wheels seemed to rumble and reverberate on the ground. Christmas light decorations that normally shimmered unobtrusively and gave a soft glow suddenly seemed to flash all around him, and the Christmas songs playing in the background became disembodied sounds. Jamie froze, gripped in the throes of a colossal panic attack that forced him to sink halfway to his knees.

Everything seemed to fade in and out, but it was Harry's voice he eventually clung to, his mother's singing hushing into the recesses of his head. The Englishman repeated his name and grabbed hold of his elbow, preventing him from collapsing to the floor and leading him firmly away from the moving crowd. Jamie pitched himself against the giant column and fought the crippling dread chipping away at his sanity. 

He glanced around frantically, but Harry's hand grabbed his face and forced him to look straight into amber eyes. 

"Breathe, Jamie. Everything is going to be alright. Just keep breathing." 

"H-Harry ...I n-need to ..."

"It's alright. I know. I'm not going anywhere. Just breath."

Jamie unzipped his jacket and fought for air, sucking in a lungful. And then, again and again, gasping and coughing as he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. Harry's strong hand massaged his back in a circular motion, the older man's presence calm and controlled, breathing with him, encouraging to gradually take in more air. 

It took a while to normalise his breathing, his heart to calm down and the cold sweat to evaporate. As he regained more control, though wobbly at first, he straightened up. Gathering his bearings, he ignored the odd looks from passersby, by now already used to it.

Harry gave him a reassuring smile. "Feeling much better?" 

Jamie managed a nod as the initial feeling of shame and embarrassment took over the panic attack. Why am I even here? Claire deserved so much better than this and all his fucking issues. On top of it all, he'd managed to make her feel cheap when he was nothing but just half a man. There was no way she'd go back to Broch Mordha with him.

"Oh no, you don't. I know that look in your eyes. You've made it this far, old sport," Harry whispered fiercely, straightening his jacket. "Don't you even think of going back home without trying!" 

Jamie blinked, confused. What the fuck? What does Harry know? But there was no time to ask questions, as he caught a glimpse of Claire past Harry's shoulder. She was in the cafe in the motion of getting up, her head bowed down while speaking on the phone. 

Last night, he'd held Claire in his arms and now, the reality of the moment hit him hard as he saw her hand gripped the suitcase next to her, reminding him she's waiting to board a plane. He could hardly think over the furious pounding in his chest as a combination of relief at seeing her and fear of rejection surged through him. He barely registered himself, moving towards the cafe when Harry put a hand on his arm. He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You're on your own now. For now. Remember to breathe."

Jamie swallowed hard and nodded.

"Now go and hurry."

**********

Claire panicked, her eyes darting around the cafe. Annalise had just called and confessed Jamie was on his way to talk to her. Her friend had insisted on giving Jamie a chance to explain and that he'd made a mistake. 

But Claire couldn't do this. She didn't have this sort of experience nor the emotional strength to handle this kind of situation. All she knew and was aware of was how much Jamie had hurt her with his words. 

She quickly stood up, said goodbye to the woman sat on her table, grabbed her bags and made her way out of the cafe. She kept her head down and tried not to look around in case Jamie spotted her. She began to walk faster, weaving through crowds of travellers as she wheeled her suitcase, images of Jamie encroaching her thoughts. A new voice was trying to make itself heard, telling her maybe she ought to listen to what Jamie had to say. But what was there to say? She'd seen what he wrote with her own eyes, and there was no explaining himself out of it.

She was just getting into the queue for the security check when a shout cut through the hubbub surrounding her. 

"Sassenach!"

She stiffened, and her hand went slack around the suitcase's handle, sending its bulk toppling to the floor. It took a few heartbeats for her to turn around and face Jamie, afraid her resolve would collapse if she looked at him. When she finally saw him, he stood a few yards away, suspended in a sea of bustling chaos. Perspiration beaded his forehead, his face pale and eyes a little wild as they searched hers, snagging on the way she snatched her suitcase to an upright position and pulled it closer to her side. As always, ever since she first laid eyes on him, his unusual male beauty made her chest ache. A head taller than most, he looked out of place in the busy surroundings, his blue eyes penetrating through everything in their wake to reanimate her heart.

She waited for something to happen, but he just continued to stare at her, his body swaying a little. He looked like he was about to faint. Worry, combined with fear prickled her skin when she recalled his accounts of his PTSD condition. She'd made it this far, and now she was torn between going over to him and making her way to the security.

"What are you doing here?" she said a little harshly.

"Dinnae go in that plane.”

"It's too late for that."

Anguish fogged his handsome features. "I need ye to hear me out, Sassenach. Please."

Claire shook her head. "What is there to say, Jamie? That text you wrote, told me everything already."

"Please let me explain ..."

"I already know what you're going to say, Jamie. You're going to say you didn't mean to write that text. It's classic and cliche at the same time and utter bullshit." Claire's shoulders sagged, and she swallowed hard. "No, I'm sorry, I can't ..." 

She started to step into the queue, but stopped, her heart caught in her throat when a passerby in a rush accidentally bumped into him, and he almost vaulted over. She saw how much it took out of him just to remain upright. She made a move to come to his aide, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand, telling her he would say his piece without any help. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took several deep breaths, discomfort, and distress in this busy environment evident on his face. 

"You don't look well, Jamie. You should go home," she said, glancing around, aware of people looking at him.

"Damn it, Sassenach," he wheezed. "I'm gonnae make ye listen even if it kills me."

A stabbing pain went through her heart. "I can't do this, Jamie. I'm going."

"No!" He took another unsteady step forward. When Claire stayed put, relief washed over his face. "What I wrote to my sister about you was wrong ..."

Rage replaced the hurt she was feeling. "You made it sound I was just a notch on the bedpost," she snapped, angrily.

Jamie winced as a woman nearby gasped and glared at him, but they both ignored her. "No, Sassenach. You were never that ..."

"Your words winter fling said it all. What else could it mean?"

"Sometimes, what I think and what I feel doesn't translate into words ..."

"Or you don't think at all," she interrupted, tipping her head back to keep the tears from falling.

His head dropped. "No, I didnae think. What I said was inexcusable, and no explanation or apologies would take any of the hurt I caused ye back."

"It was a horrid thing to say about someone!"

His face flickered with regret and self-loathing. "It was, and I'm an arsehole for it."

"They why? Why Jamie? Is that how you talk about your conquests?"

His face paled even more. "No! You're not that at all. What we had was special, and I've never felt like this about someone before."

"You could have fooled me ..."

He took a careful step forward as if afraid she would bolt. "Sassenach, I said what I said not because that was what I thought about you and that's the truth. Partly, I text those words to get my sister off my case. She was badgering me for getting involved with ye because she was worried about me falling for someone from the city due to my condition. Another part of the reason I wrote that had to do with my fear of getting emotionally attached. I thought by labelling what we had as temporary, it would be easier to let ye go when the time comes. It was wrong ...so wrong. I wish I hadnae said it."

Claire could barely see him through the blur of tears. The awful pain she'd had in her heart all morning waned a little. She forced her feet to move, but the emotion in his voice kept her rooted in place. 

"Christ, everything happened so fast between us. And I was rushing ahead before I could comprehend what was happening. When ye told me ye live in London, I was convinced that nothing could come out of this ...us ...whatever this is we have ....because I wouldnae ken how to live in yer world and it wouldnae be right to ask ye to give up yers. When I asked ye to extend yer stay, my intention was to make as many memories with ye because I needed to face the truth of my limitations. I was determined not to be that someone who held ye back and made ye regret what ye could've done. I said to mysel' whatever time ye could give me, I'd be grateful. Yet, here I am, begging ye not to get on that plane."

She wanted to go to him, take him in her arms and forget what had happened, but she needed more. She needed to know that this thing between them was more than just a handy itinerary with chemistry tossed into the mix. For her, it had always been more, but he's a man, and maybe it's just all about sex for him.

"Sorry, Jamie." Bracing her shoulders, she pulled her suitcase behind her and joined the line for security check-up.

"Wait!"

She and every person within hearing distance in the queue turned around to look at him.

This time, Jamie didn't flinch and looked at her straight in the eyes with unwavering intensity. "I cannae let ye go without giving it my best shot. I've used my condition as an excuse for far too long, yet not once did ye ever look at me as someone damaged. I dinnae want my condition to stop me anymore from going after what I want. I swear to God, ye havenae seen persistence yet, Sassenach. Ye have nae idea what it looks like until ye've seen it on me. I've fought for my life in a war zone before, and I'm doing it again now. If ye get on that bloody plane, be rest assured I will be on the next flight behind yours. I will show up in every God damned place ye go to until ye give me the time of day. And I willnae stop until I get it through yer pretty head how much ye mean to me. And if ye come back to me, I promise ye, I'm gonnae work my arse off to prove to ye every day how special ye are. Even if it means moving to London to be closer to ye. All I'm asking for is a second chance."

Looking at him, she knew he meant every word, and there was an intensity about him, that told her he would go through with his threat of following her to London. A lump stuck in Claire's throat, so huge she could barely speak. Her face crumpled, and she let the unshed tears she'd held all morning flow. Unable to stand a moment longer without feeling his arms around her, she let go of her grip on her suitcase and began to make a move towards him. Jamie fell back a few steps, both hands flying to rest on top of his head, relief and disbelief visible in every line of his body. She covered the distance separating them in three steps and flung herself into strong arms that circled around her without hesitation. Applause, cheers and whistles from passengers who had witnessed the scene erupted around them, making them both laugh through tears. 

"Jesus Christ, Jamie," she stammered with a hiccup. "You really know how to cause a scene and really make it count." 

A hand tunnelled through her hair, gripping her neck so he could angle her head and kiss her. "I'm so sorry, Sassenach. Oh, God, I'm so sorry," he muttered against her lips. "I was an idiot. I thought I wasnae gonnae make it." 

A shudder passed through her. "I almost got on a plane and spent Christmas on my own." 

Jamie fell back into the nearest seat, taking Claire with him. Obviously spent from all the emotions. "Dinnae remind me ...ever again, please. But just so ye know, I have my passport with me. I was ready to come after ye. Today." 

Claire clung to him tighter. "It's Christmas, and we're together. Let's just focus on that." 

"Christ, I thought I knew fear." His breath shook and fanned her skin. "That was the scariest situation I've been in." 

She let out a sigh, inhaling his scent from the crook of his neck. How had she thought for one second that running away would have been a better option? She thought of the woman she spoke to earlier in the cafe and smiled. 

Jamie shook her a little. "Ye're going to think this is mad, but I dinnae want to take another second for granted, so I'm just going to say it, so ye ken once and for all." 

"Say what?" she whispered. Jamie tilted her face up for a slow, deep kiss, then stood, lifting her in his arms. 

"I'm in love with ye, Sassenach. I ken it's too soon, but I want it out there just in case something happens and I dinnae get another chance to say it, or I do something stupid like making ye cry. Life's too short for over-analysing things and keeping something like that to myself." 

She smiled through fresh tears. "I'm in love with you too, Jamie. And next time you say something stupid, I'm just going to get into a fight with you about it, instead of running away."

Jamie's laughter rumbled in his chest before his face turned serious. "Merry Christmas, Sassenach. May it be our first of many more to come."

Claire reached out and clasped his face with her hands and laid a soft kiss on his lips. Her heart broke open, and for the first time, all the pieces clicked together in a perfect puzzle, and everything made perfect sense. Because she'd learned early on you needed to take the bad with the good and embrace it all. Despite Jamie's condition and fear of uncertainty, she'd taken a gamble and trusted her guts, and by giving him a second chance, they'd ended up with the best thing of all. 

Love at Christmas. 

She knew it wasn't going to be smooth sailing forever. There were going to be long talks of how they ought to proceed with their relationship, compromises to be made, and probably many teething problems during their phase of getting to know each other. But as long they both keep their hearts open, they should have a fighting chance.

"Merry Christmas to you too," she whispered, her voice raspy with emotion. 

"Shall we go home?" he murmured, smiling.

"Yes, let's go home."

Hand in hand they left the airport and headed back to Broch Mordha to celebrate Christmas.

 Dear Readers,

Firstly, thank you for your best wishes and feedback from the previous chapter. This latest update was supposed to be published on Christmas day. Unfortunately, because I was so overly ambitious about the storyline, I was unable to deliver. I didn't want to rush it after having gone through the story in my head many times.  Rushing it probably would have made me miss many of the elements I wanted to put in this story.

Anyway, I had a lovely quiet Christmas. With everything that's happening globally, it was more of a time for reflection for us instead of celebration. I am just grateful that my love ones are safe and healthy and hope you're own dearests are as well. As for this story's direction, I don't know how many chapters there are to go, but I can safely say there is another one after this. I will try to publish before New Year, and if I am unable to do so, I wish you all a New Year full of exciting possibilities, good health and lots of love. Keep the good vibes rolling and take care. X

[nutley-rp]

personal

I’ve never been one to spill my metaphorical jelly beans over the internet, preferring instead to drip feed bits here and there that I’ve sanitized and deemed safe to share. I worry about blending online and personal lives while simultaneously wanting to 1) ghost people immediately upon thinking I’ve messed up and 2) sharing way too much. Thankfully, my cautious upbringing has me leaning more towards 1 (without actually ghosting people) but, that said, the idea of oversharing is super weird to me. Like, it just feels like something I’ll regret posting about tomorrow. Why publish something when it’s private crap? Shouldn’t that stay to yourself? Aren’t you going to bother others, IF others even bother taking a look?

This is my final warning to you to stop while you’re ahead lmao. I won’t judge.

Over time this cursed space on tumblr has begun to feel safer, but maybe it’s because I’ve become more confident (or maybe I just don’t give a shit anymore). Instead of it being a performative and curated space for others (and fandoms), it’s more of just...me. Posting increasingly more unhinged nonsense online, sometimes seen by others, sometimes not. So first and foremost, this rant is for myself. Maybe it belongs in a journal but, somehow, this pseudo-private blog of mine feels better to write in. If I regret this I’ll just delete it anyway.

So anyway. I ended a relationship of 4+ years. That sucks.

2022 is going to be wild. Work-wise, the more senior coworker I leaned on is leaving, so I have to pick up the slack and be more responsible. Living-situation-wise, I feel like I’ve never really “adulted” by myself before. I lived with my parents for a hot second after college and then latched onto my ex’s established life. And of course relationship-wise, that’s going to be different. There’s a lot to figure out but I think this is all stuff I SHOULD figure out. It’ll be good for me. A lot of discovery and growth down the road but hell, I’m so lazy and I’m not looking forward to it. But it’s exciting at the same time. There’s a lot to feel and I’m just kind of bouncing between holiday cheer and feeling a little frustrated/empty/afraid. I’m not extremely torn up about the break up. We both knew it was coming and it was like staring down a tunnel for 6 months, hoping for a different conclusion but getting to the end of it anyway. And there were so many good times we shared. I think that’s what makes it so sad. So much worked out, but then, it couldn’t. Not in the long term.

It’s a beautiful thing to “grow into each other” for the sake of love, but I found myself becoming resentful of change, and I shouldn’t have ignored that feeling for so long. I kept thinking - I LIKE WHO I AM. Why should I change? Why should I bend when it doesn’t feel like the other side is bending just as much? What if I just find someone else that can accept me for who I am naturally? Or just live by myself? I know this sounds really negative and I’m tempted to sugarcoat it. I used to think to myself whenever I wrote in my journal - what if I just left out all the bad stuff? Then, I wouldn’t remember that, and I’d only remember the good? It’s being dishonest but like...it’s not like I didn’t do this to myself anyway. I feel myself rubbing against the same urge to sanitize my thoughts for future me but, I don’t know. It is what it is, right now.

Ultimately this opens a lot of doors for me. I’m thankfully financially independent, and I’m...confident, enough, in my professional capabilities to hold down the fort for whatever lies ahead (god, we’ll see). I’m eager to focus on myself for a while. I guess this is why I’ve been unraveling recently - that’s just. Who I am? Who I always was but was holding back? I don’t know. Still debating whether or not I should continue censoring myself like this or if I should just let loose for once, especially since I’m just me now, and not. Us.

Life is wild. Will just have to see.

[paullicino]

On the Internet

Taken from, and thus generously funded by, my Patreon. The above image via ExtraFabulousComics.

Do you have a flashlight nearby? A lamp, or other light source? Keep it to hand, it might become relevant for something, something I’d like to demonstrate later. The demonstration is simple and entirely voluntary, the flashlight is not essential. It works just as well as a thought experiment in your head.

Meanwhile, I’m going to write about the internet on the internet. Because that’s what we all do these days, isn’t it?

---

I still remember the excitement of our first explorations online. It was a kind of hidden, secret space of unknown dimensions when we found it as young adults. A weird sort of Narnia. A modem meant you could open this door to an entirely different place full of entirely different people obeying entirely different rules. You had to find ways of telling one another about what you’d found this week, either the next time you were together in person, via an email or, God forbid, by printing out a webpage. Twenty-five years ago, the internet was a collection of imperfect search engines (crawlers) taking you to out-of-the-way websites that were as likely to have been made by someone just like you as they were to belong to some major company or organisation. Its mess was egalitarian. It was a decentralised place full of curious corners and sudden surprises. It wasn’t somewhere we logged on to with an expectation of finding the familiar. It was a place of discovery.

It wasn’t simply that the tech wasn’t as good as it is nowadays. That much is obvious. It was the fumbling newness of the place. It was a primordial soup, we were all blobs and we blobbed around together, testing out the water.

It was a tremendously international space. It was easy to stumble across websites in other languages, to find places that weren’t for you, that were never created with you in mind, and at the very edges of these places their owners and their users might just blend together. Spill over, even. Everyone was from everywhere and they were all mingling, uncontrolled. It was liberating. It was mind-expanding.

The internet was exciting, it was new, it was unfamiliar. It was a place to learn. It was a place without an agenda.

It was also a place to be different. Niche interests found their audiences and young people could be united by what they enjoyed, not marginalised. There was no need to fit in when the place didn’t even fit together properly. For those of us bullied, bored, or worse in tiny homogenous hometowns, isolated or upset by the toxic social dynamics and popularity contests that school can create, it offered little judgement about what you should want or who you should be. It was a place to be genuine. 

I still remember the end of the 1990s, too. It was a decade of growth and change not just for a young generation, but for the wider world we were learning about. There was a peace deal in Northern Ireland, there was optimism in the media and there was a coming millennium that was supposed to be defined by technology and communication, the internet at its forefront. I was not a young man who could identify with very much of this optimism, but I was at least a young man looking forward to change, who could be accepted as who I was on the internet and who could be excited about what it represented. I’d never tried to be anyone else, even though being different rarely works out when you’re young, but now I knew for sure that I didn’t need to.

As my friends and I grew, so did the internet, and it became a place where we could share more about ourselves, where we could play together and where we found a bunch of ways of keeping in touch whenever we were apart. It became a tool to help me work, that kickstarted my career as a writer, as well as an ever-widening window on the world. It wasn’t yet too corporate, its websites and its tools not yet too monolithic.

I remember some of that early sharing. I remember talking to total strangers, a world away, about some part of my life or theirs. I remember talking to one internet friend of many years, who I never met, about British and American spelling. And about spelling in general. I remember they told me they weren’t sure how to spell a particular word and I said they could look it up in but a moment, since they were online there and then. “I can’t be bothered,” they replied, and that frustrated me so much.

The 90s passed and on September 11th 2001 whatever vision there was for the coming century was erased. The course of world events shifted immediately and dramatically. Never before had mass murder been so visible and so immediate. I remember talking not about how different the world was going to be, but that we had no idea how big a difference this would even make. In a very short space of time, it felt as if the world became not only so much more cruel and so much more cynical, but also so much more divided. I remember the weeks and months after those terror attacks as being my first experience of seeing people sharply divided in their politics, divided enough to be extremely angry, extremely offended, by the many suggestions of what should be done next. It set the scene.

As the decade continued, technology and communication certainly did change us. More of us were using the internet not only to talk, but for more and more of our everyday tasks. We were also sharing ourselves, too, in ways more personal and profound, and there was so much to know. I read a blog post by a Black woman from the American South describing the ways she had to bring up her son to interact with the wider world, how angry he was about it, how unfair it all was. I read updates from those caught in the civil war in Myanmar, talking about what they claimed the news didn’t show. I read about the realities of the rapid growth in Dubai, the working conditions and pollution. I read diary entries by people surviving the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, weeks without power and wondering when help would come. I read about the world in a way I’d never been able to before.

More than ever, the internet was a library of lives.

The first trip overseas I took by myself was all planned, booked and executed with the help of the internet. I flew to Chicago, in the United States, and I stayed in the most average hotel in the most average neighbourhood and it was wonderful. I heard real cicadas for the first time and walked through concrete valleys between towering skyscrapers that my tiny mind couldn’t process. In the evenings, I watched a plethora of American news, which was only ever about America, and that frustrated me so much.

The first interview I ever conducted with someone who wasn’t making a video game was with the writer Mil Millington. The interviews I really wanted to do were about people, their experiences, what they liked and why they do the things they do. Mil Millington was the perfect subject because we had both written about games, we both understood the reach of the internet and we were both interested in what the future of this medium would be. He had recently scored a book deal and written his first novel, Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, based on his semi-autobiographical, tongue-in-cheek blog of the same name, listing comic domestic disagreements. I asked him what it was like to share all of his personal life online and he told me that, actually, he didn’t:

“I'm, honestly, almost obsessively private. It's just the way I write that, for some reason, if I say, 'Margret won't let me watch a film in peace,' causes people to think, 'My God! Mil's laying his whole life bare!'”

And then I realised that he had, of course, chosen to share all the things that he had. And carefully. It didn’t mean that those things were less honest, less real or less interesting, but he had been doing what all of us writers do: picking his words and his moments. We should all get to share on our own terms.

I liked his honesty. He wasn’t trying to prop up any persona.

---

A little after this time, I was asked on a date by a conservative American woman who I met in my first year at university in London. We saw each other a few times and stayed in touch when she returned to California. A couple of years later, the American Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin spoke about “death panels” run by Britain’s National Health Service. Online, I expressed my annoyance and anger both at Palin just making things up, as well as at the volume of people who seemed to simply accept her words. My former date said that Palin was allowed to “express her opinion” and I didn’t know how to begin to explain, to an adult in her mid 20s, the difference between fact and opinion, or that she could check such things in a moment, since she was online. That frustrated me so much.

This discussion played out over a relatively new website called Facebook, which had become an invaluable way to connect with my fellow students. I had feared being alone at university, lost in a big city, but the opposite had happened. As soon as we all finished our first year of studies and were hurried out of our student residences, we scattered across the capital and the closeness I had taken for granted was suddenly lost. But Facebook became a directory of friendship, another library of lives. In its early days, I made jokes about people oversharing, or using the site to attract attention, but this wasn’t any different to how some of us might behave anywhere else. It wasn’t such a big deal. That’s just humans.

And anyway, I like to share. My whole life, I’ve enjoyed sharing things I think are important because I feel like it helps me make genuine connections, express myself and feel useful. I saw the internet becoming another way of doing this, another way to be genuine. The younger me had played in bands and held dreams of reaching other people through music, in awe of those moments when an audience sings an artist’s lyrics back to them. I still wanted that, that connection, or some version of it.

On the ever-growing internet, we could all share ourselves more. It could become a new medium for acceptance and understanding. What a glorious future it promised.

---

In time, I adopted all of the social media platforms that I use because I enjoy human connection and I think one of the fundamental traits of people is that they can be so interesting. They do stuff, they make things, they go places, they inspire and they pull humour out of the most difficult of situations like a conjurer tugging an elephant from a beanie. I’d like to be able to do those things. Some days I can barely make a pancake.

Social media allowed me to make and share even more, and now I was sharing things with two people at dinner, ten people at a party or a hundred people online. The number mattered less than the creation’s ability to connect, because it all helped me figure people out and it helped me figure myself out. It helped me figure everything out so that, perhaps one day, I might also learn the trick that lets you tug an elephant out of a beanie. I would be able to say to people “Ah yes, you start with the trunk,” or “Surprisingly, you pull from the tail.” Then they could pass that on. Social media seemed particularly good for this, a way for us to all enrich one another.

In 2008, a series of devastating terrorist attacks erupted across Mumbai. Many of the events were documented in real-time by both journalists and locals using Twitter, which made the site seem to me to be an invaluable new perspective on current events. By the start of the next decade, the Arab Spring saw a broad uprising across North Africa, with thousands of people united in protest by the unifying power of social media. It felt like these tools could change our world forever.

Some other things happened as that decade wound down.

A woman on Twitter made a poor joke about AIDS and Africa before boarding a flight, only to find that, by the time she had landed, her words had been shared around the world many millions of times. A woman in England was caught on camera putting a cat in a bin, the footage of which went viral and received such an overwhelmingly furious reaction that one national newspaper asked, only half-joking, if she was the most evil woman in Britain. These events were shared, discussed and dissected with a comparable passion and level of investment as the terrorist attacks and the Arab Spring. On the internet, a cat in a bin was becoming as important as terrorists in a hotel.

I flexed some cynical opinions. We all had opinions by then (though still not the same as facts), because it was increasingly difficult not to get swept up in things like these as and when they happened. They were everywhere, echoed and repeated, with a kind of mentality of momentum. Countless people changed their profile pictures to something green in support of protesters in Iran, or added a flag to support victims of terror in France. They signed internet petitions demanding Something Be Done, though it wasn’t always clear where these petitions would be delivered or how they would compel someone to act. None of these protesters or victims were in any way saved, protected or enabled by a person on the other side of the planet clicking their mouse like this, but if a million other people did it, those metrics created a validity of their own.

I think I remember the late 2000s as the time that I really began to feel different about these things. But by then, I was too bought in. It had already gone from a habit to a dependency.

Year by year, the internet had become less egalitarian. Monolithic sites and spaces were increasingly the center of the experience, whether hubs like MSN and Yahoo, social media sites like Facebook or Twitter, or popular news outlets. We found ourselves in the same places, over and over, and we relied on these for our new discoveries. While social media in particular pitched itself as something that put us all on the same level, behind the scenes levers were already being pulled to shape and to manipulate what was shown and shared.

(That’s okay, people told me. Turn on this feature, or adjust these options, and you get to pull your own levers. That’ll undo everything. You still get to share on your own terms.)

These sites had swelled to envelop us, going from making themselves exciting to making themselves essential. We no longer went online, we were online, always, and we left more and more of ourselves there even when we were away from our screens. Social media allowed you to collect everything together, becoming a place where you could simultaneously read updates from your friends, your parents, Leonardo Di Caprio, the Prime Minister, your favourite newspaper and your favourite sports team. All in a moment and all competing for your attention. Sites like Google and YouTube started to track and understand the preferences of their users, delivering to them more of what they wanted, working hard to grab and to keep their attention. You liked that dog, that topic, that politician? Here’s another.

Here’s another, again.

I was pulling levers all the time, frantically now, like someone operating locks and gates to try and dam an ever more overwhelming flow. My social media sites had changed from something that I used to something I had to manage. Not only were we all carefully curating who we broadcast to and when, lest we offend an employer or shock a relative, we also found ourselves trying to coordinate and customise them, because if we didn’t they would do this for us. They began to choose what to show us, based on what they believed we cared about, they began to offer us things, based on who they believed we were. They even began to mess with time, giving us information and updates out of chronological order. All of these were changes we often had to undo or at least be mindful of, if we even knew about them. If we wanted to. And if we knew how.

If we didn’t, our reality might shift.

---

I still remember the excitement of our first explorations online. My first favourite website was Snopes, which was then a collection of myths and urban legends, most of them debunked. In the late 90s, bullshit chainletter emails would bounce around the internet with stories about how some Russian scientists had drilled their way to hell, or how a new computer virus had come out, or how Coca Cola dissolved human teeth. Sometimes, the strangest of stories really were true, or at least partially so, but most of them were trash. Thanks to Snopes, you could check such things in a moment. I loved that about the internet.

On September 11th 2001, almost twenty years ago now, it was difficult to disagree about what we saw happening right in front of our eyes. Nevertheless, there were a few people afterward who insisted that a plane had not hit the Pentagon, that the towers had been deliberately demolished, that some more mysterious sequence of events had transpired. They lurked in the darkest corners of the internet, much as they had always existed on any other margins in any other mediums. The rest of us could get on with our lives.

I grew up playing games and then, later, I became someone who analysed, critiqued and even designed them. One of the most powerful and important things I learned through games is that so much in life is based around systems and the longer a system is around for, the better we become at manipulating it. When a game has been around for a long time, we find many different ways to play it and sometimes we have to adjust the rules of the game to account for this. The rules for chess that we have today have seen many adjustments and revisions. The same is true for football. It is also true for our laws and for our systems of government. We have to modify these things in part because times change, but also in part because they are being abused and exploited, subverted in ways their designers never imagined.

Or simply used as optimally as possible.

It’s 2021 and the internet monoliths that we have begun to take for granted, that have surged like the rising oceans to engulf our lives and to carry us along their currents, are constantly being used in ways their designers never imagined. Two years ago, we thought the biggest problem we had with social media and internet monoliths was their subversion to manipulate elections, with great armies of bots and fake profiles being created and directed faster than the people who owned social media sites being able to prevent this. This presence could bring amplification and validity to anyone or to anything. “Learn the algorithm,” was the key to success online. Use a site or social media platform in a particular way and it will elevate you further. Elevate your work. Or your truth. Or just you.

Now, more than a year and a half into a pandemic that defines our generation, the areas of the internet with which we’ve become most familiar and most comfortable, those which we began to pour our lives and identity into, are not only places where elections were subverted, they’re places where the difference between life and death are considered a matter of opinion, where science and fact can be openly ridiculed, where conspiracies about September 11th are tiny in comparison. For some time now they’ve already been well-worn battlefields, public arenas within which opinion and force of will often carry more weight than evidence and reason, but now the consequences of doubling down on a belief are undeniably the difference between living and dying.

More important, for some people, is the difference between right and wrong. Not so much being right, but being seen being right, can give you validity, clout, value. I think we’ve reached the point where dying while being seen as right can matter more than living and admitting a mistake.

The flow of the internet, all those locks and gates opened by algorithms or AI or other people’s decisions that may simply have been motivated by a desire to give us what we like, have made it more difficult than ever to find things that go against the current, or to grasp something we can be sure is objective or straightforward.

One part of me believes that we can no longer look things up in a moment any more, because we have to second-guess every other thing we find. As a journalist and researcher, I never feel secure with what I find on the internet now and I dig, I verify and I compare, still coming away unsure, often worried I will publish something glaringly incorrect. A different part of me, a more dramatic part, sometimes wonders which things are even real.

I suppose anything is real if you can get away with it. If nobody ever notices.

---

There’s another aspect to all this, the aspect that makes me the most uncomfortable. The aspect I least enjoy discussing, but which I have to if I can fully explain myself.

Living alongside the internet, I’ve watched as some of us pull all those levers simply to control the flow as best we can, to keep ourselves afloat, but others have viewed this experience differently. They’ve seen it as a challenge, as another system they can manipulate. It’s an opportunity for them to choose how they present themselves. The more levers they pull, the greater their ability to do so. The more time they invest, the greater the result.

If you take your flashlight, lamp or light source and point it toward an object, you can easily affect the size and the shape of the shadows it will cast. Under your control, those shadows can lengthen or deepen, they can sweep and distort. A light up close can cast a gigantic shadow across a far wall, perhaps a sharp one or perhaps one fuzzy and undefined. Try it. See what you can make. The more you do it, the more tricks you can learn.

All of us try to present our best selves and all of us have our different selves, too. Forty years before I ever went online, the sociologist Erving Goffman published The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, a book about how we behave differently in different contexts. It’s natural for us to speak to our family in a different way to how we speak to our best friend, or to our colleagues, or to a crowd we might be addressing in a speech. It’s not necessarily disingenuous, it’s merely a part of the human experience. But impression management, as Goffman called it, is also a matter of degrees. Some people are more invested than others. If given the tools to perform more effective impression management, more levers they can pull, they will engage even further.

I have flexed a few cynical opinions in my life (at least as many as three, the stats suggest) but, at the same time, I think I have to admit that I have also been very naïve about people. I tend to take many of them on face value and assume they are genuine. Many of us are, perhaps even most of us. But I’ve come to know both that this isn’t always the case and that, given the opportunity, some people will use every tool at their disposal to shape a false version of themselves. We’ve found ourselves in an era where this is more possible than ever. It’s no longer simply within the purview of politicians and PR firms, it’s within reach of every one of us and all we need to do is put in the time and energy. The reward can be ever greater popularity, ever more validation

And I’m so tired of seeing this.

Over the past half decade or so, I have seen the internet and its many systems gamed more than ever. Gamed for political gain, gamed for personal gain and gamed to create images, personalities and that god-awful golem of hollow and lifeless artifice that is brand. Now a person can be a product, a new kind of commodity in this ever more opaque ecosystem.

The nausea and unhappiness I feel from all this is more than the simple declaration that I’m not a brand, I’m a person. It’s the discovery that other people, sometimes people I’ve known, really are a brand now. Their time, their energy, their life is now invested in shaping and maintaining that image, that brand, perhaps even at the expense of other pursuits. And with the right manipulations, the right tugging of the correct levers, they can perpetuate that, build that and further gain the affirmations and validations they need to prove to themselves that what they have created is as solid and as true and as real as anything else. And how would we know any different?

The ocean is not so far from my home. It’s not unusual to walk the beach or the seawall and see people engaged in impromptu photoshoots, dressed in their very best, expertly presented and shot with long lenses. A friend told me that most of these shoots are for the purpose of enriching dating profiles, that there’s an increasing feeling of expectation, a sense that everyone must present their very best selves, simply because everyone else now does so. To be on a dating site is to feel engaged in an ever-escalating competition for time and attention, to need to package oneself as the best possible product.

I don’t at all object to the idea of dating sites, but I could never get comfortable with them and I used to feel like I was browsing a human meat market, that it was all too easy for me to make judgements about people I didn’t know and then cast them aside. I felt, again, like people had become products and this was a system and a process I did not want to be part of. You can game it, people tried to tell me. There are ways to make it work better for you, it just takes a little time. I didn’t want to know.

The more time you spend trying to engage with things that aren’t genuine, the less you have for what is real.

When I use the internet these days it’s with an increasing sense of discomfort and disquiet. I find myself already on the lookout for the artificial. I second-guess people as much as I do information. I’m all too aware of the constructed persona and the deliberate framing, of that angling of a light to cast a particular shadow. In a few cases, this isn’t an abstract concern and social media in particular can be a place where I watch people I know are starkly different to the image they project be celebrated for the false façade they maintain, a façade that can be further reinforced by popularity and prominence. I see harmful and unhealthy people championed even in spite of their actions, because they have managed to engineer support and validation, or using the popularity and affirmation they have gained to push opinion over fact. The disingenuous and the distorted tie together like a greasy braid, each one reinforcing the other, and it’s no wonder falsehoods can spread so far, whether false representations or false information. I would say that sometimes I almost feel like I’m back at school, amongst the same gossip and garbage, but this is far worse than any of the toxic social dynamics and popularity contests that school ever created, and now it comes with measurable metrics in the form of likes, follows, retweets or subscriptions.

I’m sure, at this point, this is a common experience and common concern for most of us, and we are each finding our own ways to handle it.

Or not. For me, the experience is deeply unpleasant.

While drafting this I idly wondered if we could somehow develop a new version of Snopes for human beings. A demystifier of people, something that reveals each person’s private Picture of Dorian Gray, which grows ever more warped as they reinforce their persona ever more. But I’m sure even that would be gamed and subverted before too long.

I'm so, so tired of trying to work out who is real.

---

The internet monoliths I move between in my daily life all have one thing in common. Google, Twitch, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr, Facebook, Patreon and so many others are all based in the same place: the United States. They are towering. They overwhelm the rest of the internet. The levers that many of these pull, controlling currents and flow, are being operated in the United States. The politics, existential crises and cultural interests of that country are disproportionately represented and, while I care very much about the United States, I also want to hear about the rest of the world. I want to hear about where I live, and yet even that feels like it comes second. Yes, I am pulling all the levers that are supposed to make this happen. No, it isn’t entirely successful. I am using a paddle against a tsunami.

Once the bias is there, the snowball effect perpetuates. So often, whether I choose to or not, I am in that motel room watching a plethora of American news again, or its modern equivalent. It frustrates me so much. Most of us Westerners essentially live in America some of the time now, if we spend any period online. That’s where our presence and our attention are pointed.

Before publishing this essay, I changed every mention of “torch” to “flashlight” because I felt I had to cater to an internet that sees the first word only as a burning chunk of wood, not as a British battery-powered light source.

The internet doesn’t feel like the world any more. It hasn’t for a long time.

---

I can’t abandon the internet of today. I need it for work. I need it to promote the things I create. I need it to keep in touch with people. I’m not different or special, only someone too bought in as well, my use also going from a habit to a dependency. But it has almost entirely stopped being a place of delight and discovery. It has lost any sense of being egalitarian. So much less is new, so much less is unfamiliar. So much more has an agenda.

Algorithms, metrics and social media have quantified and gamified everything, encouraging competitiveness and narcissism. Public spaces have become arenas and arenas encourage performance. In an attention economy, the outrageous and the overblown mean a cat in a bin can have the same profile and presence as terrorists in a hotel. In spaces that now mix our friends, our parents, Leonardo Di Caprio, the Prime Minister, our favourite newspapers and our favourite sports teams, people we know and love are elevated or relegated according to how interesting an algorithm has decided they are, pushing them to the fore or pulling them from your view. “People on Twitter are the first to know,” says the social network that prides itself on immediacy more than integrity or fact-checking. Misinformation abounds. As the line between person and brand has smudged between all recognition, corporations insert themselves into and between everything else we try to examine. Surrounded by banner ads, the conflicts of polarised culture generate enormous revenue for monolithic American tech companies. As we fight, push our narratives, construct our personas or compete in the race to prove we are the most woke, we all make @Jack richer, or provide Zuck with more of our personal data.

I also find myself reminded of what Octavia Butler called “simple peck-order bullying,” the hierarchical behaviour where people want to, and now can, elevate themselves above others, according to identities they've built for themselves, to push their ideas, push their image, push their sense of superiority or push their opinions so hard that they can reshape them into facts. Anything is possible with enough pulling of enough levers. And now more people have more of those levers. And some of them love to pull and then push, pull and then push.

I don’t like what the internet has turned into, nor what it has turned people into.

So what now?

---

This was an essay inspired by an essay, inspired by an essay, which is always how it goes. Creativity is theft and anyone who says otherwise is only trying to distract you as they secretly shake you down. The eternal question that writers (or anyone creative) is supposed to dread is “Where do you get your ideas?” Because we aren’t supposed to know. But we do know. We get them from everyone else. We thieve them.

Ideas are pickpocketed from the people we pass in twisting evening alleyways, during the briefest moments of darkness and distraction. They’re caught with nets as they flutter with all the freedom of sweet springtime naivete. They’re spied upon from tremendous distances through the jealous lenses of sparkling telescopes. Nothing is truly ours and anyone wringing their words into a desperate defence of some unique capacity for originality ex nihilo is either deceptive or deluded.

(Avoid them. You’re likely their next target.)

This essay was heavily inspired by Lucy Bellwood reflecting on Nicole Brinkley. Both have written nuanced examinations of social media (focusing on Twitter) that I think you should make the time to read, but I’ll try and sum up the main thing I have taken from their writing in one line:

Social media is extremely bad, in a multitude of ways and for many complex reasons, and it is okay to leave it.

This is in so small part my interpretation, coloured by a particular belief I hold, that being that social media is extremely bad, in a multitude of ways and for many complex reasons, and it is okay to leave it. You can probably see why I approve.

There’s more to it than that. Brinkley talks about Twitter essentially breaking the way the Young Adult literature scene works, which to me is one facet of a dangerously seductive diamond that repeats many different stories of damage done by how we’ve used and gamed the internet. Her wonderful conclusion is that “These days it’s okay to not be sure what Twitter is for. We can stop going there until we figure it out.” And I so desperately wish I could stop going on the internet until I could figure out what it is for now, too. I wish it wasn’t essential. But it is, broken as it may be, breaking things as it may be.

While I don’t think leaving it is an option for me, I am using so much of it less. I have to. Social media, a place where I am shown arguments and controversy over the lives of people I care about, has become somewhere for me to hurriedly hurl out a quick update or two before I flee, escaping before I come across something, or even someone, that will make me sad. Any search box is a cause for scepticism, prompting me to analyse the results it gives and try a dozen different ways to find the same thing, just in case. Even Snopes is now a running commentary on the (American) news cycle. The best I can do whenever I think something fundamental to our society is unhealthy is to participate in that thing as little as possible. I know this limits my reach, limits my relevance and limits my success, but I also know that this makes me less unhappy and allows me to continue to feel genuine. Like I am still myself. Like I am still real. It may be apparent that my mental health has taken a few hits over the last couple of years. It doesn’t need to take any more.

I am not only unsure what Twitter is for, I am unsure what the whole internet is for.

---

There is no conclusion to this essay. It is supposed to be six thousand words of open-ended reflection. The past year or so has sometimes been a huge struggle for me and it really is true that some days I can barely make a pancake. Work has been difficult, writing has been difficult and maintaining regular Patreon updates has been difficult, with this piece being a huge challenge to finish. I think I’ve tried to make the best of things, as well as present an honest but still positive face to the world. I have piles of tasks to get through and I tackle what I can, with what feels like so much competing for my attention. At the same time, I can’t opt out of the systems I live and work inside of, much as I can’t stop paying rent or putting food in my mouth, because individuals can't kick a habit society has become dependent upon. I think the best thing I can do right now is be truthful about all that, try to remain as genuine as I can and continue to step away from what makes me uncomfortable, giving myself some distance from the things that make me unhappy.

That doesn’t mean I’m disappearing (I’m still checking in on social media, streaming on Twitch and so on), nor does it mean this change or this philosophy is forever, nor does it mean that things can’t improve. But it does mean I’m changing a few things about myself, my habits and my preferences. And it does mean I have a working, temporary, if unsatisfactory answer to the question “So what now?”

It is: “We’ll see.”

---

A big thanks to my Patreon community for the links I’m adding here, post-publication.

The first is How sex censorship killed the internet we love, on Endgadget, about controlling the internet in all sorts of ways and about what might be considered explicit (apparently a condom might be explicit).

Then there’s The internet Is Rotting, from the Atlantic, about bits of the internet that are disappearing and the loss of information that comes with it, as well as information that is overwritten and altered. We are keeping less than you might think.

Finally, The web began dying in 2014, here’s how, by André Staltz, talks about the growing prominence of big corporations (all American), what their priorities are, and what online things (services) they may bring to you.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

prompts

April 26th: Talk about special interests. Do you have special interests? If not do you wish you did? What do your special interests mean to you? What are your current special interests? What are your past special interests? idk like i know i sure have & have had Interests, some more of interest than others, and it's also like, oh yeah i guess the ways i held that interest / explored it pretty intently / extensively / at length didn't always seem to be the way other people always felt about things even if we shared the interest, but yknow, at the same time it doesn't necessarily seem as extensive or major as some of the aspects of defining a Special Interest(tm) can be, i haven't been too pressed about it, but of course it's like, i have my Things lol, i.e. yeah this thing is kind of My Thing....and then i can look back on Things like. well idk when i was really little and you're just gonna like Cool Stuff, i did have the thing of like, i like dinosaurs and did sorta casually collect dinosaur stuff, easy enough b/c they make that stuff for kids, memorized a bunch of dinosaur Names so that just being asked to recite a bunch was something i was known to be able to do, a big fan of a couple semi educational computer games we had, shoutout to 3d dinosaur adventure and this magic school bus dinosaur (and ocean) game, had pajamas ft dinosaurs, rip to when i had a sick metal lunchbox with dinosaurs on it and it just broke on like week 1 of first grade or whatever and i just had to go back to default lunchboxes. well and then but anyways but from then on it was like, well, i guess it's media time......read a shit ton all the time, was into some tv series / movies, played some pc / video games, there was stuff i'd be glad to revisit over and over, and yknow, as this went on it'd be like, well now when there's A Relatable Enough Character in something i also like just in general, that's a powerful combo, though sometimes it's like, yeah i like this thing enough even in the absence of any particular [and i extra go hard about this character] element, that's not Not at play as it's like "well and i guess i will think about this quant every day for years now lmfao," and i can sure always talk about stuff At Length too, which sure is not something other people are generally interested in, but if/when they are, it's like okay great, this is a great connection point then, b/c otherwise it's like, i generally don't know what to say about myself, didn't get much practice, did pick up a sense of like, well stuff is Wrong about myself and my life so i shouldn't share it and also i'm not picking up friends so it was generally accurate that no one was exactly interested lmao. small talk is really more of a barrier / test you can just potentially fail, yet anything more personal is Oversharing, but hey i would earnestly love to talk at length about This Thing, so great when other people are into that at all lol and then if we vibe it's like, obviously that's the sort of functional "small talk" route here lol to being able to be more familiar w/each other and talk more generally, even if yknow, wuh oh, i'm kind of cagey outside those Interests i will talk about in ways that's probably "too much" by most ppl's standards, worst of both worlds when it comes to forming relationships but oh well, it is what it is and i sure don't consider it a bad thing i have plenty to say about things i Want to talk about, and it sure doesn't impede on anyone else if i'm Not Talking about other shit.

also then it's like, "idk what it is when you just determinedly Pursue something that's maybe still not the hugest deal, but i don't really feel very pressed re: figuring it out" like, does it count like how i mentioned today i'd read bird guides for fun as a kid, and watch this bird documentary and be like "hey. check out this scene in this bird documentary with this bird mimicry" to friends i now realize were probably mostly bemused by this, and really liked birds just generally (still true), and thus have like, maybe more Bird Knowledge than the average random person but also am hardly some self taught ornithological expert. or how i'm big into linguistics and etymology and, in theory, language learning, always really latching on to the little i was taught in school, also perusing some Language Guides available, and like, not really self teaching a bit re: learning some of a couple languages, just learning via teaching resources outside of [directly through any academic institution], never took any language classes, sure have no fluency in fuckall.........how about that i just decided as a kid like "hm i want to be able to draw" b/c i felt that way (and yknow, still do in a way lol) about pretty much anything, but i just also liked doodling and took some art classes and it was always this casual thing and now i use this to make fanart for the Media Interests lol, and although this is all digital drawing and drawing was always my primary thing it's like, well okay also yeah there was like, some painting / pastels / sculpting other Visual Arts stuff, and then, like, i sure enjoyed dance classes and the Performing Arts aspect of that, theatre gay adjacent b/w that and choir lol, have regular dreams about being part of impromptu dance performances, including just last night, rip to the special thwarting of "oh no i'm going around trying to get food before the show, getting stuck in traffic or lost in stores, and i've missed my whole first appearance" lol. anxiety dreams never end........and idk, i've had a love for math stuff, physics stuff, space stuff, even felt that [!] for the little i was able to get into circuitry and coding, but yknow. learning that shit is kind of involved and i only had so much experience re: taking classes, also, unfortunately, i always hated school lmao, so it's just kind of there where i'm like oh i get Into this shit in the ways that other people who are definitely Into it feel about it lmao. but yeah, idk, i do have like. well here's this sort of stuff i think about Every Day, this sort of mental home base sometimes, that i don't get tired of and reexplore / reexperience pretty intensively, but at the same time like, sometimes i can just sort of have something be that Interest for a lot more of a temporary duration, and things that were that main shit is like, well Probably when i like it that much once i like it down the line even if i haven't been that focused on it in the meantime, more just latent, but then it's like, well, but probably could and would still talk So Much about it still even if it's not like, oh yeah i'm Into This(tm) right Now lol..........idk! but i sure get really into shit and like, if anyone else is interested in me talking at length / drawing about it, that's sure probably the most successful grounds for Connection lmao cuz yknow. even people who maybe share that interest aren't guaranteed to see that and go "yeah this is someone i'm interested in actually talking to though" like yeah here's your preview of my personality i guess lol

April 27th: What is your favourite form of media? For example, do you enjoy books? What format do you prefer for books (physical, e-book, audiobook)? Did you love reading as a kid but find it challenging as you got older? How about movies, tv, or video games? Do you have a favourite series? yeah i read all the time as a kid, on the bus, if i finished shit early at school, on the bus again, also at home plenty, not so much when i was in college when it's like oh i can just do kinda whatever now (also as people point out it's like. well gotta do all this reading for classes now so) and then it was like, i'll get into other Media i can freely experience at any time, and also hang out with people Some, which i can also just do whenever now, as opposed to at any point before this......still like reading but it can sure kind of be a Whole Thing, like i either can't focus and it's like well time to read like, a paragraph or page a day, or else i'm focusing Too Much really like, if i'm at all trying to see how something ends i might burn through it in a few days (still a fairly slow reader) which is like, do i want to spend multiple days on this One Thing, even if it takes me like, multiple times the runtime to watch a movie or something, that's still probably getting done in 1 day. plus that yeah, mostly reading new shit via laptop, which is kind of a pain as opposed to physical books or like, e readers in theory, i've never actually used one. the only time i used an audiobook was a few times as a kid to read along with longer books to sort of help with that momentum, such a hot minute ago that this was via Tape Cassette.....i do listen to podcasts though, great for like, doing Something Else at the same time, which i don't know that i could split up that focus and guaranteed successfully absorb a book, Maybe So but select podcasts are my Extensive Audio of choice. never really watched that much tv, there were some stuff me and my siblings might watch as it aired, but not really Narrative Series lol, never seen shit, haven't even really watched That many movies either, still don't Really even though it's like yeah w/e in Theory i enjoy these mediums it's like oh my godddd it's a whole thing to focus on one and then plus what if i don't like it but i've had to put in all that time to know i didn't like it lmao.......i can enjoy keeping up with a tv series like, oh boy once a week a half hour to hour installment, that's a great format truly, but i'm rarely getting that experience lmao like. with billions you could stand 2 weeks between episodes b/c whew but it's v Rare like oh thank god, a series with that weekly release........but otherwise it's like ugh do i wanna have alllll this material to watch, do i wanna go through the whole process of figuring out what movie i feel like giving a try........and that i like Revisiting shit i already like pretty endlessly so it's like, i might just do that. so it's like, audio wise i'll put on podcasts, if i feel like watching something i Might be bothered to try out a movie or smthing b/c yknow, ultimately more doable to consume something that's just a few hours, all that when i'm Thinking About a tv series every day for years lmfao, shoutout to billions which sure gets to be my fave b/c tf else am i keeping up with, literally nothing else, even if i haven't gotten around to actually watching all of it yet / haven't simply sat straight through even the episodes i have watched, i Could do it but it's like god formidable when it's sure more than a movie's worth of content and plenty of "i don't care about this and/or hate this" to make me put my head through the wall lmfao thank you billions........also sometimes i remember like "oh yeah, i guess in theory i enjoy video games as well" but i didn't have That much experience w/them and sure don't now, so that's like well irrelevant ig. media

[lavenderek]

fwiw i’m an A*3 volunteer - i do tag wrangling, actually - and i really do need to emphasise the fact that we are VOLUNTEERS, and there’s really nothing we can do when it comes to bigger issues re: the core of how the site runs and the values people feel it holds.

what i am really tired of is people assuming things about me because i’m a volunteer. people can be so ridiculously vitriolic - like that anon you got who was immediately at you like ‘SO YOU’RE FINE WITH CHILD ABUSE?’ is a perfect example of what i mean. no, i’m not, but i honestly do appreciate a rare space online that is *relatively* unmoderated - which is NOT to say it isn’t completely unmoderated. like you said, there are so many cultural aspects to even simple tags, and as a tag wrangler, you’re ‘trained’ on that. that’s just tag wrangling - i’m sure higher up volunteer positions also take the time and care to educate volunteers correctly on how to manage their roles.

again, though, there is fundamentally very little us volunteers can do for parts people might disagree with. we come from all walks of life and there are so many roles and we all only have so much time. fact is, the website is the way it and it’s unlikely to change beyond perhaps adding more ‘social media’ type functions, like blocking people. if you feel that there is content that is inappropriate or commenters that are inappropriate or whatever, you can report it directly to the people running the website (which i’ve personally done before for an extreme underage fic about a real life - albeit of-age - person), and i obviously didn’t check back to see if it had been removed, but i assume it was dealt with because i genuinely do have faith in the moderators. anyway, just some insight as someone who works with the site.

hey! thanks for the info actually this is really interesting. sorry about the delayed response, i saved it as a draft to come back to it later and then i got busy at work and forgot

while you're here, you mind if i ask you some questions? feel free not to answer, you're not obligated

i separated it into sections because i’m what? longwinded and easily confused

1. can this happen (has questions for you in it)

it's my understanding that the big uproar vis a vis CP fic on a*3 is more that a*3 is inadvertently creating a space where p*dophiles feel safe and can establish a following, in turn allowing them to normalize what they're doing and gain access to potential victims.

tldr, it's less "this is inappropriate" and more "the person who made this is dangerous." like, if the person who wrote that nasty fic you reported had a whole profile full of similar content and was gaining a following from it, that would be concerning.

is the overall effect a user has something that you all take into account when you're going through content on the site, or are you instructed to take the specific piece of content at face value?

and, do you think that's something it's possible to address by moderators? regardless of whether or not it’ll actually happen, do you think that is possible on this system?

and, even more optional than the other questions, if that was possible, what do you think that would look like? 

2. what is the process like on your end (has questions for you in it)

just for my own curiosity, how much leeway do you as a volunteer have over whether a fic should be reported? 

is it up to your own judgment or is there like a rubric or something? 

and what happens if the moderators decide that yeah, this fic can't be up anymore, do they remove the fic or kill the user's profile or what?

what happens if you report something, and the moderators decide it’s fine? does that reflect on you in their eyes? 

how often do you report fic? 

3. clarification of motive (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

like i hear you that you, personally, Anon J. Wranglerton, don't have control over the site itself. the topic of CP and abuse is touchy and wigs people out because it sort of self perpetuates.

it's like that anecdote that went viral a few years ago where a bartender explained that allowing one polite n*zi into the bar leads very quickly into lots of n*zis being in the bar. people want the n*zis removed from the bar. 

i'm sorry people accuse you of being an abuse apologist because of that, i think the idea that people wouldn't really see abuse as a concern is like, actually horrifying to them lmao and i can't necessarily blame them for that in and of itself

4. if i see where they’re coming from then what’s my problem (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i guess i don't share that reaction because disgusting content online isn't anything new for me. i accidentally came across it all the time when i was a kid going online. i nearly fell victim to an actual predator when i was 12 or 13. thankfully, once he asked me for more personal information i was able to get scared and see some red flags. (or if he wasn’t a predator then i should probably go and find my chat room boyfriend Oukami who explained “yiffing” to me and told me to send him pictures of myself so he could make me a wolf fursona)

from my perspective, the a*3 debate looks like this: predators are a concept that is deeply embedded in every corner of the internet, and very suddenly, people are very up in arms about a very specific website having predators on it. it’s like if all of a sudden people were like, “there are customers at Target who yell at the employees. if you still shop at Target, unfollow me.” 

like, yeah, you’re right, and that’s bad, but why Target specifically, and why now, you know? 

i think predators should be made to feel extremely unsafe in fandom spaces lmao, but i also think that’s something that can only be tackled socially. playing whack-a-mole with predators is a tale as old as time.

5. online predators (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

this is just me talking out of my ass, but my theory is that a huge component in kids today getting caught up by predators online is that the concept of anonymity and fear of strangers online has some holes in it on here.

first of all, people just a couple years younger than i am grew up on social media. that was the entire online landscape ever since myspace.

influencers use their real names and faces, and they have millions of followers and are treated like celebrities. a lot of these social networks make it extremely difficult to hide your identity at all. you sign in to youtube with your google account, which is linked to your phone and all your other accounts. instagram, twitter, facebook, and tumblr can all be connected, and a few of those apps encourage it and will interrupt you posting to be like “do you want to also put this on twitter, Firstname Lastname?” no, janet, i’m good. thank you though

this lends a certain amount of freedom to predators, because there is nothing stopping them from assessing somebody’s vulnerability and reaching out to them. 

6. online predators in fandom spaces specifically (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think the fandom space cultivated on tumblr has actively contributed to that. 

look at all these blogs, they’ve got “about me” descriptions with their name, their age, a blurb about their interests, their gender identity, their romantic/sexual preferences, sometimes their fuckin myers-briggs designation. this is all expected behavior on tumblr. 

it starts as a sort of “this is my blog, here’s what i’m about,” and is compounded by like, “NTs can reblog this post but don’t say anything stupid,” or “minors DNI, how old are you,” like, you have to kind of verify that you’re “allowed,” in a sense, to participate in some conversations or interact with some posts. 

i think there’s merit in both of those things, blogs are for self expression and for interacting with likeminded users; and i don’t think it’s “gatekeeping” to stop straighties from clowning on your post about queer issues. 

but this has inadvertently created a sort of entitlement to private information. it also creates this false idea that because you and i have x and y in common, we can interact comfortably. 

it’s crucial to remember that predators aren’t all scary white men who want to visit you at home. some of them are cool 20-somethings who just happen to be normalizing sexual content with children in it. and they genuinely don’t see what they’re doing as wrong. if they’re already your friend, and you see them saying shit about how they’re not hurting anybody, it’s just pretend, it’s just a kink, then you’re probably going to sympathize with them. 

this isn’t to say, “stupid kids, they’re bringing this on themselves by oversharing to the wrong people,” because it’s neither kids’ fault nor unique to children. this kind of oversharing is taking place with all ages and kinds of people on tumblr. 

this is to say, this is what this particular subculture has caused: healthy boundaries are kind of bulldozed to make room for a kind of disorganized sense of community and morality.

7. back to CP on a*3 (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think this kind of “CP is disgusting and you’re disgusting for looking at it” shit is dangerous. 

things this is NOT because of: 

CP deserves a place online

It’s A Slippery Slope, What Will They Ban Next

um, kinkshaming

there is no point in even trying to get predators off a*3

i just think it’s completely unhelpful. it’s literally a waste of their time. they’re wasting their time and hurting themselves and others in the process. it’s lacking in nuance and perspective. 

what we should be saying is “CP is a red flag. CP tells you something about the person posting it.” 

we shouldn’t be asking “are you okay with child abuse,” we should be asking, “what does this content say about the person posting it? are they unsafe to have around? if i realize too late that they’re unsafe, who can i turn to?” those are the kinds of questions we should be asking if our goal really is to protect people.

what the collection of block lists of supposed abuse apologists says is this: “you have to choose between not having to police online behavior, and proving your morals to me, a complete fucking stranger. if your morals are lacking, you’re out, we don’t speak to you anymore, and we tell everyone who will listen that you are a bad person.” 

not to delegitimize their concerns, but it’s fully just mccarthyism. like... that’s what mccarthyism was like. the fact that mccarthyism was bad isn’t even the point, it’s important to recall that mccarthyism did not work. it stopped happening for myriad reasons, one of which was that it was hurting people and wasting resources and doing absolutely nothing else. 

i obviously don’t want to be labeled “anti-american pinko scum” and fired from my job and disallowed from my neighbor’s house. who would? they’re not actually weeding out anybody dangerous, they’re just rounding people up who are just as angry as they are or who are scared of them lmfao. 

ever since that shitty post of mine went viral (which - “viral,” i guarantee it isn’t viral, i stopped looking at it literally that night) i’ve been terrified that one of these days i’m gonna like, comment on something and have the OP be like “wait a minute, you’re that bitch who made fun of some anti-a*3 people, unfollow me” lmfao. like, that’s what this rhetoric is accomplishing. 

i’m not boohooing, i deserved a slap on the wrist for making rude comments. i’m just telling you the extent of the results they’re getting. they made me feel sad. so at least there’s that. 

8. anti-a*3 people (has questions for anyone in it)

“fine, so we’re not trying to evangelize for not liking CP. so what? we don’t want people who like CP around. supporting that stuff is disgusting. we are blocking them for our own safety and don’t appreciate the tone police coming in and telling us it’s no big deal.” - an anti a*3 person, probably

yeah i mean, i get that. if i was really upset about something important and somebody told me “you’re right, but shut up about it,” i would also be pissed. 

my question, though, is this: is the underage tag on a*3 the limit we want to place on our activism against predators online? at minimum, is yelling at and blocking people about it on tumblr making us feel safer?

and also: how are we going to define the things we are trying to get rid of? what is underage? how do we account for differences in culture? how do we account for nuance when we make broad judgments? 

and also: who do we really hold responsible for this? who do we think is at fault and what do we want them to do?

i feel like we could all benefit from some perspective here.

9. back to you (has questions for you in it)

so like, is it fun? how’d you get the position? how long do you work typically?

do you talk directly with higher-ups or whatever? do you have coworkers?

do you have to read through lots of fic yourself or does stuff get reported to you and then you look at it? 

what other stuff do you report content for, aside from abusive content? like i read a post saying people shouldn’t be advertising their paypal or whatever on their a*3, do you nip stuff like that in the bud or is that something else? 

what if it’s just mistagged, presumably by human error not by a legitimate abuse of the system, what do you do? do you tag it for them or do you reach out to them and tell them to fix it or what?

who decided on the color scheme? can there be a skin that’s orange and avocado green? can you pass that on for whoever does the colors? i think i’d spend more time on any particular website if the color scheme was a nice, desaturated orange and avocado green.

nice

[porniscancer]

Two pieces of advice I constantly give people are these:

-Never look for happiness in other people. I promise you it will slowly destroy you inside.

-Guard your heart and be careful to whom you give it to. You don’t get those pieces of yourself back.

I should take my own advice

So I’m not going to get terribly in depth into my personal life just for the sake that it is not necessary for the sake of this confession/rant/unloading or whatever you want to call it. I’m just putting things to words to get them off my chest. I hope anyone reading this doesn’t think any less of me by the end of it.

I’ve been married to my wife for quite some time now. I can’t say the whole time has been good. Quite frankly a lot of it has been just varying degrees of hard. Some my fault, some hers, as would be with any relationship. I’m not going to go in to the entire history of our marriage. What I will say is that, yes, she has known about my addiction since before we were married (which she had always been supportive of me over. Probably because she struggles, herself). It has also increasingly become cold. As much....... drive..... as I have, she has never really reciprocated. Not most of the time, anyway. We’ve had moments but our marriage has left me intensely frustrated in that arena for all but probably a total of two years of it.

We’ve gotten along ok. But if I’m being honest, our marriage sucks. Things haven’t been the same since we had kids. She became increasingly short tempered and snappy with me for a long while. Shutting off to my physically as well. Which built up a lot of resentment in me. I’m not perfect. There’s things I could do better. I’m not a tremendously wonderful communicator and don’t express myself very well unless I’m super comfortable (which, if you can imagine, is difficult to do when you’re afraid of being snapped at).

Fast forward to six years ago when a friend of mine from Facebook messaged me asking for prayer because her fiancée left her. She was emotionally unstable and I feared for her well being. The two of us became close. Way too close. Not inappropriately, but emotionally. I admit that now. At the time, I became emotional support for her. While I regret how I handled the friendship and how close I let it get, at the time I felt she was a danger to herself and she trusted me. My wife was very uncomfortable with it and we had discussions about it. I should have put her in closer contact with someone else to help her and backed off. But I didn’t. I felt appreciated and needed.... which became addicting. During this time, my wife made an earnest attempt for about 3/4 of the year to be close to me. It was the first time in years I truly felt wanted. But it didn’t last. Neither did the other friendship. She eventually started dating someone and I became a mere afterthought. Not to overshare, but it was also during this time that was the last time we had sex. She’d been getting into gaming (where she’s got a friend of her own that she’s inappropriately close to that she thinks I don’t know about) and she got a new laptop. The games became her focus and she spent more and more time with it while I became ignored and she wanted nothing to do with me physically.

Fast forward to last year. A friend from Facebook and I started chatting after I shared a joke with her privately. Only reason I sent her that was because she’d posted something about finding amusement in dark humor and so I sent it to her because it was something I find funny that others might not think are funny and I don’t want to offend anyone. Everything’s fine at this point. We mostly shared memes and humorous banter for a couple of months. Then one night when she’d had a drink (enough to be a little tipsy) she told me her husband hated her. I don’t know why she told me that. But she opened up that sometimes he’s mean to her and treats her like he hates her. Which, if you can imagine, resonates (seriously.... I’ve been snapped at for simply trying to help or do something nice. This is not an exaggeration). And, because I’m the dumbest man alive and I don’t learn from mistakes, we became close. Our conversations have been inappropriate at times. She’s confessed to me a few times she finds me very attractive which I, regrettably, reciprocated. But we did eventually resolve to keep our conversations appropriate and have been doing so. I’m trying to deal with this with a lot of prayer and by allowing space with my friend. Just..... as you can imagine, it’s causing a tremendous amount of inner turmoil. I’ve been dealing with a lot of anxiety and worsening depression over it. Both out of guilt for feeling anything in the first place as well as despair knowing nothing can possibly come from it as we are both married and are both serious about marriage being a life long commitment. I already often feel no hope that my life will get better. This just adds to it. Even though I shouldn’t and there’s no chance short of divine intervention of anything coming of it, I feel a deep pain every time I see her post a photo of her with her husband. Which then makes me feel guilty and hopeless.

At the end of the day, really, I know I need to guard my heart. I know most of my wounds are self inflicted. But if you take anything from this, please.... take the advice I’m too dumb to listen to. Don’t wrap up your happiness in other people. It’s a bad idea. They will fail you in one capacity or another or you’ll latchh on and become dependent and when things change you will experience deep hurt. AND.... guard your heart. When you get close to someone like that, you don’t get those pieces of your heart back. No matter how much time goes by, your heart will still miss them every time you’re reminded of them.

I’m not looking for advice or help. Just venting what’s on my heart for therapeutic purposes. I do hope anyone that’s read this far doesn’t think any less of me. If you want to know why my heart latched on to two women it shouldn’t have? It’s very simple..... I felt wanted and needed

[hoedameron]

okay......this is gonna be a serious personal post because i feel like i should talk about my life after what is probably a year after a night i wish i could forget. 

cw warning for unpacking “trauma” (i say that in quotations because i don’t know how to define it)

a year ago, i got into a terrible fight with my mom that involved the entire family. it was really ugly, and it started out because of my half-brother. i won’t go into too much detail despite the fact that i love to overshare but there are some things that are best not told out in the open. anyways, there was tears, sobs, yelling, everything but anything physical. hell, it almost even went as far as being outed to my parents. it was scary and the following few days i had nightmares plus reoccurring “day terrors” where i couldn’t get certain images and words out of my head. a lot of my friends and mutuals were concerned for my and my sister’s safety because it was not a good environment to be in, that i will admit. however, i decided to keep my head down, to avoid talking to my mom, and just...keeping a low profile in my own house.

it was emotionally draining to be around such negativity. i hated seeing everyone so miserable, and it pained me that in order to keep the peace, i had to stop talking to my mom altogether. now, my mom before that fight has been my confidant, somebody i would tell the world to, and though it wasn’t like the best relationship, it was my own and it was healthy in my book. to rip that out from right under me was frightening, but i had to remember that she hurt me that night with her words, and the vicious things she had said to defend her son without taking into consideration her daughters’ safety was something that can’t automatically be forgiven. my forgiveness had to be earned. now, you know how nice and kind i am and i was so, SO tempted to just crawl back into her arms because i didn’t want to be upset and angry with her for hurting me. i wanted everything to be “normal”, to go back to be “okay” but i soon realized that “okay” was also harming my sister in the process. let’s just say that because i was seen as some “golden child”, my sister acted out and rebelled and my parents never really unlearned that mindset as she grew up.

anyways, so, for over a year now, i haven’t talked to my mom in an actual engaging conversation. yes, i still talk to her but it’s more so little bits of conversation. i am very much still cold towards her, i keep my words to a minimum, and yes, it still pains me to do so. i want my mom back, please know that. i want to make up for lost time even if i have nothing new to share with her...i just miss my mom being my mom. watching her shrivel up in the first few weeks was so hard and i know she too struggles with mental health and i was so afraid that this whole cold treatment we were giving her was going to break her in the worst way possible. i didn’t want anybody else to suffer, please understand that, but at the same time, we needed space. we needed her to understand that the environment that we were and i am still am in is not safe, that it’s toxic when her son is around and our family had been broken once he started living with us. he terrifies me and sometimes i forget what he is capable of. however, being the only one left in this house serves me right for leaving my sister in this environment as i went away for college, leaving her behind to fend for herself....she deserved better.

ha, see...i’m crying again. the first few weeks were tough to not talk to my mom. my dad had become somebody my sister and i came to, something we didn’t really do but he offered support. he held me that night as i sobbed into his shoulder, telling me it was going to be okay. i remember hugging my sister that night when i said all we had is each other. going off track, sorry. but yeah, there isn’t very much progress to be honest. my sister was mainly the one who tested to waters with our mom because she needed guidance as she was planning to move with her husband thousand of miles away from us. it was a lot of back and forth, yes i will talk to you, no we are done talking because you raised your tone at me...so much of that seesawed but my treatment remained the same. i’m still scared of my mom and not so much as me shaking every time she’s around but i’m afraid that something can lead me down a dangerous path if i act out of line. there are some things i wish i could come to her about but i realized she doesn’t know who i am. i miss her so much y’all i can’t express to you how hard it is to have a part of your world become a stranger in a matter of a few minutes. it hasn’t been easy, it probably affected me in ways i still haven’t processed yet. my best friend still tells me i need to get out of there and has offered me to stay with her and to pay for the plane ticket. i don’t want to abandon something i can salvage because a silly optimist part of me thinks...knows i can save it somehow.

it feels like an empty house, one where we are just a bunch of roommates living under one roof. without my sister, i realized i am not much. without my sister, i realized i am small. i know i am a disappointment to my parents, that i am a financial burden because i am out of work due to the pandemic, i myself feel so damn pathetic for typing this up and crying as if somebody will read this at close to one in the morning. i am so....lost. i am lost. i am broken. i feel so small and directionless and i feel like i failed for not putting my family pack together. i don’t know how to make it right. i don’t know what to do because there is a big elephant in the room that needs to be addressed but as far as my mom is concerned, he is not the problem when he is. i am now my own tiny warrior and i want to so desperately lay down my arms and surrender but i don’t want him to win.

i go through ups and downs, sometimes i am in a good mood, sometimes i am not in the mood to interact with people. i try to be appear as if nothing ever happened, and sometimes i forget that ever happened and it’s good for awhile until it comes crashing down upon me. i wish things were better, i wish that fight never had happened, i wish so many things but i know that i must put in the work to make things better, to make my future better. sometimes i look at places in the city i went to college and think about living there. i was happier then. i want to be me again without all this weighing on me. i wish i was tougher, like i am too soft sometimes and that gets me in the worst positions at times. sometimes the only energy i have is to just survive and to pretend that everything is okay when it really isn’t. it’s safer that way.

...i don’t know what else to say other than that the environment has “improved” and by improved i mean i still avoid my mom, keep the conversations short, and just keep surviving. i don’t have a plan, i am scared of the outside, so i just sit here, talking to who knows is on the other side of the screen, if there is anybody.

at least you are doing okay

i’m sorry for being a downer...i don’t really want to talk to my friends about it because it can be too much and i don’t want to get a therapist because that’s expensive. this will suffice, i will find a way to fix this, i have always been the family mediator after all. maybe i should stop putting everybody first and start thinking for myself and doing things for me....but today is not the day. nor tomorrow, nor the next month, nor the next year...but maybe one day. don’t worry about me if you are, i’ll be okay. i’ve gotten through one year of this, right?

[melloroom]

I posted this on Deviantart but I'm posting it here too because I spent over an hour writing it

Hey, so I wanted to talk a little about BPD. And I want to explain what it's like to have, what the worst parts are, and what to do about it.

HERE IS AN ANALOGY FOR BPD (for better or worse):

 I want to frame BPD like Acid Reflux Disease for convenience. At some point, something massive broke down your bodies "natural defenses," until you had it. The worst kind of "it" you can have. "It" is in you longer than any temporary, sickening substance should ever be. Your body fights to get it all out but you're already compromised. There is now no possibility of purging yourself without losing your footing. So you "vomit" for as long as you have to to get it out. In this analogy, I need to make a distinction.

For Acid Reflux Disease the extreme acid takes about 6 hours to vomit out.But for BPD, you will spend anywhere between weeks to years purging yourself to be well again. And then there is the aftermath. The effects of the damage will be long-lasting. Your body will recommunicate to you that you ARE sick, semi-permanently.  lesser but strong symptoms (mimicking the first sickness) will circulate in and out until you're well again (not anytime soon). And each time it will take less to trigger an episode.

Maybe before the disease, you could eat cappuccinos and cheeseburgers and feel fine. But afterward, a simple cup of coffee will fester in your stomach. You will feel like you've ruined yourself, or betrayed your body. The psychological effects will be as long-lasting as the side effects. Sometimes you will trigger the pain without having eaten, as you allow the stress to consume you. If one day you're feeling okay again, like it might finally be over enough to splurge, you do. But then the sickness returns. Is it your body betraying your trust in return for what you did to it? it feels like it. you wear yourself down. That is where the analogy has to end. I have a lot more to say that an allegory about trauma by itself will not communicate. BPD is about a lot more than dealing with trauma. It needs to factor in the type of trauma and the style of stress that is reacting to it.

My background:

My trauma was isolation. My parental figures were very incapable of connecting with me in a meaningful way. One suffers from an input processing disorder (she lived in her head). The other has ADHD. I love my parents more than anything, but they didn't respond to my love for them in the way that I was often expecting. We didn't understand each other, and they still do not understand what I was going through. I believe now that they don't have the faculty for it. I had to forgive them for that to move past my trauma. To be more specific about my situation, it was an issue of having stunted parents.

My mom didn't know how to respond to my pleas for attention. and could not talk me through distressful situations such as death. My father figure was unable to control his anger. He also held onto many biases including about my gender/rational scope. I understand that he sees me as having an inferior intellect to himself and to every boy. I'm quick thinking like my mom, without her knack for minimizing sexist behavior, if not flat out ignore it.

I learned to respond to our dysfunctional relationship with extreme contempt, and hostility. Part of my repetitious routine (to get over my trauma) has been purging myself of feelings of hatred for them by lashing out at them, and even peers. It was overflowing the hatred I held onto tight yet, never wanted to manifest. Because I wanted to love them. My hatred made me pretty antisocial as a kid. I also patronized many people my age. This because I learned to communicate as if everyone were like mom and dad - stunted. It led to offending people and losing friendships. I was incapable (stunted myself) to communicate appropriately with peers, despite needing to.

This brings me to the worst parts of BPD (you might consider these also my symptoms):

Wasted time/wasted opportunities

Poor communication skills.

Repeated episodes brought on without warning, and without a clear trigger.

Self-blame

Self-hatred

Intense focus on what you've lost.

Denying there is anything wrong

“Easing” self-hatred by imitating people you admire (or adversely, imitating antisocial/sociopathic people).

Being inconsistent in your job or personal pursuits.

Trying to get people close to you to admit they don't like you. It is because you want to make sense of how you see yourself. Sometimes they will fall out of favor with you and it feels awful for a while. This is, in a way, getting your fix. You will never be satisfied, however, because deep down you won't want it to be true (and it isn't true anyway).

Wanting to be close to a person, then wanting to completely detach from them, or suspect them of wronging you (often without just cause).

Paranoia

Twisted sense of self

Warped anger and jealousy results when others around us are receiving more attention and positive affirmation than us, without a clear explanation. (”What did I do wrong?” “Why doesn’t anyone like me?” are extremely common inner thoughts).

Rapidly changing perspectives (one minute you’re a die-hard optimist, next you’re a through-and-through pessimist)

Oversharing (very frequently)

Ducking therapists calls

Keeping relationships long distance/infrequent OR ONLY having codependent relationships.

Never feeling good enough.

So now that I laid out most of what I wanted to, here is what I'm doing about my BPD (or am trying to do):

Not verbally blame my-self (it's a really really tempting thing to do, but you just can't).

Not hate people who don't want to be close to me. Yes, even if they're my parents. you cannot hate and still be well. You need to purge your hate no matter how justified it might be.

Being honest about how much space I will need upfront. I don't take on relationships or responsibilities that I cannot afford. I know my limits now.

Talking to animals who show unconditional love

Limiting sad&angry music. (you cannot afford it with this disease. its your Cappucino & it will make you sick so just put it down)

Excercise (release cortisol and tension)

Self-care (regular doctor visits, brushing teeth, and bathing chief among them)

Stop grinding your teeth (get a mouth guard)

Paying attention to involuntary body language. especially unconsciously furrowing the brow or tightening the muscles. Notice it and stop it as needed.

Let out anger alone, never around your friends or loved ones.

Let out sorrow with someone else, never alone.

ASKING. FOR. REAFFIRMATION. It’s OKAY to need to be frequently told you did nothing wrong/aren’t a bad person IF that is what it takes to stop jumping to conclusions. Make an extra effort to ignore your instinctual assumptions. Your instincts are NOT working correctly right now. They really do not hate you, it’s all in your head.

When someone confronts you and triggers a huge spiral of emotions and you might breakdown or self-harm, go to a therapist or someone close that you trust and have them communicate to the person or people you’re having issues with on your behalf. Do not attempt to confront anyone in your condition. Ever.

So that's most (or all) of what I felt was worth sharing.

[manawhaat]

Welcome to Womanhood

Title: Welcome to Womanhood

Characters: Steve x Reader, Tony, Sam, Wanda, Natasha, Bruce, Pepper. 

Summary: When you’re faced with seeing a gynecologist, Steve and Tony don’t understand your hangups.

Prompt: No One Believes Them - for @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings: Angst, feelings of panic/fear/anger, brief mentions of past mental trauma, doctor’s offices, gynecologists/ gynecological descriptions, tmi, slight fluff, slight sexy vibes? 

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Written for Star Spangled Bingo. This fic stems directly from personal history and experiences and it’s an overshare and super specific but writing it has helped me so fuck it. FYI, any dramatization or exaggeration of time in this fic are based on the exact wait times of my own gyno visit last month. Thank you @thelittleredwhocould for the beta and thank you to anyone who reads this 👍

“Ms. Y/l/n, Mr. Stark has an appointment for you today.”

“Does he, now? Cause I don’t remember having Dr. Stark and Banner in my calendar, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“This appointment was scheduled today.”

“Well how ever am I supposed to know if I have time for an appointment if it’s scheduled at the last minute?” you tease, voice all sing-song and high pitched. Steve and Sam smirk at your back and forth from the kitchen island.

Before the program can respond Tony rounds the corner with Wanda and Nat on his tail, knocking on the counter top to get your attention.

“Speak of the devil.” Sam winks in your direction and your mouth draws into smile.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Tony snarks at Sam. “Anyway, I’m gonna need to steal you away for a bit, Y/n. Doc’s waiting.”

“What kind of doctor am I seeing today, Anthony? I thought you and Bruce were gonna do all of our check ups, and last time I checked, you were done with me.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think Cap, here, would want me or Banner up close and personal with your fun bits, even with all of my-” he clears his throat and paints on a cocky grin- “experience in the field. So I’ve brought in one of the best. Pepper’s doctor already did those two-” he waves a finger at Nat and Wanda at the other side of the island with Steve and Sam- “so we’re just waiting on you.”

A pit forms in your stomach and a lump fills your throat. “A- a gynecologist?”

“Yeah, last stop on the Health Express. Now, all aboard,” Tony jokes, completely amused by himself as he fake toots a train horn, oblivious to the panic in your eyes.

“No.”

Steve’s eyes lift from his notebook at your answer. The moment he takes in your stance, defensive and scared, he knows something is wrong.   

“Oh, come on. You’ve sat there for every test we’ve done. Don’t get doctor shy on me, now. He’s great, right girls?” He claps his hands and opens them to the women behind Sam.

Wanda nods. “Very gentle.”

“Probably the best I’ve ever seen,” Natasha agrees.

“See? He’s stellar, so let’s go and we’ll get it over with and have you back here in a jiffy.”

Your head shakes back and forth in disbelief. “This can’t be happening.” It’s a whisper that no one hears and when Tony reaches for your wrist you snap and lose any semblance of cool you’d been holding onto. “Don’t fucking touch me!” The tone of your voice and fire in your eyes is enough for the guys to stand from their chairs as the girls look on with concerned eyes.

“Easy, tiger,” Tony coos, hands up in surrender.

“How dare you, Tony?”

Tired of your ‘outburst’, he deadpans, “It’s just a check up, Y/n.”

“How could you just decide this for me? Without even asking me or giving me time to-”

“Y/n, sweetheart,” Steve coos, walking around the island to de-escalate the situation.

“This is my body. Not yours. Goddammit! You have absolutely no right to grant anyone access to my body, to something so intimate,” you rage, torn apart with anger that Tony could make you feel so violated.

“Y/n, hey, look at me.”

When Steve is shoulder to shoulder with Tony, you freeze. As comforting as your boyfriend usually is, he’s too big and he’s caging you in, only adding to the fear filling you to the brim. It’s a defense mechanism, but your fists curl at your sides as he slowly approaches.

“Stop,” you plead, eyes dangerously close to spilling tears.  

He does, and before anyone can blink a red hue fills their eyes. The posture they’d adopted to make themselves look smaller fades away and they turn to walk out of the room. Eyes darting from person to person, you find Wanda with energy flowing from her fingertips, mercifully removing them from the situation long enough for you to dart out of the room with Sam on your heels.

Sam calls after you, a gentle hand wrapping around your upper arm. “Hey, hey, hold up. Are you okay?”

“I- fuck!”

His hands wrap around your shoulders, his soft, concerned eyes anchoring you as he takes a breath that you mimic. “It’s okay. It’s just me. Do you want me to take you somewhere for a while?” he asks, knowing you need something but not quite knowing what exactly that is.

“Sam, I know you wanna help, but I can’t, okay. Maybe later, but for now, please just let me go,” you ask, shaking in his hold. He instantly takes a step back and raises his hands for you to leave, shooting you a small nod at the silent ‘thank you’ in your eyes.

Wanda and Natasha find you on the rooftop, face buried in your knees where you sit curled up in one of the plush deck chairs set out for sunbathing. The two take seats on either side of you, offering comfort that only another woman can provide.

Nat breaks the silence. “You okay?”

A wave of uneasiness fills you but slowly subsides into a feeling closer to guilt. “Uhm, I don’t know. But I’m sorry for all of that. And thank you for what you did, Wanda.”

“I saw what they couldn’t, so I’m happy I did the right thing.”

“When did Tony tell you guys about this?”

“About a week ago?” Wanda nods in agreement with Nat.

“We thought you knew about the exam today but apparently you didn’t. It took you by surprise and you showed that but you don’t need to apologize for that feeling,” Wanda explains.

Head falling, your eyes scrunch closed. “I know, I just, I feel like I freaked them out.”

“To be fair, Tony freaked you out first. Sooo….” Natasha smiles a little when you accept her words. “So, do you wanna talk about it?”

A heavy sigh leaves you and you sit up straight between them, fingers fiddling in your lap.

“I know that it’s just part of my health, but having someone down there-” you shudder- “inside of me, when they aren’t there for consensual romantic reasons….I  just- it’s a hurdle I can’t get over. My body, my sexuality, it's always been something I was raised to keep hidden. I get that my parents were trying to protect me, but they drilled it into me so deep in such an unhealthy way. ‘No boys, no romance, don’t even talk to boys. No sex until you’re married. Your body is yours and is NEVER to be shared with another person unless you’re married.’ And then one day my childhood doctor physically unbuttoned and unzipped my pants while I was laying there on his exam table. I freaked out.”

“Naturally,” Nat chimes.

“Naturally. I didn't let him do the exam so we left and my mom yelled at me the whole way home for not letting him look. Like, how the fuck can you tell someone their entire life not to share their body and then one day just say 'open your legs and let him see.’ and expect them to be okay? It’s so- I don’t know- personal? But it’s not personal the way it is with me and Steve, and that’s the only way my brain can process anyone down there. So the only thing left for me to label it as is invasive. No matter how much time I have I can never fully prepare for it, and the thought of Tony overseeing something so….so wrong,” you squeak, “God, it makes me want to vomit.”

“Hey.” Natasha’s voice has you lifting your chin to meet her eyes. “It’s not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with gynecologists. Tony is, well, Tony- and it was kind of a dick move of him to thrust that on you. But you do need to see someone.”

Eyes narrowing in her direction, even she can see you starting to crack. “Why are you always fucking right?”

“Me? Right? Is that even possible?” she grins sarcastically.  

“So you’ll see someone?” Wanda asks.

A grimace paints your face, but you nod. “Yeah. I know I have to, and at least if I set it up myself then I can be in control of it.”

“Good. And we’ll be here as long as you need us,” Nat smiles, wrapping her arm around you as Wanda hugs you from the other side.

Sandwiched between them, you sniff and let out a laugh. “Thank you.”

An hour later the three of you are just getting up to go back downstairs, find some ice cream, and watch chick flicks when a tall figure looms into view. Your back straightens, but the look in his eyes allows you to deflate.

Flashing a smile to Nat, she and Wanda leave you alone with Steve.

“Hey.”

You step into his space, reaching out for his hand. “Hey,” you sigh, playing with his fingers.

“I- I’m sorry for making things worse. Tony asked me this morning if you were available today and I told him you were. I figured he or Bruce or F.R.I.D.A.Y. would fill you in on the appointment.”

Dropping his hand, you take a step back. “You knew?” Venom laces into your voice and he stands straight. “You knew and you just volunteered me for that?”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“You and Tony ambushed me, Steve. What the fuck!”

Pushing past him, he groans and follows you. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Yeah, you sure as hell didn’t think, Steve.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm and all too Captain Rogers, but you stop anyway, turning on your heels to glare up at him. Broad shoulders are set high and those blue eyes are piercing.

“It’s just another doctor’s appointment. Ever since Pepper started riding Tony about his health we’ve all been going through it. I don’t understand what the issue is, Y/n.”

“Of course you fucking don’t,” you puff, completely defeated and unable to believe that this is your Steve standing in front of you. “A complete stranger opening me up and prodding around inside of me-” you shove at his chest- “physically feeling the most intimate part of me while I’m laying there on a cold, hard table, forced to just sit there and let it happen for the sake of my health….” Tears finally spill from your eyes and your voice wavers as you continue. “That is not ‘just another doctor’s appointment’, Steve. It feels like molestation, and I can’t believe you would knowingly volunteer me for that.”

Broken voice, spirit, and heart, you walk away before he can say another word. You thank high heaven when he doesn’t chase after you, and you find Natasha and Wanda again, bunking down in Nat’s room for the night.

Things between you and Steve are awkward and tense for the first time in years. You’re both at odds and as much as it hurts to not be with him like normal, it hurts more knowing that he was part of what caused it.

Natasha is kind enough to share her room with you for a few days and when you start to overstay your welcome your room feels like a prison cell. The bed you share is too small, but Steve mercifully keeps his distance. It’s a rough couple of weeks before you find a doctor that you can talk to over the phone and after discussing your concerns and listening with an open heart she sets you up with an appointment.  

When you tell Steve it settles some of the tension between you. He just wants you healthy and your hang ups aren’t something he can understand or relate to -even when you open up to him and tell him everything. He’s usually so empathetic and understanding, but for some reason there’s just a disconnect that he can’t bridge. He wants to understand. He wants to believe you, but he just can’t help but feel like you’re being dramatic and overly sensitive to it, so he keeps his distance on the subject. As long as you’re taking care of yourself he won’t push it.  

Between missions popping up and your irregular periods reigning down endless sabotage you end up scheduling and cancelling four different appointments. The waiting game is inconvenient, stressful, and has more and more anxiety settling in your gut. It’s a shift in you that Steve easily notices and is a little surprised by, but your fifth attempt appointment date finally arrives without a hitch.

The two of you leave Stark Tower with dark shades and hats on, just in case. The subway is dark and all too bright at the same time, everything about the strangers caging you in as you reach your final destination making you almost nauseated with worry. The office is nice but still smells like old paper and hand sanitizer, and Steve sits with you as you fill out the forms that seem to never end.

“I didn’t think there would be so many questions,” he says, flipping the already filled out pages through his fingers. “You’ve been here for almost an hour just filling out forms… do they really need to know all of this if they’re looking at just one part of you.”

“Welcome to Womanhood, Captain.” The sarcasm doesn’t erase your distress, it barely hides it.

When you’re finally called back by the nurse Steve follows behind you. She puts up a feeble hand before her eyes scan his face. Pink crawls over her cheeks as she steps aside, giddy and half-focused as she takes your height and weight.

Steve stands there with your purse and shoes in his hand, a polite smile on his face as she composes herself and leads you both to the examination room.

Her words are simple. “The provider will be in soon.” And when the door shuts behind her, silence fills the already uncomfortable room.

Ten minutes pass before a different nurse comes in to take your vitals and ask a series of questions that weren’t on any of the forms you’d filled out. She seems to be completely oblivious to who you and Steve are and explains what they’ll be doing during this visit before setting out the instruments needed on a sterile cloth on the counter top.

“Go ahead and undress completely. This is the top, to be worn like a vest, and this is a sheet for the bottom,” she explains, holding the flimsy items up for display. “The provider will be in as soon as she can.” The door clicks behind her and you let out a huff.

“Why do they keep calling the doctor ‘the provider’?” Steve asks as you start undressing and handing him each item of clothing to fold into his lap.

“It’s supposed to be more removed and less personal than ‘doctor’ so you don’t feel like you’re being touched intimately, I guess.”

“I get the idea, but ‘provider’ sounds worse. Like you’re being probed.”

“Welcome to Womanhood, Captain,” you sneer with a fake salute that has Steve stiffening in his seat.

The sound of crinkly paper fills the room as you wrap the gown pieces across your body and try to find a way to secure them so you don’t have to actively hold them shut.

Steve smirks. “Nice outfit.”

You do a few model poses and spin around for him. “Oh, thanks. Wanna try it on?” The fake smile on your face turns to a real one at the way he chuckles.

Minutes that seem like hours pass at an agonizing pace, the build up and anticipation only making you more of a nervous wreck. The exam table beneath you is too firm and uncomfortable, so with a huff you jump off and Steve moves your clothes and purse to the counter so you can sit in the chair beside him.

The room is cold and quiet aside from your deep breaths and the hum of the fluorescent lights. Steve is at a loss for words, but he tries to comfort you. It doesn’t work. Every shift you make is loud, and soon the temperature of the room clings to your skin and worms past the paper dress you’re in. His arm wraps around you in an attempt to keep you warm, but it rips the fabric along your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out the second he realizes what’s happened.

A long sigh turns into grumbling as you get up and start digging through the drawer the nurse had opened earlier. He wants to help, to comfort you, but he can’t. Steve isn’t used to feeling helpless, so he stands and paces back and forth when you take your seat on the exam table, again.

A knock on the door has you perking up, and the nurse from before enters the room. “So, the provider is going to need a urine sample,” she says, holding up the plastic cup and alcohol wipe. “You can get dressed and use the restroom two doors down, and when you come back in I’ll have you get undressed and into a new gown.”

Your eyes roll but Steve jumps in, polite as ever as the nurse turns to leave the room. “Thank you.”

He hands you your clothes and when you come back from the restroom, pee cup in tow, the room is even colder than it was before.

“Jesus Christ, it’s freezing in here,” you shiver.

“I actually asked a nurse about it while you were gone. She said she’d try to fix it. I’d try to keep you warm, but-”

“Yeah, apparently Cap beats Paper,” you smirk, the mood light for a moment while you undress and re-robe.

Time passes like molasses. You’re looking at the purple hue under your fingernails when you finally ask, “What time is it?”

His brows knit together as he looks at his watch. “Holy shit. It’s almost three.”

“Language, Captain,” you smirk, all too unamused with this entire ordeal.

“We’ve been here for almost three hours. Why does this take so long?” he asks, voice quiet but appalled as he examines the tools set out on the counter.

“Gotta set the mood,” you laugh humorlessly, flopping back onto the table, not even caring about modesty or comfort anymore. Before you can speak, Steve takes the words right out of your mouth.

“This is exhausting.”

A breathy laugh leaves your mouth and another half hour passes before a knock on the door has you sitting up with a groan.

“Hello, Y/n,” the doctor smiles and extends her hand. “I’m Dr. Nakalah.”

Shaking her hand, you nod. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for speaking with me over the phone. Like I said, this is-” the words sit heavy on your tongue and your eyes begin to glass.

“It’s alright. Women’s health is a very personal thing and I want you to feel as comfortable as possible.” Her kindness and honesty warms your heart and she gives you a moment while she turns to Steve.

He stands and offers his hand, voice deep and soothing. It’s for you, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Steve Rogers- Y/n’s boyfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve. Thank you for coming with Y/n today. These things can feel invasive and be a bit overwhelming, so it’s always nice to see partners supporting each other.”

Pepper’s doctor might be one of the best but you’re happy you went with Dr. Nakalah. She’s human.

“So, Y/n, we’re going to do a Well Woman Exam today. That includes a breast exam, pap smear, and pelvic exam. In a minute I’ll have my medical assistants step in to help me with the exam and record the data.”

Her eyes flit to Steve and you clear your throat. “Um, can he stay in during the exam?”

“We don’t usually allow anyone else in the room, but with what we discussed, if you would feel more comfortable with him here, then yes, he can stay. If not, there’s a separate waiting room just around the corner.”

Steve hides his smile when you say, “I’ll have him stay.”

Two gentle knocks on the door prompt Dr. Nakalah to stand, the two nurses from before entering the room with polite smiles. The one with the laptop stands by the door as the other goes to the counter, ready to help the doctor with the exam.

“Ready?” Dr. Nakalah asks.

Your brows scrunch together and you half laugh out the words, “Hell no.” Steve goes rigid, but your smile breaks the tension and has all of the women in the room chuckling. A begrudging groan fills the room and you nod to the doctor, her voice calm as she begins.

“Like we talked about on the phone, I’ll talk you through everything we’re doing. Go ahead and lay back, then lift your arm over your head.” Nodding, you do as she says. The paper crinkles as you move it aside and her hands are gentle as she starts applying pressure to your breast. “We’re gonna feel around for any lumps or differences in breast tissue. You can do this at home routinely, and if you notice anything contact us and schedule and exam immediately.”

Your head turns and you catch Steve’s eyes. They’re filled with concern, but this isn’t the part you have any trouble with. ‘I’m good’ you mouth, and his shoulders lower a little.

She examines each breast and nods down at you. “Ok, everything felt normal. We’re going to go into the pap, now. Please put your feet into the stirrups and scoot to the edge of the table. Your butt should be almost off the edge of it.”

A hard lump forms in your throat but you do as she asks. Your thighs are still shut tight and the thought of having to expose yourself so fully has you sucking in a ragged breath. The doctor waits patiently, giving you the time to do it yourself. At the edge of the table, you mentally prepare yourself and let your knees fall open a bit, your neck straining a bit to look at the doctor.

“Is that far enough?” you ask.

“Just a little more,” she instructs, asking you to scoot closer and open your legs more. “Ok, good.”

When you look again, Steve has stood and is off to the side of the doctor, wanting to watch the process that plagues you so painfully. The line of his jaw is set tight and his eyes are laser focused when the assistant behind her clicks open the cap and lubes the speculum, handing it to your doctor and grabbing the swabs.

“Alright, I’m going to insert the speculum and open it up, then we’ll get a swab of your cervix. Try to relax and take deep breaths for me.”

As she moves the tool toward you, you decide you can’t watch. Your head thunks against the padded table as you heave in a breath, trying to control it as the speculum tip is pressed against your lips. There’s a little bit of resistance, and you open your legs further before it starts sliding in. Wrenching your eyes closed and curling your fists into the thin paper, the plastic stops, caught on your labia.

“Just gonna push this in a little more,” she says, and then there’s a bit of weight behind her hand where it is pushed in as far as it needs to be.  

“I’m gonna open this up and do a couple of swabs. You’ll feel some little pressure, here, Y/n,” she warns.” The speculum opens, and the pressure isn’t too bad. It’s definitely not comfortable, but you aren’t in pain, so you risk a glance.

The look on Steve’s face is one you’ve never seen before. It’s a mixture of shock, mortification, guilt, worry, and fear.

Dr. Nakalah takes the swabs from her assistant and meets your eyes, shooting you an encouraging and comforting nod. The discomfort is temporary and before you have time to overthink and panic, she’s speaking again. “Done with that, just going to remove this.”

It’s an odd feeling that sends a shiver crawling up your spine and fluttering in your gut as the plastic slips out of you. As exposed as you still are, it’s much better than the vulnerability of being splayed open in front of everyone.

“Alright. Doing great. For the pelvic exam I’m going to place a finger inside and press down on your lower abdomen and pelvic area to feel for any irregularities and check your ovaries. Keep breathing, nice and even, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, watching as she stands from her stool. The assistant places lube on Dr. Nakalah’s gloved finger and then she’s standing between your legs. One hand placed atop your pelvis, her finger pushes into you, the hand on your pelvis applying pressure as she feels for any abnormalities. “Alright, and we’re done,” she says, easing her finger out of you and stepping back.  

Steve comes to your side, left a little dazed by what he saw, but he helps you to sit up as your feet drop slowly out of the stirrups. His hands are warm on your back and you pull the sheet back over your lap while the nurses and doctor collect the samples and remove their gloves. “Okay, Y/n, you can get dressed and one of the nurses will be back in a few minutes to schedule your follow up. We’ll give you a call when your results are back, and if you have any questions or would like to talk about the visit today please feel free to call any time.”

“Thank you so much.”

She shakes your hand again, eyes kind and warm, then shakes Steve’s hand and leaves. When it’s just the two of you in the room again, Steve’s deep voice is in your hairline. “You did great, sweetheart.”

Eyes shut, you’re able to let out the shudder that had sunk into your bones, a noise coming from your mouth as you let it go and shake your hands and head to get it out. Your posture deflates while you simply sit for a second and calm your racing heart. When you shift to stand, the excess lube slips through your labia and you wince, turning to your boyfriend.

“Can you, um, can you turn around for a minute?” He seems a little puzzled, but complies with your request.

Hopping off the table, you use the sheet you were wrapped in to wipe between your legs, then crinkle it up into a ball. There’s still lube down there, so you find the tissues on the counter and use a few to wipe away and scoop out what’s left from the exam. Steve is still facing the wall and when you pull the tissue away there’s a mixture of lube and blood. A flicker of fear ignites in your chest and you wipe a couple more times until the blood and lube are gone.

Tossing the paper and pulling on your clothes warmth seeps back into your skin and you let out a small, happy sigh when you’re fully dressed again.

“Ok, you can turn around, now.” He does, and you smile at him from the sink. “Thank you.”

You can’t wash your hands fast enough and you don’t even bother to dry them before crashing yourself into his chest. A hum vibrates against your cheek and his thick arms wrap around you, holding you tight.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t believe you. I didn’t think this was a big deal and I hate that I hurt you. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be on your side of that, but I have a better understanding of what this means to you, now, and I’m so proud of you for staying as calm as you did while you went through that.”

Tears cloud your eyes and you simply bury yourself deeper in his chest, happy that you have your Steve back. He exudes tranquility and you bask in it, evening your breathing to match his beating heart, not pulling away from his hold until the nurse is knocking on the door again. She sets a follow up for you and asks if you have any questions.

“Um, yeah. Uhh, when I cleaned up the lube there was-” you clear your throat- “I was bleeding…”

Steve’s eyes shoot open wide as the nurse nods. “Some bleeding or spotting and cramping can be normal after a pap. If it’s excessive then you’ll need to come back in or go to an emergency room, but it’s usually just the day of or the day after,” she explains, and your unease is sated.

You nod and smile. “Oh, ok, perfect. It freaked me out and I just wanted to check.”

“Yeah, it should be fine. Just monitor it. And here’s your next appointment for follow up.” She hands you an appointment card. “Dr. Nakalah’s number is on there, as well, so you can call the office or call her directly if you need to cancel, reschedule, or have any more questions. Thank you, and have a great rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” you and Steve chime in unison, smiles on all of your faces as she leaves.

When the two of you exit the building, the sky outside is gold and orange and pink with blue bits starting to fade in. The air is a little cooler on your skin and your hand finds Steve’s out of instinct. He sighs- full chested, tongue swiping quickly over his lips with squinted eyes.

When he looks down at you a residual shiver runs up your spine and he pulls you into his side. Breathing him in, his scent and warmth soothe you. With your feet moving together, slowly, but in sync, he hums, voice a little more timid than before.

“I’m sorry, again, Y/n. For all of it.”

“Thank you for coming with me; for seeing for yourself.”

Steve stops you, those oceanic eyes making you melt into him. He drops his mouth, lets the space between you linger. Then, he closes in with a weight behind his actions, fingertips slipping up into your hairline as he holds you there to make sure he’s getting it all right.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed in almost a month. It’s filled with apologies and love, one kiss to make up for all the time he didn’t spend kissing you. The sounds of the street fade away and in the middle of a busy world it’s just the you and your Steve- mouth to mouth, heart to heart.

The rest of the way home you keep yourself pressed up against his side, shuddering at random until you’re in the safety of your room again. Undressing each other slowly and kissing with no destination in mind, Steve leaves your needy lips to run a bath and when the water’s warm and the enormous tub is full, he pulls you into it, your chest pressed against his as he hums an old song into your hair.

“Ya know, if anything can make me forgive Tony, it’s this bathtub.”

Laughter echoes off the bathroom walls and Steve nods down at you, asking, “Will you talk to him?”

There’s an attempt to mask your pain, but he sees past it. You shrug. “Probably not.”

Steve lets out a sigh and you know he’s a little disappointed with that answer.

Knocking on the bathroom door has you both at attention and Steve going to get up from the tub when Tony’s voice filters in from the other side. “Y/n, you in there?”

Steve’s voice is teeming with intrigue and his eyebrow quirks up when he sinks back down into the hot water. “Speak of the devil.”

“Yeah, Tony. What’s up?” Your eyes roll and Steve shoots you a look that says, ‘give him a chance’, so you pull a face but listen when Tony starts talking.

“Ah, yeah, so I just wanted to say sorry for the whole, well, you know. And, uhh, I’m sorry if you felt like- ow.” Tony stops and the two of you look at each other, puzzled for a moment before the muttering on the other side of the door and an audible smack reach your ears.

“Start over right now, Tony,” Pepper demands in a harsh whisper.

Ear-to-ear smiles bloom on your faces when you and Steve lock eyes and Tony starts over again. “I’m sorry for not realizing that surprising you with a gynecologist isn’t a good surprise.”

“Jesus Christ,” Pepper hisses, making you and Steve suppress your laughter.

“And it was wrong of me to assume that would be okay?” He stops for a beat and you can practically see him on the other side of the door looking at Pepper to see if his words are the ones she wants him to say. “Yes. I shouldn’t have done that to you, aaaand-”

“It won’t happen again.” Pepper whispers.

“It won’t happen again.” Tony declares.

Silence fills the room and when nothing else comes from his end, Steve wraps his hand around yours. “Well?”

“With an apology like that?”

Steve shrugs and you half laugh, half sigh before calling out, “Thank you, Pepper.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re welcome, Y/n,” she replies.

“Um, no, sorry, Pepper isn’t here right now.”

“We left a few gifts on the bed for you. And sorry again, sweetheart,” she says through the door. Tony keeps rambling but the sound soon fades as she drags him out of your room.

Steve chuckles deep and pulls you back to his chest, strong arms wrapping around you so he can whisper in your ear. “Better?”

Steve won’t doubt you again, and even with Pepper coaching Tony through his apology, you can tell that he knows he was wrong. The two of them can’t erase what they did, but it sure as hell won’t happen again.

“Y/n?” Steve asks, blue eyes looking at you like you’re all that’s good in the world.

Warmth fills your heart and you nod your head. “Better.”

When the water is only mildly warm and your fingers are pruney Steve pulls you out of the tub and wraps you in a plush, warm towel. True to Pepper’s words, a spread of gifts is laid out at the foot of your bed.

“Champagne, chocolate, flowers?” Steve turns to you with a sly grin. “Looks like Tony’s done his fair share of apologizing to women.”

You laugh and Steve plucks a note from the flowers, handing it to you while he clears the bed.

‘I messed up and you deserved better than what I gave you. Sorry, Kid.’

It’s somehow exactly what you need to hear from him.

A pop startles you but you smile when Steve offers you a glass of champagne and puts on some music. Champagne kisses are shared while the two of you sway to the music in just your towels and when your glasses are empty you get comfy for bed.

When Steve’s blue crystals turn into bedroom eyes you crawl up the bed and into his open arms. Fitting yourself perfectly in his hold, he wraps you up in a powerful kiss that makes you forgive and forget all the hell he’d put you through.

He has just one thing on his mind, and he’s only just getting started making it up to you.

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