#because the idea that these people are taking apart my body is so distressing to me

[l-cereta]

-

[milkb0nny]

Hello! May I request Jing Yuan and Welt finding usually silly and vibrant reader laying on the ground unmoving and unresponsive. Upon closer inspection they realize reader is crying with a blank expression . Turns out reader had to confront some people who hurt them deeply in the past and afterwards reader just shut down.

(I hope this isn't too much info. If your not comfy feel free to decline, I'd appreciate if you let me know though (mostly just for my peace of mind 😅))

Thank you.

🥐

Jing Yuan and Welt comforting their unresponsive s/o

Jing Yuan x gn!reader, Welt x gn! reader

Note: Thank you very much for this request! I love this idea and it was very healing while writing it. Everyone has their own struggles, so angsty fluff is always a good way to cope with stuff. Nevertheless, I hope you'll like it. Take care! 🤎

Warnings: mentions of trauma in the past, crying, unresponsive reader

𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧...

Jing Yuan, the General of the Xianzhou, stood beside his usually bubbly and extroverted partner, who was now unresponsive and in tears. He questioned himself, as he never saw you in such a sorry state. Sure, some days you cried on his shoulders and expressed your anxiety openly, but this was another level. Jing Yuan was torn apart by the sight of your motionless body that seemed to be glued on the ground. Never in his life did he expect you to be shaken to this point. The normally well put together man felt somehow responsible for your horrifying breakdown. Of course, Jing Yuan loved you and did everything for you. Witnessing how the tears left your eyes, creating a small puddle beneath your face, meant that he hadn’t been there the right time.

The traumatic encounter with the person linked to your past had left you deeply shattered, unable to contain the flood of emotions. Jing Yuan's calm and gentle nature belied the weight he carried as a leader, but in this moment, he was solely focused on comforting the love of his life. No matter what had happened to you in the past, he was now your new protector and savior from all the pain. The tall man came closer to you, slowly approaching you as he wanted to avoid frightening you. However, you flinched a little as he accidentally made a wrong move, and that alone caused unbelievable rage inside of him. How could someone harm you in this way, so much that you even flinch in sight of your partner.

Kneeling down beside your aching body, he slowly reached out and gently wiped away your hot tears, his touch soft as a breeze through the leaves. His voice, usually commanding on the battlefield, was now tender and soothing.

“My love, I'm here with you. You're safe with me,” he whispered, his gentleness pouring into your consciousness.

Your devastating sobs continued, but you still shifted your gaze to Jing Yuan, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. He wrapped his strong, protective arms around you, allowing you to bury your puffy face in his welcoming chest. He hummed reassuring words, his deep voice a balm to your distressed soul. Oh, he couldn’t imagine how much your sweet heart must suffer.

“You don't have to face this alone, darling. I'm here, right here, and I won't let anyone hurt you again. We'll heal together,” his words hit you like a struck, releasing you from the freezing trauma, and finally you can take a deep breath, that you missed the whole time. His love always softened you up but it also made you bawl your eyes out even more. Though, Jing Yuan never minded - it didn’t matter to him how much you sob and cry because all these emotions deserve to be heard.

Jing Yuan's love for you, his partner, was unwavering. He would willingly lay down his life to see you smile again in dark times, and this moment, as you clung to him, was a testament to that devotion. He was determined to be your sole anchor, to help you find your way back from the darkness that haunted you.

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭...

Welt, a respected and wise member of the Express, was known for his rationality and stern demeanor. March never mined his serious personality, but sometimes even she was a little intimidated by it - he always handled difficult things so easily. However, when it came to his lovely partner, he wore his heart on his sleeve. He had never expected to involve himself in a romantic relationship, but you entered his life with full grace. The moment he had set his tired eyes on you, all life flowed back into his senses, desiring you. He couldn't bear to see you unresponsive and in tears, especially knowing the cause was a traumatic reminder of the past. Welt didn’t need to analyze your state, as you had once told him about your past, but viewing your shivering yet still body caused a rip in his heart.

With utmost care and gentleness, Welt approached you, who had withdrawn into silence. He knew very well how to bring you back to the present. To be honest, he was glad to find you in this state, as he wouldn’t forgive himself, if he never discovered your fragile being. You usually hid in placed where you knew you were alone, though this time you were unable to make it. The man who found you was the safest space in the universe. Welt, gentler with you than with anyone, could never hurt you.

He spoke softly, his words laced with genius concern. "Love, I know you can hear me. You’re safe now, no one can do you harm. Whatever you're feeling, I'm here. Come here in my lap," his deep voice rushed through your foggy mind, and you eased up as the hope of safety proved itself.

Your mesmerizing eyes, usually filled with admiration and enjoyment of life, now reflected endless pain and vulnerability - vulnerability that made you feel so week too. Welt carefully took your ice-cold hand and held it firmly, his touch conveying reassurance and strength. His warmth was a contrast to the coldness of your skin, to you it felt reassuring though. His touch felt like the rising sun, slowly demolishing ice and uncovering nature, causing everything to bloom. You bloomed, pushing the hardships of your past away.

“You don't have to face this pain alone. I'm by your side, always," Welt inquired once more, promising you his love.

Welt's wisdom usually extended beyond the realms of intellect; it encompassed the depth of his emotional connection with you. He knew how to provide comfort, how to be the sanctuary you needed in this moment of turmoil. He was willing to give his all, even if it meant sacrificing himself, to see you going through this dark chapter. Kindness, food, a shelter - those were things everyone could give to you but Welt was the only one who collected all your pain and released you from it. Since you engaged in a relationship with the stern man, you healed more and more.

In this moment you started to cling to him, seeking solace in his embrace. Welt's facade of stoicism cracked, revealing the depth of love he held within. He adored you so much. He was ready to face any storm with you, protecting you at all costs, and cherishing the vulnerability that only he was privileged to witness. Welt loved how you expressed your feelings and he was proud - endlessly proud of you that you call out to him, even if you are non verbal.

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Shut up, EVERYBODY SHUT UP!

I had a idea I can’t stop thinking about.

The Sinclair brothers meet a tween reader (11-10) who’s face looks similar to Vincent’s, how would they react?

I LOVE your writing btw! Happy new year. 💞

Thank you! Hope you'll love more (⌒. −)~★ Sorry this turned out for child reader to be similar to Vincent ahrhe.

Requests currently not open! Trying to empty my inbox.

Sinclair brothers with child! Reader who's face is similar to Vincent.

First thought you were their long lost sibling.

While handling the tourists, bo saw a young child. It wasn't rare for children to be here but it also wasn't common. But he couldn't let you go and ruin their town.

As much as he hated it he had to take your life. He saw the small figure run into the woods frantically. He speed walked towards it wanting to make it quick and painless.

Terrified of this person who murdered your sibling and their friends you tried to escape as quietly and fastly as possible. The only thing in your mind right now is going far from this place.

Too panicked to realise the heavier footsteps behind you, only now realising after you felt a harsh grip on your arm.

You look up at the person who has a knife in his hand. You didn't scream or cry and you certainly weren't getting stabbed. You stare at the man whose face displays a hesitant and distressed expression.

Bo wasn't just reluctant to kill a kid, he was reluctant to kill a kid who looked so much like his twin. He lowered his knife down but kept a firm grasp on your arm.

Waiting to see what you would do, whether or not you would be a problem for them. If you aren't... He might just... Keep you alive.

It was weird really. You didn't feel threatened by this man when you locked eyes, maybe it was because of how he hesitated to kill you? Whatever it was you're just glad you're not on the ground dead.

Up until now you felt so scared. It was all so weird.

He stared at you for a couple of seconds then scoffed.

"what are you looking at?"

Before you could reply he lifted you up and started walking towards the wax museum. Holy shit, he was kidnapping a child just for the sake of not having to kill it. has he really gone this soft?

Everything about his face said frustration and embarrassment. You were struggling and trying to wiggle your way out, the panic came back again. Was he going to kill you? But the grip on your body were like those of steel.

He dropped you inside the House Of Wax. Where two other people were there.. And in the blink of an eye you're now apart of them.

Holy shit that sucked ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

The roadkill and wax brother were surprised when they first saw you. You look like.. Vincent!

Vincent was of thinking you as the baby version of him. Long lost sibling??

Long lost sibling definitely to Lester. It doesn't matter if you biologically and logically doesn't make sense, to him it does.

Bo wouldn't look at you for some reason.

Doesn't mean they'll trust you easily though. They didn't know how long you'll last here, or how long until you try to run or betray. But for the time being they're gonna enjoy their moments.

After every arguments and rough moments between Bo and vinny, he would refuse to look at you. He says it's because you look so similar to Vincent it disgusts him but really he's just a bit guilty. Lester tells you not to worry about it and leads you somewhere else. (no he won't apologise)

Vincent will look at you (your face is not deformed like his here) and wishes that he instead looked like how you did. he observes at he would've looked if the left side of his face wasn't attached to Bo at birth.

It hurts him but a part of him is glad you won't feel the same things he does.

Sorry this was so corny, I made vinny too soft omg

[1moreff-creator]

Happy Birthday Ace Markey!

And happy Halloween! Seems like the character most afraid of everything that moves got the spooky holiday as a birthday! What a silly guy.

Anyways, even though my DRDT’s a bit rusty, I’ll still give a half-baked analysis, fun facts and songs!

(Do keep in mind character analysis is subjective, though!)

-Ace is very unhappy with his life. That much is obvious, as he’s deeply afraid of horses, yet he’s still forced to become the Ultimate Jockey for reasons not yet completely clear.

-He’s claimed his fear diminishes when the time comes for a race, because the thought of losing is scarier than horses to him. That still means he doesn’t practice horse-riding at all, though.

-The constant stress he’s under has even caused his hair to start greying (stated in a QnA), although he dyes it maroon.

-This same stress is likely the reason he always seems to be in fight-or-flight mode. He keeps pretending like he wants to fight people, trying to intimidate them in some way to make himself appear tougher than he is, but always cowers when someone actually tries to take him up on the offer.

-This only gets worse after Levi, the only person Ace had begun to really trust in the killing game, threatens to kill him in the first trial. Ace makes the decision not to trust anyone in the game from that point, which causes him to become even more hostile to compensate for and hide his growing distress.

-Specifically, he begins severely bullying Nico, probably in part because he got Nico's secret and thought he could use that to have power over them. See, if there's one thing Ace really wants, it's control over his situation, seeing as most of his life he's been doing things he doesn't actually want to do. He sees bullying Nico and pushing everyone away as a way of achieving this.

-This ends up exploding when Nico tries to kill him in the gym. Because regardless of what exactly you believe happened there, Nico did admit to trying to take Ace's life. However, Ace's reaction is very different from what we would have expected from him in chapter 1. While before he would have been terrified of Nico and stayed away from them, like he originally did with Xander, now he went out of his way to try and attack Nico even while bleeding pretty profusely. Presumably he's still scared as all hell, but the idea is that by this point he doesn't want his fear to control his actions. He pushes through the fear, like he does while racing, to do what he actually wants to do.

-This is also presumably also why he keeps insulting Nico the day after, and why he returns to the gym (depending on the theory) the night after. He's done being controlled by fear, so he covers it up with as much aggression and petty defiance as he can.

CW Eating disorders

-His motive secret is "Your body is falling apart, but you still refuse to eat." As Veronika mentions, this is possibly because there are strict weight requirements for jockeys. It's also possible this is why his profile states he likes mint, since that can disguise the smell caused by the vomiting associated with certain eating disorders, such as bulimia.

CW Over

-I've implied it before, but his birthday possibly lands on Halloween because fear is a major part of his character.

-The roman numeral associated with him in the LGI MV is V (5), with the phrase "right now, why do you go insane?"

Presumably because he can act kinda crazy at times.

There are also two pieces of bg text.

A cat has 9 additional lives

Presumably because he almost died in the gym, so he has "multiple lives."

I am but mad north-northwest. When the wind is  southerly, I know a hawk from a hand saw.

This is a quote from Hamlet (big surprise, I know), where Hamlet claims he's only "mad north-northwest", or rather, only mad on ocassion. Hamlet claims to still have control of his faculties, being able to tell apart a hawk from a hand saw (another bird), a friend from an enemy. For Ace, that means that while he appears crazy at times, he still considers himself in control of hs faculties, still able to see that everyone around him is an enemy (<- he's wrong but he considers himself right).

For some more fun facts:

-The scar on his face comes from jockeying.

-Canonically gay. Unsurprisingly /j

-He likes mint, which is presumably why he smells of menthol... as well as sweat.

-He likes healthy food, and he likes wearing sporty clothes.

-His favorite colors are dark blue and purple, but he refuses to say why. His least favorite color is titian, which is the color of his hair, because he doesn't like himself.

-When asked for his favorite ice cream flavor, he says it's frozen bananas. Not ice cream, actual frozen bananas.

-Like most of the cast, he's right-handed and American.

-He has nine siblings and once had a friend named Taylor.

-He wears heels, as he wishes he was taller most of the time. However, when it comes to jockeying, he'd actually rather be shorter. My guy can't win.

Finally songs that remind me of him:

+Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost & Pals (CW for eating disorders. This song almost feels like it was written for him actually)

+Yesman by NILFRUITS (I think this is his character playlist song, but who knows)

+Reform by QueenPB

+Copycat by CircusP

+God-ish by PinnochioP

+Exorcism by CreepP (CW Abuse, this works with Ace when abstracted a bit)

+Lost One's Weeping by Neru.

+The Things I Deserve by Ghost & Pals (CW suicide)

+Self-Proclaimed Angel by VocaloKAT (this one's on vibes alone)

And Happy Birthday! Happy Halloween also! Take care!

[operationslipperypuppet]

i know you have a hardshine playlist, but top 5 hardshine songs 👀

ohh shit this is fun

here's my hardshine playlist as well if you want to check it out (they're probably all gonna be on here if i'm fucking honest)

If We Were Vampires - Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit [Maybe time running out is a gift/I'll work hard til the end of my shift/And give you every second I can find] This is like THE hardshine song, if we're honest with ourselves. The idea that you wish yourself immortal, so that the time you spend together could possibly be trivial? It's so perfect. And this song is something I really have enjoyed for years so adding hardshine context to it makes it that much better, for me.

Work Song - Hozier [No grave can hold my body down/I'll crawl home to her] I was conflicted for half a second what number 2 on this list would be and then I remembered this bitch. God fucking damn. Not only are the lyrics so true to them on like a wider level, but Hardwon has literally, time after time, attempted to overcome the impossible to save Moonshine. To get back to Moonshine. The bargaining with the death horseman, Jake begging Murph to let him give Moonshine one of his luck points. Attempting, as a man with -1 intelligence, to fix a teleporter that wasn't working just so he could save her. (also the mental backflips i did to not name any of my recent fics with lyrics from this song. still can't believe i won that struggle)

After the War - Branches [My home is in your arms] This one is big on loneliness, and the kind of crux of the two people meeting ending the loneliness. And I think that's at the heart of hardshine, right? That before they met, they were both lonely and alone, in their own distinct ways. And then Moonshine walked into the bar. And in an instant, Hardwon found the home he'd been yearning for, while Moonshine finally found someone who would take her culture at face value and never try to belittle it. It's why Twinkling Lights plays under Hardwon meeting Red and asking Moonshine to live at the Crick. One way or another, they are defined by finding that safety in one another.

Love Like This - Ben Rector [It's a million things about you and I don't know what it is/I have never known a love like this] One thing that makes hardshine so beautiful, to me, is the way that it's so drastically ill-defined. Not even in the way that they never tell each other their feelings in canon, but also like the way that Jake and Emily have talked about it and the myriad of different ways they've played it. They're best friends, they're soulmates, they're in love, they can't stand more than 20ft apart without feeling lost. I think if you sat the characters down they'd have such a hard time defining, truly, what they mean to each other. And the idea here of a love that defines you while you also don't know the true depth of it feels right for them to me.

Hello My Old Heart - The Oh Hellos [Oh, I don't wanna be alone/I wanna find a home/And I wanna share it with you] Obviously home is a theme in my picks, which I feel like I have mostly explained already. But this one really hits a C3 stride for me, because it's kind of talking about returning to feeling like your heart can accept someone. And I feel like there's an insane paradigm shift that happens for Hardwon, post-distress signal. He's opening up again. But his heart does already belong to someone, and he just has to find home with her once more and his heart will remain safe, with her.

Bonus #6 is The Twinkling Lights of Galaderon. For obvious reasons

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Shane Walsh x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warnings: swearing, minor violence, cheating

Chapter: 1.02

Shane snapped out of his trance, stepping towards you. He cupped your face gently before looking down at the baby in your arms.

“Lils…” he sighs.

“He’s ours, Shane. He’s our son.”

There was a quiet nervousness among the group, indicating that everyone was still processing what had just happened. Zombies, death,and a new life. You look at Shane to watch your brother trying to calm his son down. Feeling your eyes on her, Lori looks up at you and lets out a sharp intake of breath and claps her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she says, teary-eyed.

Sensing the change in his mom, Carl turns to see what she was staring at and notices you, “Aunt Lily.”

He runs to you and wraps his arms around your waist and sobs into your stomach. “Hey, munchkin,” you softly say. “I’m so glad you're okay.”

“I thought-I thought you and dad were dead.”

You run your hands through his hair, trying to comfort him while others start to grieve over the loss of their friends and loved ones. While your brother tries to help a blonde woman who keeps waving him off, Lori stays still with the same expression on her face, except this time she’s not looking at you. She’s looking at Shane.

—

Daytime came quickly, and when it did, plans needed to be made. The bodies needed to be dealt with, food rations needed to be sorted, shelters needed to be rebuilt, and an idea of where the group was heading would need to be decided. But after only being in the presence of most of these people for one night, you didn’t say anything; you didn’t want to overstep.

You had offered to help burn the dead, but both Rick and Shane told you to stay inside the RV with Jace. You understood they wanted to keep you safe, but you couldn’t sit and do nothing.

You stepped outside the RV curiously and watched as a man named Morales helped Daryl move the body of someone who’d been killed by a walker the night before towards a pile of bodies.

“What are you guys doing? This is for geeks. Our people go over there,” Glenn says, pointing towards a different spot distressed.

Daryl shrugs him off, “What's the difference? They're all infected.”

“Our people go in that row over there. We don't burn them! We bury them. Understand? Our people go in that row over there.”

Both men seem unconvinced. Glenn doesn't say anything further. He just picks up a shovel and starts to head in the direction he plans on digging.

You notice nobody goes to help him at that moment, and you turn to look at Glenn. “I’ll help you, just give me a moment.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Behind you, the door opens, and Lori steps out behind you with Carl by her side. “Can you watch Jace? I’ll be back shortly.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” she says, uncomfortable. It was confusing to you why your sister-in-law was refusing to make eye contact with you, but you were sure Shane had something to do with it.

You pick up a shovel and follow Glenn until Shane steps in front of you. He wasn’t happy with you because he snapped, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Someone needs to help dig holes for the dead.” His expression shifts from angry to stressed. You’ll know where to find me.”

—

You walk back into camp and throw the shovel down before taking Jace from Lori’s arms. You’d only been apart from him for less than an hour, but it felt like a lifetime. You kissed the side of his head before placing him back into his sling, while listening to the current conversation.

“I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it,” Daryl says bluntly, looking over at a man named Jim. You weren’t there to hear what had happened, but you assumed Jim had either been bitten or scratched judging by how the others were reacting.

“Is that what you'd want if it were you?” Shane asks.

“Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it.”

An older man named Dale shook his head, “I hate to say it... I never thought I would... But maybe Daryl's right.”

Your brother faces him with a look of disgust on his face and says, “Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog.”

Dale tries to take back what he was implying, “I'm not suggesting…”

“He's sick. A sick man When we start down that road, where do we draw the line?”

“The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be.”

“He's kinda right,” your brother says, turning to face you with a surprised expression. “Look, I don’t want anyone to die, but death seems like the kindest thing to do. It’s what I’d want if it was me.”

“What if we could get him help? I heard the CDC was working on a cure.”

Shane looks at Rick as if he’s grown a second head, “I heard that too. I heard a lot of things before the world went to hell.”

“What if the C.D.C. is still up and running?”

“Man, that is a stretch right there.”

You elbow Shane lightly, mentally telling him to cut it out. His shortness with Rick was starting to piss you off.

“Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the C.D.C. at all costs, wouldn't they?” Rick asks. “I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection…”

Shane lets out a frustrated sigh, “Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay? If they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning.”

“Isn’t that a hundred miles in the opposite direction?”

He nods, “It is. But it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there. Jace would be safe there.”

“The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We've all seen that. The C.D.C. is our best choice and Jim's only chance,” Rick says, holding Shane’s intense gaze.

“None of this matters right now, not while there’s a more pressing matter that needs to be dealt with first.”

“She’s right,” Daryl says in agreement. “Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!” Daryl picks up a pickaxe and storms towards Jim.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Rick points his gun at Daryl's head just as he lifts his arm, “We don't kill the living.”

“That's funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head.”

“We may disagree on some things, but not on this,” Shane says, trying to talk him down. “You put it down. Go on.”

Daryl puts the pickaxe down and storms off, mumbling under his breath, while Ricks helps the dying man stand, “Come with me.”

“Where are you taking me?” Jim asks, confused.

“Somewhere safe,” Rick says, walking Jim towards the RV.

—

You are walking with a bounce in your step, trying to stop Jace from fussing. The quarry wasn’t far from camp, and you insisted on walking ahead of the others, although they were still close enough to be in your line of vision. When you reach the newly dug gravesite, you can hear your brother and Shane talking.

“Say it.”

“Okay. I'm thinking if you'd stayed here, if you'd have looked after your own... Instead, you went off. You took half our manpower with you. I'm thinking maybe our losses wouldn't have been so bad.”

You're left speechless at how harsh Shane’s words are. It wasn’t Rick's fault that the dead attacked late at night when they were unprepared.

“If we hadn't gone off and brought those guns back when we did, I think our losses would have been a lot worse. Maybe the entire camp. Also, I wouldn’t have brought back my sister and your son.”

“That’s not fair. I thought Lily was dead and I had no idea she was pregnant,” Shane says defensively. “This isn’t about them, it’s about you leaving.”

Before they can continue, Daryl pulls up in the truck with the rest of the bodies in the back. He jumps out and immediately starts to moan, “I still think it's a mistake to not burn these bodies. It's what we said we'd do, right? Burn 'em all. Wasn't that the idea?”

“At first,” Shane replies, as his eyes land on you. He was no doubt wondering how much you heard.

You roll your eyes as Daryl continues. “The Chinaman gets all emotional and says it's not the thing to do. Can we just follow him along? These people need to know who the hell's in charge here, what the rules are.”

“There are no rules.”

“Well, that's a problem,” Lori says, standing beside you. “We haven't had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do.”

While Andrea says goodbye to her sister, who was killed by a walker the night before, you study everyone else’s faces. You tilt your head and look at Lori. Following her line of sight, you see Shane watching as he scratches at his chin nervously.

Shane meets your gaze and you instantly know the secret he’s been trying to hide by the guilt written on his face.

You feel your knees starting to go weak.

As your stomach drops, you take a deep breath and quietly excuse yourself and walk back to camp, pushing back tears. You weren’t going to let either of them see you cry.

—

You sit by the window in the RV while you finish feeding Jace, watching the others walk back into camp with a grim expression on their faces. Jim was sleeping in the back, occasionally talking to himself, but you were alone except for him.You allowed yourself to briefly cry, but you pulled yourself together. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. You needed to be strong for Jace, plus you didn’t know anything for certain, despite what your gut feeling was telling you.

You freeze when you notice Shane joining Lori at the doorway, while your brother is walking in their direction.

“I guess I'll just add it to the list of habits that I'm breaking whether I like it or not.”

“What habits?” Your brother asks

“Just his need for a plan,” you say, opening the door, giving all three of them a fright. “So what is it? Are we leaving or staying?”

Rick gently runs his fingers over Jace’s head, “We can't stay here, it’s not safe.”

“I was just telling Shane I think we should trust your gut,” Lori states.

You scoff at her words, earning a fearful look from your fiancé and a confused one from Rick.

Shane sighs, “Let's go do our sweep.”

“We need to talk before you leave,” you tell Rick, motioning for Shane to follow.

—

Shane follows you toward the edge of camp, which looks over a small field. You let out a deep breath, and turned to face him, and when you did, he immediately started to apologise.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he pleads, trying to reach for you, but is cut off when you shove him in the chest.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You hiss. “How could you do this to me?”

He flinched.

“You fucked her right?”

He gives you a pained look. His voice sounds weak as he says, “You have no idea how much I regret what happened.”

“Regret it? This isn’t some random girl at a bar you’ve slept with; it's your best friend's wife. My sister-in-law. Your family.”

“I know…”

“If me and Rick never came back, would you still be sleeping together?”

“No,” he answers quickly. “God no. It was a mistake. If I could do anything to change things, I would, but I can’t. We all make mistakes.”

You shake your head and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that nothing he said could fix this. “I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of and I’ve put you through a lot these past few years, but I’ve never once looked at a man.”

You groan into your hands, trying to take a moment to think. Sensing movement around you, you look down to see Shane crouching on the ground with his head in his hands, looking like a broken man. He looks up at you with tears in his eyes, “baby, Lily, please tell me how to fix this. All I want is to keep you, Jace, and Carl safe.”

You chew on your bottom lip trying to hold a sob back. You believe what he’s saying. You don’t doubt that he’d do anything to protect you, but why he would is a different thing. “Do you still love me?”

He looks hurt by the question, “How can you even ask that?”

“Because you had sex with someone else, how could I not?” your voice crackles. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Shane stands and cups your face so you are looking directly at him. “I love you. I’m in love with you. If I wasn't, I wouldn’t have stayed with you when you needed help, or spent every goddamn minute since the world went to hell grieving for you. I dragged all those people to Atlanta because I wanted to look for you, but when I heard the city was gone, I gave up. I assumed the worst, and for that I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. But the moment you walked into camp with Jace, nothing else mattered.” He kisses the back of your hand. “Can you forgive me?”

You blink away the fresh tears that are building up. With your vision becoming more clear, you can see the look of concern in his eyes as you struggle to find your voice again. He sighs, “If you keep doing that, your lip is going to bleed.”

You stop chewing on your lip and faintly taste blood. You can see your words are swaying heavily on him. “I will talk to Lori when I stop wanting to scratch her eyes out, but in the meantime, Rick can’t know. This would break him.” You gulp down, “I can try.”

A hopeful smile spreads across his face, “you will?”

“I will, but…” His face falls flat again. “You need to swear to me nothing else is going on between you and Lori, and you will always put Jace first.”

“I swear it on my life.”

—

When you walk back into the main camp area, you notice everyone standing in a group, “What’s going on?”

“I think they are waiting to find out what the plan is,” Shane answers quietly. “What do you want to do? We could always stay behind, just the three of us. We’d make it on our own.”

“I’m not leaving my brother.”

“Okay,” he reluctantly agrees with you and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. “I've been, uh, I've been thinking about Rick's plan. Look, there are no signs ofThere are no guarantees either way. I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man for a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is that we need to stay together. So those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning.”

Rick looks at him surprised. “Okay?”

As they continued talking, you tried to study Shane’s body language. He still radiated confidence, but that might have come from his years as a cop. You were taken aback by his suggestion that you could go it alone; the idea was insane. You’d never make it longer than a week, and you’d never leave without your family.

—

“Why can’t I ride with you and Shane?” Carl asks with a pout. He was bored listening to them talk about the logistics of things, but you knew Lori and Rick would be hurt if they knew he’d asked.

You ran your fingers through Carl's thick brown hair and sighed; you hated disappointing him. You knelt down so you were the same height, “because your dad needs someone to cheer him up, and you're the only one who can do it.”

He gently stroked Jace’s cheek, then went back to his mom.

Moments later, you got in the car with Shane, who drove off without saying a word. His mood had dramatically dropped since Morales and his wife, Miranda, decided to stay behind because they wanted to go and find their family.

You noticed your brother had left a note for the man who saved him, Morgan, on the side of one of the cars. You hoped Morgan and his son would be able to find your group soon.

“Why didn’t you want the kid to drive with us?” Shane asked, breaking the silence.

“He should be with his parents,” you answer while gazing out the window. “Besides, Carl would hate being stuck in when Jace wakes up. He’d get irritated by the crying.”

“The little man doesn’t cry much, which is lucky.”

“Yeah…”, spin back and look behind you, noticing the RV pulling over to stop. “Something is wrong.”

Shane abruptly stopped, “Stay in here with Jace.”

—

You waited inside the car with Jace, cooing softly as you fed him. Your eyes were occasionally scanning the area to make sure the dead weren’t lurking nearby. You just hoped the group made it to the CDC without any more hiccups, aside from the RV breaking down.

A few more moments passed by, and Shake rejoined you in the car with a devastated look on his face.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Jim... He’s asked us to leave him behind. So we did. Me and Rick just left him beside a tree for him to die alone.”

You squeezed his hand, “If it’s what Jim wanted, there was nothing else you could do.”

—

“Holy shit,” you say as you step out of the car and immediately zip up your jacket over your head to protect Jace from the bugs.

The outside of the CDC was nothing but a large graveyard covered with hundreds of rotting bodies and swarms of flies.

Shane placed his hand on your back and spoke quietly while he addressed the group. “All right, everybody. Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let's go. Okay, keep moving. Stay together.”

Somehow you all manage to make it to the building without waking the dead, but it’s all for naught as when you reach the building it’s locked up with metal shutters that won’t budge. Both you and Rick attempt to open it, but nothing happens.

“Nothing?” Shane pounds on the door.

You go to tell him to stop being so loud, but it’s too late.

“Walkers!” Daryl calls out before shooting one directly in the head with an arrow.

You reach for the knife on your belt, but your sudden moments frighten Jace, who’s strapped to your chest, causing him to let out a small whine.

Shit.

Daryl glared at your brother, “You led us into a graveyard!”

“He made a call.”

“It was the wrong damn call!” He snaps back.

You storm towards him, “Just shut up. You hear? Shut up. Shut up! Rick, this is a dead end. What do we do now? This place is going to be crawling with walkers soon.”

“She's right,” Lori says in agreement. “We can't be here this close to the city after dark.”

Noticing a walker coming up behind Glenn, you run for it and stab your knife into its skull. Glenn looks at you wide-eyed, “Thanks man.”

“We gotta go! Everyone back to their vehicles, they can at least give us shelter for now!”

While everyone started running towards the vehicles, you noticed not everyone was there. You look back towards the building to see Shane trying to talk to Rick, who was still trying to get inside. “Man, just listen to me. Look around this place. It's dead, okay? It's dead. You need to let it go, Rick.”

“I know you're in there. I know you can hear me.”

Rick continues to bang on the shutters, so you run back to him and help Shane pull him back. “We need to go now! The dead are coming!”

Rick ignores you and starts to beg while looking up at a security camera. “Please, we're desperate. Please help us. We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left.”

Shane wraps his arm around you, brother, and manages to pull him back, “Come on, buddy, let's go. Let's go.”

“Please help us. You're killing us! You're killing us! You're killing us!”

Suddenly, one of the shudders opens, revealing a bright light leading into a hallway. Rick was right; someone was inside the CDC.

[silverhandsamurai]

Fear • Lucy Kushinada/Fem!Reader

summary; you comfort lucy in a tender moment

warnings; slight minor spoilers

setting; lucy’s apartment

notes; lucy is my best girl ♥

-------------------------------------------------------

" How did Arasaka find you?!"

Lucy's panicked voice rang around the small apartment as she began to pace, her agitation growing. 

You knew this day would come; you could only run so far before the past caught up with you.

You grew up with Lucy in Arasaka's netrunner program, and you both managed to escape and avoid notice until now.

Your identity had been revealed to the megacorp after your most recent solo gig went badly.

They hadn't discovered Lucy yet, which you were thankful for because that meant they were just after you.

If they went looking for Lucy too, you wouldn't be able to bear it.

You didn’t want anything to happen to her.

You eyed Lucy as she ran her hands through her hair subconsciously. 

" Lulu...stop it you are going to make yourself sick."

The glare directed at you was full of emotion as the netrunner marched up to you.

"How can I stop worrying...! You and I both know -"

Having no more patience with her anxious words, you swept forward and locked her in a kiss, stifling her effortlessly. With your hands at her waist, you pulled her into an embrace as you lost yourself in the warmth of her touch. Suddenly affixed to your body, her deft delicate hands wove into your hair.

Your heart ached as you could feel the distress emanating from her, and you wanted to do everything in your power to ease her worries.

However, despite your strong facade you showed outwards in the back of your mind, you were also terrified...

Why was this world so cruel?

As if in a trance, you briefly parted from her after several breathless moments of temptation. Glancing over her form from a fraction of a distance, you tentatively inspected her. 

While the kiss eased a few of her anxieties, her gaze turned downcast, refusing to look at you directly her hands falling at her sides.

" Lulu...remember that promise we made as kids?"

In a flash, her iridescent eyes flickered up to lock you in a fixated stare tinged with turmoil and curiosity. With a weary smile, you slipped your grip from her waist to her trembling hands and clasped them tightly.

" We promised we would find the moon princess together and ask her to take us away with her to live in the stars..."

You whispered as your thumb slowly rubbed circular patterns across Lucy's hands. She tilted forward and rested her forehead against yours, giving a dry humorless laugh.

" I can't believe how stupid we were..."

" Remember we got the idea after we found that archaic Japanese folk tale during one of our netruns into the 'Krash."

Your lips curled into a small smile as you recalled nostalgic memories.

" What was it called again...?"

"The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter."

Lucy's instant response caused your eyes to widen, and you started to laugh softly.

" Ha, you answered that so quickly you really do remember."

"You were so unbearably giddy and wouldn't shut up about it for weeks."

Your laughing gradually diminished and gave way to the previous tension as the room sank into a somber silence.

" When we get to the moon, Lucy... we'll finally be free."

Suddenly Lucy pushed herself fully into you, causing you to sink to the floor, and she gave a faint cry that shattered the atmosphere.

" I can't lose you...I can't..."

Tears started to form and sting at the corners of your eyes as you gripped her slender frame.

" I don't want to be alone again..."

You couldn’t answer her the only thing you could do was bury your face farther into her shoulder as she sobbed helplessly next to you.

You couldn't utter another word of reassurance.

You couldn't lie to her.

There was no guarantee that either you would survive this dreadful metropolis.

-------------------------------------------------------

hope I made you cry some ♥ might do a part 2 if people want a continuation

[rolloollor]

Have you ever considered writing a omegaverse fic for mallerollo?

I definitely have. If the people want it, then I will probably oblige. The only issue is that when I write omegaverse stuff, it's... uncomfortable. Since I lean into the whole biology overriding someone's mind thing. Like neither side is in full control of themselves when a heat or rut or w/e happens, so they end up in situations they may not have wanted. Usually more on the omega's side.

My idea for a mallerollo omegaverse fic is...

If Rollo's an omega, you know he's meticulous about taking suppressants. Well, suppressants are less effective when an omega is exhausted or injured. When omegas are in this sort of distress, their heats are triggered more easily as a sort of failsafe. "I'm in trouble, if I had an alpha they would protect me" sorta thing. So, after the firelotuses and the bell tower struggle, Rollo's obviously beat up and exhausted from cleaning up all night and preparing for the masquerade all day.

Malleus dances with Rollo at the masquerade and notices he's an omega. Maybe he, as an alpha, instinctually realizes the distress = heat thing. He dances with Rollo as long as he can to trigger this. Either the heat starts on the dance floor (Rollo would extra hate this) or he pulls away and rushes off to his room. Malleus, of course, follows. Then they fuck and Malleus bites him, sealing the two of them together. Also he probably gets Rollo pregnant. In the moment, Rollo's super into it because he's more omega than Rollo, if that makes sense.

Anyway, the heat and bite fuck everything up. They can't be too far apart, so now Rollo has to either transfer out of NBC or drop out. Because glomas takes place around Halloween, Rollo has 7-8 months left of school......... so he'll be heavily pregnant by the end of the school year. Basically, he can go to NRC and let all those people know he's a weak omega who got himself tied to a man he hated within like a day or two of meeting him... or he and Malleus can both drop out of school and go to Briar Valley. I think Malleus would be okay with whichever, but obviously he's going to face scrutiny for biting a human omega and so on.

Plus I think, once bonded, they would have a lot more influence on the other. For example, if Rollo is pissed off, Malleus could soothe him a little and Rollo would, against his will, actually calm down. I guess at the core of this it's a "my body is betraying me" schtick.

Basically, it'd be about dealing with the consequences of this heat and trying to make the best out of an unexpected situation. Malleus having to woo Rollo after claiming him. These sorts of things

[bracketsoffear]

End: Bart Curlish (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency) "The Holistic Assassin, the Universe's Delete Key. Bart goes where the universe sends her, killing who needs to be killed in ways that range from the mundane to the hilariously macabre. Bullets miss her and end up killing her target, people flee from her and end up directly in the path of traffic… you get the idea. She represents the inevitable, and she always hits her target in the end."

Flesh: Justine (Raw) "Justine is newly enrolled in veterinary college and one of our first scenes with her is initiation ceremony where older students force newbies to do funny stuff like eating a raw rabbit's heart, taking pictures while sophomores dump buckets of blood on them, and then going to class without washing the blood off. Justine's mother forced her to be a vegetarian her whole life, but it all quickly falls apart when Justine gets away from her control and tastes meat for the first time. Raw rabbit's heart distressed her, of course, but it planted the seeds for obsession over meat, and not long after Justine can't think of anything else. She steals beef patties from the canteen, sneaks to the fridge at night and eats raw chicken breasts, and goes out of her way to eat more meat. She bites a guy's lip while making out so hard that he bleeds profusely. She eats her older sister's finger that they accidentally cut off. That same sister (she studies in this same college btw) causes a car accident and kills two people and then invites Justine to eat their raw warm still soft flesh, because as it turns out Justine is not the first one of her family to become a cannibal. Justine gets into a fight with her sister, they chew on each other a little bit. Justine eats her roommate (she doesn't cook him. She just gnaws on his thigh, smearing his blood all over the bed). She is not the first one to eat a guy, either - the ending reveals that her mother (yes, she went to this same veterinarian college) is eating her father - his back and chest are covered in scars from continuous gnawing. But its consensual so it's fine <3 love wins. I think Justine is a promising young avatar of the Flesh, she's got the cannibalism, the shots where she's covered in blood, the themes of blood and viscera (veterinarians deal with all sorts of gore. oh also there is a scene where they cut open dead dogs as a part of their studies and Justine performs brilliantly). Also (maybe a bit tangential to the Flesh but still) in her first weeks of college she develops a horrible rashes all over her body. There are a lot of scenes with her scratching herself until her skin is all turn and bloody. This is very Flesh-y visual-wise in my opinion. Also the mother tried to prevent both of her daughters from repeating her own fate by restricting their diets. That's Flesh-y!"

[did-system-did]

Long Thoughts

I feel like a ghost of who I used to be.

I thought the more effort I put into healing, processing, accepting, and integrating the less I would have to deal with the symptoms of DiD. The less I would have to worry about being different.

Somehow with age, its gotten harder. I thought it would be the opposite. I idealized a future where I could just be one, have a better memory, and retain information better. I wanted that future so badly. Maybe its still possible and I'm just prematurely discouraged, but it was so much easier B.D (before discovery).

Yeah, it was chaotic and embarrassing and all the things you can imagine from an unknowingly traumatized little girl. It was easier back then to just write off my behavior as being weird. I was just the weird, rambunctious, unpredictable little girl, pre-teen, teenager, young woman. And truthfully, I found comfort in the idea that everyone lived that way.

Leaving the emotional distress aspect out of it, I thought everyone had multiple voices and memory gaps and drastic identity changes and internal conflict with identity. So I just lived my life. I was more unstable, but I was significantly happier even through the manic/depressive episodes. It was easier to write it off as "this is just part of life!". My system worked for me.

Finding out that I'm separate from the internal family that raised me was terrifying, embarrassing, yet liberating. Terrifying because the voices I came to be familiar with weren't a norm like i thought, embarrassing because i realized the horrible, mean, weird, chaotic things i've done around people wasnt a dream but actually real life; and liberating because i spent years trying to understand the complex experience i was having and finally cracked the surface.

It was an intense discovery.

Months and a couple years later i was extremely motivated to get to the bottom of my disorder, come to terms with what happened to me, and grow as an individual. Being aware of switches was harder than being unaware, because the latter meant that those days or memories were processed as dreams or separate from reality so i have nothing to worry about. Now knowing that I'm being ripped out of my mind and body made me more erratic when it came to time and how i spent it. I wanted to prevent switches so i could live my life more.

Almost 4 years A.D, i feel... defeated. I have lived my life a certain way since childhood filled with switching, beautiful chaos, and recklessness. It was full of rambunctious people taking care of me, laughing with me, helping me with tests, saying jokes only we can hear, talking to me out loud while i wear headphones walking home from school, protecting me, and just making me feel like someone was there for me. Although it was a confusing time, i was happy. My system made me happy.

That's something i have never admit to anyone, not even my husband who is in full support and knowledge of my disorder. But growing up and until discovery, my system was one whom i, for the most part, could trust.

It's just harder now. When you're a kid theres more freedom for weird behavior, but at 24 years old i would be called crazy.

I'm not crazy, im traumatized. I'm severely torn apart and my brain led the otherwise impossible task of gluing me back together. I spent time in psych wards and crisis houses. I lived in my car and got fired from jobs. I struggle heavily because the way my brain formed itself to live isnt one that fits where i am anymore. And yet, I still need them to feel like myself.

Its painful to accept that because for so long I just wanted to be me. But I'm seeing now that its already been done. This is my brain. This isnt the type of disorder you can medicate away. My brain put itself together in this way to survive and the more i try to make my days quiet and free from my system, the sadder I've become.

This is my sign to take a different approach and be more accepting of the system who helped save my life.

It'll be hard, but i want to be happy.

[skintsugi]

i think about the gender idea of "all children transition, whether cis or not." and how i dont see myself as ever having been a little boy. i was a little girl. i was always been a little girl. but i am not a woman. i will never be a woman. i have never been one.

and its not "oh you liked traditionally feminine things and thats why." because as a girl i was a "tomboy." in the early 2000s, i like comic books and hot wheels and tmnt and transformers and football. i didnt want to wear skirts and dresses or pink. i liked barbies and dolls sure but i was rough and played rough. i was rough and wrestled and i was a little girl who was a little girl. who just liked "boy" things. and i questioned gender; i wanted to know why i didnt have a dick like my brother (bc shared baths were easier when youre basically a single parent with 2 kids less than 2 years apart)

and as a man, i wear skirts and dresses. i paint my nails and do my hair and wear makeup; i play with dolls still. i am read like a woman when im not purposeful with my masculinity. but im not a woman. i'm a man. i'm a (probably) gay man.

but when i look back at myself i don't see a little boy. i see a little girl who when her body started changing, when there became a distinction that this body she'd had and had become comfortable with was changing into something she did not like and did not want and did not feel at home in, thats when i transitioned. not societal pressures but a complete innate realisation of "im not a woman. i dont want to be seen as a woman."

children's concepts of gender are not so binary. for me, i knew my brother and i were different in slight ways but not in ways that made sense. why it was okay for me to like barbies but not him. why people didnt like that i liked bioncles and legos and robots. and then when the gap between the sexes widened, it was distressing.

i thought it was me — so my mom agreed to let me have electrolysis done. as gender affirmation because at 12, being told i needed to shave, feeling the body hair, i was in distressed. i didnt want the body hair. i wanted to go back to how i had been — the clean andronynous look of youth. and it failed to fix the feelings of alienation. no longer was i different in ways that i couldn't conceptualise, that seemed arbitrary. but i was different in ways that did not feel right; housed in flesh that wasnt my own. i was in a body that felt abstract and wrong and like flesh pulled too taut. and when it seemed i alone felt that, that i was wired different, i dressed up. i put on costumes like i did when i was a child. i played pretend as a boy and found that when people said "sir" or "he" or "young man" that the skin no longer felt so tight.

my skin felt more like my own for the first time; and my body has not changed drastically. i have big tits. big hips. i don't take any hormonal injections; i have a feminine voice and the only body hair that really grew back was my armpits and it takes a long time if i shave it off. it would be distressing now to undergo such a drastic change, to change this skin into something more resembling what a man "should" look like.

but i was never a little boy.

and i will never be a woman.

[toa-arania]

Since she's my current blorbo hyperfixation I've decided I'm going to talk more about my Star Trek oc, Allira. I've made a couple art posts about her already but I was sort of vague in them so this is where I'm going to talk about her :)

I've already given the vague idea in the previous posts, but to go over it again: Ensign Allira is a Vorta who defected from the Dominion shortly after the end of the Dominion War. She's currently on her third clone, with the first having been terminated while researching the morphogenic virus (remember that time the founders ordered all the doctors be executed and activate their clones? Allira 1 was one of them), and the second being terminated for recklessness and a dash of insubordination. After that, Allira 3 pretty quickly got the fuck out of dodge, stealing a ship and dropping off her Jem'Hadar to starve somewhere.

After about a year fucking about in the Alpha Quadrant, doing some soul searching and otherwise figuring out what the fuck to do with herself, she decided that her best bet was to take her medical expertise to Starfleet and pray. Fast forward a few years, and here she is as a junior-grade Ensign, freshly out of the academy and horribly paranoid that everyone hates her.

Her first posting is to the steamrunner-class Dover, a patrol ship that spends her first two weeks on the job docked at Deep Space Nine for repairs. She doesn't take this especially well. She uses the time to do what she can to get to know her new roommate, Ensign (senior-grade) Rāphen Calos, a command-track prodigy- Red Squad and everything- that Section 31 seem rather taken with. Not that either of them know that, of course. Raph is a friend's oc that afaik they haven't written about anywhere but that they have posted about here and here. (They also posted about Allira here)

Raph and Allira have had a... rocky friendship. They're trying, but they're both incredibly bad at it. However, over their first few months working together they did manage to cultivate a friendship and start opening up to each other better, helping each other to relax a little and not get killed by accidentally antagonising people. Then they got sent on a mission together to one of Bajor's moons to investigate a distress signal from a mining colony.

Split off from the rest of their crew, who at that point were investigating a distress signal from a ship that just left that colony, they found themselves alone in the dark, empty corridors. Allira, confident that she'd be able to withstand whatever airborne toxins there might be there, took her respirator off to better know what they were dealing with (I like flavouring the Vorta's resistance to poisons so that they can also taste and smell them more distinctly). This turned out to be a mistake when she started hearing voices, and Raph noticed her eye starting to turn black. Just as they started panicking, an assimilated mining drone showed up to start threatening them.

Now Allira doesn't respond well to threats. When threatened with termination by the borg, her response was not to comply. Her response was to threaten to terminate herself first so they'd lose their bargaining chip, which she only doubled down on when it turned out the borg specifically needed her medical training. In response, the borg cut Raph's arm off to force her to come to the medical bay anyway.

Details time- these borg were relegated to using airborne nanoprobes because there was an error in their code that caused the assimilation to fail and just tear apart the bodies of those they tried to assimilate. Raph and Allira (and the crew of the Dover) still don't actually know what the borg were doing this far from the Delta Quadrant. Going back a bit, recall that Allira is in the middle of being assimilated.

Once Raph was stable, they made a break for it and got to a ward where Allira could irradiate herself to disable the nanoprobes. As soon as the borg noticed, they sped up the assimilation to try to kill her. Rather than let herself be assimilated, Allira tried to activate her termination implant, which was too damaged by the assimilation to work. The irradiation started, and both of them blacked out.

Two weeks later, Allira woke up in a sick bay with injuries to the entire left side of her body, including throat injuries severe enough that she couldn't speak. While recovering from her injuries and with remnants of the collective now fading from her mind, she and Raph have been given some lovely medical leave on Bajor so they can finally have some time off to relax and completely fail to healthily process how gay they are for each other (Raph refuses to open up or wind down and Allira is horribly paranoid about everyone around her, it's such a disaster of a combination)

[nightinghoul]

Talkin' About Poop

(CN: Hashimoto's disease, chronic dehydration, mental health, suicidal ideation and yes, poop. Mostly poop.)

Why have I decided to talk about poop today? I think it's something we need to destigmatize, so that people can ask for help, and spread knowledge for the benefit of others.

As a bit of an aside, I always find it funny when the young'ns make fun of Activia commercials. You don't think you'll be talking about your poop with your middle-aged friends/family some day? HAHAHA! Almost everyone in my life has some sort of borderline traumatizing poop issue.

Here's mine: People with Hashimotos are chronically dehydrated, which causes chronic constipation. (I feel I like I should address that really severe constipation can lead to a medical emergency, but I'm not talking about that today.) Constipation can be ridiculously uncomfortable and often pretty damn painful, but here's something else I learned recently: It can cause anxiety!

I found an article from Pubmed Central (through the US National Library of Medicine) stating, "...the prevalence of mood and anxiety disorders in constipated patients is much higher than general population..." I looked that up on a hunch. The hunch was that last night, after a week of taking mega doses of laxatives with no results, I started spiraling into anxiety and depression, thinking everyone hated me, and experiencing passive suicidal ideation. Then I pooped.

I didn't have any idea the two were related, but being physically comfortable without respite for a while can certainly have a negative impact on your mental health. And then there's this:

"...A person's stomach or intestinal distress can be the cause or the product of anxiety, stress, or depression." (Harvard Medical Publishing) So yeah, it's kind of a which-came-first situation. Anxiety certainly doesn't make it any better for me.

I was so unfamiliar with being healthy when I was younger, I didn't even talk to doctors about my gastric issues for years. I only talked to them about my most outwardly noticable symptoms, which at the time was that I was having migraine related seizures that I couldn't hide. It didn't even occur to me that ALL systems need to be working for the body to function properly. We have this basic understanding with vehicles, but we don't do this for ourselves. We wait until we're falling apart, when we know we've had a pain, something feeling off, or, ya know, weird poop for a month.

A lot of us in the US feel trapped because there's just not an emphasis on healthcare in our society. Sometimes, our only option is to crowdsource for health solutions. I think that sucks, but if that's what you're doing right now, here's *my advice for healthy poops:

1. Eat your ruffage (leafy greens, lettuce, cabbage, kale, brussel sprouts, etc.)

2. Look for fiber content in food or suppliments. Here's a guide to healthy amounts of fiber. (It's the first one that popped up when I googled it.)

3. For the love of God, drink lots of water. Myself, I drink a minimum of 64oz of water a day, in addition to any fluids I may get through foods. But really, I drink way more than that.

4. Consider the possibility that certain foods may be related to your discomfort. You might try eliminating certain foods for a couple of weeks to see how it makes you feel.

5. De-stress - whatever that means to you. Your mental state can absolutely affect your gut.

*I am not a medical professional! I just have gut issues. If you can talk to a doctor, I highly recommend that. Never withhold important health information from your doctor, even if it's a bit embarrassing!

Get your poops healthy!

[elijahkelly]

2/12/2023

3:04am. I'm laying here trying to sleep but my brain won't shut off. Didn't take melatonin tonight so my body is probably struggling to put itself to sleep without help.

Had a moment where I did not feel safe. Small panic attack, I was feeling very distressed, like I was in danger. It was very reminiscent of the feeling I associated with laying in bed in one of mom's old apartments late at night, Scooby Doo playing on the tv, and all of a sudden the room got really bright as a truck pulled up and parked, it's headlights shining right through the window. I felt very unsafe then, and I felt that way tonight.

Going home tomorrow. Or today, I guess. Haven't been home since my sister, brother in law, niece, two nephews, and their dog moved out of my dad's house. I have to go fill out a thing so my dad can file my taxes, Dylan needs to get his new car tags from his parents, and I want to go see my sister's new house.

My mind has been coming back to how much things have changed a lot recently. Thinking about how I used to see my family almost every day, now I'm lucky if I see them more than once a month. I used to work cleaning the gym back at home, now I'm a part-time manager of a sub-division of my department, part-time drag queen who has almost completed their bachelors in Psychology. So many people I used to know are like strangers to me, and I've met so many amazing new people. Like Osvaldo.

Ozzy is very important in my life right now. He helps to distinguish the relationships the "old me" formed from the relationships the "new me" has formed. He's quickly become one of my best friends. We talk about everything, hang out a lot, and poke fun at each other all the time. He reminds me that I do bring something to the table that gives me value enough to keep around. He's my favorite person that I've met since I started college. He helps me retain my childhood through interests we share, while also helping me to grow up. We smoked weed together recently, and it was my first time smoking real weed before. I got to do it with him and it was a real bonding moment.

In case you haven't noticed, if anyone's reading this, I kinda just let my mind wander and say what it wants to.

I need to talk about the future, because I'm scared of it and I need to rationalize it. Starting with school. I have less than three semesters of college left, and I have hardly a clue what I want to do after that. I've played with the idea of grad school, getting my masters so I don't have to have a space between. If I can get all of my school business out of the way, that'd be ideal. But what about a job? I don't know what I want to do or how I'm going to do it, which is horrifying. And I'm running out of time. Dylan's going through a similar thought process at the moment.

It feels like Dylan and I are in a weird space right now. Our relationship feels "gray," and that's the best way I can describe it. I love him, I know that I do, but I think I'm getting bored. I love him to death, and I don't want to lose him, but I feel constrained. I never had a real dating phase of my life. Yeah, relationships would come and go, but before Dylan I had never been in a relationship for more than a month. Now we've just passed two years and I'm so happy for that. But, in all honesty, a small part of me feels kinda robbed of the experience of dating in college, figuring things out, adventuring. He's my only sexual partner I've ever had, so I don't know if the sex we're having is good or if there's something I'm missing. I pined for him the first four years I knew him, so it's essentially like we've been dating for six years. And maybe it's supposed to feel this way, but it feels like we've hit a slump. Nothing really interesting is going on. Idk, I'm not sure if I'm experiencing a normal part of relationships or what, but I know for certain that I don't want Dylan to go anywhere.

I feel an intense feeling inside that something tragic is going to happen to me. I have had this feeling for a long time. Part of me believes I'm going to get cancer. Another part of me sees a potential future where I die relatively soon, like in the next few years. Yes, I know that's possible for everyone, but something in my head says that it'll definitely happen to me. I've thought about it so much that I now feel a combination of fear and calmness about it. Not like I've accepted my fate, but it has motivated me to live my life purposefully and not get too wrapped up in silly things that don't matter. I've made it a goal to have fun, enjoy my time on earth while I have it, and live one day at a time. But there's still that feeling...

I don't know why but I feel overdue for tragedy. Every couple months or so, something devastating happens to throw a wrench in the works. Back in November, we had to put down my childhood dog, Jet. We had him since I was five (15 years) and it was like losing my best friend. But that was four months ago, so it feels like something new and awful could happen at any moment. Not that I want it to, of course, but if we're following the trend of my life, something new should've happened by now to ruin my life.

Anyways, I feel like I've talked my brain down to potentially get some sleep. I hope so, because I have a lot of driving ahead of me tomorrow.

Thank you for reading this, whoever you are. If you're me from the future, I hope you're well. I hope the bad things I expect to happen have the grace to hold off, for your sake (and mine). If you aren't me, I wonder how you found this. I don't plan to disclose the existence of these posts to anyone until the absolute last possible moment so there's something to look back on and peek into my conscience throughout my life. So if you aren't me and you're reading this, did something happen to me? And if you're someone who knows/knew and loves/loved me, thank you. The people who I value most in my life are the source of my vitality and drive. If I was alone, I probably would've ended it a long long time ago. But hopefully I leave a good impact on the people in my life for the rest of the time I have. I'm getting caught up in my head again.

I'm tired as fuck, I hope it isn't hard to fall asleep. Goodnight.

[femsolid]

A few years ago, I gave a presentation on self-objectification to a room full of psychologists. I was discussing how self-objectification leads to high levels of body shame in women and what we might do to reduce it. A colleague interrupted me with a question. “Wait,” he said, “isn’t it maybe good that women feel shame about their bodies? Maybe you should feel bad if you gain weight. It could keep you from gaining weight.” I’ve heard some variant of that question many times since that day, though rarely so politely. Recently I received a slew of angry emails in response to a New York Times op-ed I wrote. My basic arguments were that fat talk and body shaming aren’t good for women, and that we’re wrong when we assume that body shaming motivates healthy behaviors. The authors of these rant-filled emails (all men) took me to task for suggesting that body shame was a bad idea. They proposed that shame is a necessary antidote to the obesity epidemic. One went so far as to tell me that french women are all slim (not true, by the way) because french culture so effectively shames fat women. Another suggested that the very future of our country depended on women continuing to feel shame about their bodies. By suggesting that women shouldn’t have to feel bad about themselves all the time, I was literally putting our country at risk!

Let’s start by taking apart the idea that body shame provides a pathway to the ultrathin body ideal for women. Of all the research conducted on obesity, there is not one drop of evidence that fat shaming helps to move people toward thinness. In fact, the opposite is true. A research study in the Journal of Health Psychology showed that the more young women receive negative comments about their weight, the less likely they are to exercise. In a different study of over five thousand adults across the United States, results demonstrated that experiencing weight stigmatization and discrimination is associated with an increased likelihood of overeating and more frequent consumption of convenience foods.

When we’re in emotional distress, we will usually take action to try to make ourselves feel better, even if that means trading a short-term mood boost for less appealing long-term consequences. Feeling better may come in the form of a pint of ice cream or a bag of chips that relieves your emotional distress temporarily, but triggers a spiral of shame. You felt bad about your body, so you ate something to feel better, and now you feel even worse about your body. This is one of the routes through which experiencing weight stigmatization can lead directly to binge eating.

You absolutely do not need to have visible ribs, a thigh gap, or a perfectly flat stomach in order to be healthy. You’re kidding yourself if you think you can always tell by looking whether someone is healthy. In a study of over 5,000 adults led by the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, researchers came to a stark conclusion: in the United States there are many “normalweight” people (around 24 percent) who show poor cardiovascular and metabolic health, and there are many obese individuals (around 32 percent) who are metabolically healthy. Thanks in part to the pervasive nature of our beauty-sick culture, much of the purported emphasis on “health” is often a thinly veiled concern about aesthetics. The research above makes it clear that you can’t tell whether someone is healthy just based on their body weight, but even if you could, quite frankly, that’s no excuse to treat anyone badly. “Health” should never be a prerequisite for being loved or being treated with dignity and respect. Women who don’t meet our culture’s rigid beauty ideals don’t owe the world some demonstration of their metabolic rate or cardiovascular fitness in order to be treated well or to prove that they’re “just as good as thin women.”

You can see why I felt so incredulous when I received emails from strangers arguing that we need more fat shaming in this culture. Both weight-based discrimination and obesity have continued to increase over time—there’s no sign that one stops the other. I’m deeply skeptical of those who claim they’re trying to “help” women by shaming them for their body size or shape, or those who say they fat-shame because they are worried about women’s health. Don’t imagine for a moment that any woman in this culture who struggles with weight is under any illusions about what her body looks like compared to the ideal. There is never a need to point out this gap. You are not doing her a favor. She already knows, trust me. Given the rampant fat shaming in this country, how could anyone imagine that obesity is a result of the fact that we simply don’t make people who are fat feel bad enough about themselves? Please. Cruelty is not a health intervention. It’s nothing more than a misguided, self-righteous attempt to boost one’s own self-esteem.

Here’s what I have to say to everyone who seems to believe that we should encourage women to feel body shame in order to promote weight loss. Even if you’re not convinced by all the empirical data reviewed above, why would you ever want to employ a health intervention focused not on caring for one’s body and treating it well, but rather based on loathing your body? Why would you want women to hate such an intimate and important part of themselves? What we need instead is to feel so at home and comfortable in our bodies that taking care of them feels natural and automatic. You don’t take care of things you hate.

- Beauty Sick, Renee Engeln

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Leading Lady | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi friends! This is loosely based on something that happened to me back in my theatre days, but I didn't have a Bucky to take care of me. This is some hurt / comfort shit bc that is truly my fave.

If you like what you read, throw me a reblog so that others can find my stuff. 🥰

Warnings: blood, reader injury, stitches, hurt/comfort ♥️

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Bucky slid into the seat you’d picked out for him and sent you a quick text before shutting off his phone:

“Break a leg, baby. I love you. :)”

He was over the moon to see his best girl perform for the first time, having missed every other production of yours because of official Avengers business. Making opening night for this play was extremely important to him, to the point that he’d asked Fury to take him off the shortlist as the lead for an important mission. He couldn’t miss yet another one of your productions, especially not when you were always so supportive of him.

He fidgeted in his seat, craning his neck against the tie that encircled his throat. He was nervous- why was he nervous? His fingers thrummed against the bouquet of flowers that rested in his lap as he scanned the packed theatre, his eyes widening at the sheer amount of people filling the space. How you could perform live in front of audiences this big was a mystery to him. You’d described the theater as “kinda small” holding “only six hundred people”, which baffled him- he’d be uncomfortable on stage in front of six people, let alone six hundred.

The lights dimmed and the audience hushed as the curtain began to rise, signaling the start of the show. Bucky’s lips pulled into an instant smile as he watched your stunning form take the stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. The stage lights made your eyes shine and your skin glow, sending Bucky’s heart leaping into his throat. He had no idea what this play was about, seeing as you refused to tell him anything for fear of spoiling the story, but he didn’t care about the plot. He was just happy to see you doing what you loved.

Bucky watched you struggle with all your strength as you fought against the actor playing your husband. His grip on you was unrelenting, his strong hands digging into your arms with unshakable force. Bucky felt his heart splinter and crack as he watched you breakdown into sobs under the fierce hold of your asshole husband. Everything inside him screamed at him to storm the stage and save you, his instincts completely unaware that you were only acting. But seeing you in such a state of distress and danger tore him apart.

The curtain suddenly fell as your husband dragged you offstage, indicating the end of act one. Bucky finally exhaled, unaware that he’d been holding his breath for almost the entirety of the last scene.

“Wow, she’s really good…” Bucky heard someone whisper a few seats down, his heart swelling with pride. They were right, you were good- great, actually. He couldn’t believe someone so talented was okay settling down with someone like him, but he was thankful that you were. All he wanted to do was spend the rest of the night gushing over how brilliant your performance was. He wanted to spend hours complimenting you, praising you, in the way you deserved.

Act two started with the scene you’d been stressing over for weeks, and Bucky’s mouth fell open as you absolutely nailed it. Your emotional vulnerability, power, and unflinching commitment to the role had the audience completely mesmerized. The way you took control of everyone in the room, holding their attention and making them feel what you were feeling was unlike anything Bucky had ever seen. You held such power, such force as you owned the stage, and Bucky was simply in awe.

He didn’t know how the story was going to end, and found himself on the edge of his seat as the final scene began. He watched in horror as your character’s husband threw you to the ground, the solid thud of your body hitting the stage making Bucky wince. Slowly, you stood up. You gathered the strength to push back against your husband, refusing to be torn down by him any longer. After one last violent and ultimately futile attempt to reclaim you, your husband stalked off stage screaming, his hands curled into tight fists.

One final monologue remained, and Bucky couldn’t wait to watch you bring the house down. It was then that a bright red spot caught his attention. A river of red danced down the length of your neck, staining your costume with an ever-growing patch of scarlet. Bloody, sticky ooze trickled down your hands and forearms as you wiped at the trail of blood, smearing it across your skin and soaking into your dress. How make up and special effects could achieve such a powerful image as you gave your final monologue blew Bucky’s mind. His heart broke for you as you stood alone, bleeding, and baring your soul to everyone in the room.

Your final words left him shaken. Tears stung his eyes as he watched the curtain fall; he couldn’t believe you were real, that you were his. The audience erupted into a standing ovation, and Bucky knew it was all for you. Booming, thunderous applause filled the space and the curtain opened one last time, allowing for the actors to take their bows. As the lead, you were slated to come out last, but when you finally took the stage, Bucky’s heart stopped.

A blood-stained towel rested under your chin, your hand holding it firmly in place as you bowed. A storm of hoots and hollers bounced off the walls as the audience showed their love for you, bringing a smile to your scarlet-stained face. With the curtains closed for the final time, Bucky’s mind raced. He had been certain that you were simply covered in stage blood, but an eerie uneasiness gripped him by the throat- he knew something was wrong. He turned on his phone and tried to make a quick escape, but it seemed as if everyone in his row was determined to slow him down.

A text from you asking him to meet you backstage sent his heart racing. Bucky made his way outside to the stage door and provided his name to the security guard like you told him, his anxious grip on your flowers making them wilt. He was granted access to the backstage area and followed the signs to the dressing rooms, finding himself frozen as he stood outside the door.

A bloody handprint sat smeared across the door handle of the women’s dressing room, making his heart lurch. Surely, that was stage blood, right? It had to be. It was the stuff you bought by the gallon at Party City every October to scare the nieghborhood kids- nothing more. As he raised his fist to knock, the door flew open and revealed you, his best girl, covered in blood.

Your bloody costume lay draped over the crook of your arm as you continued to hold the towel to your face. Bloody tracks ran down your neck and arms, staining your skin with red rivers.

“Hey, Buck, did you like-”

Bucky took a step forward, his eyes wild with concern. It wasn’t stage blood that stained your fingernails and dripped down your chest- no, it belonged to you. Bucky was beside himself with worry, “I don’t understand- I thought all the fights were supposed to be fake…”

“They are, but the guy playing my husband, Lucas- he came at me way too hard for that final scene”.

Bucky shook his head. He knew as much about theatre as he did about the past eighty years of his life- almost nothing.

“He’s supposed to do things a very specific way so that he won’t hurt me, but…” you shook your head. With your free hand, you lifted your sleeve, showing Bucky the dark purple bruises that bloomed under your skin.

“He thinks that safety precautions like that ‘hinder his performance’. He just does things however he wants- these are from him dragging me off stage in rehearsal”.

Bucky’s heart stopped. He let his cold hand ghost lightly over the bruises, noting how they looked exactly like fingerprints, “why didn’t you tell me?” But he knew the answer. He’d been gone on back to back to back missions, barely spending any time with you over the last month or so. And when the two of you did get to see each other, he was so exhausted that all he could do was sleep and eat.

Rage took hold of Bucky. His body vibrated with a white-hot anger that blurred his vision and tightened his chest. He wanted to find this Lucas douchebag and rip him apart, but he had more important things to worry about.

“Let me have a look, baby”, he gently pulled the towel from your chin, examining the stream of blood that still cascaded from your wound. The deep, angry gash greeted Bucky and made him wince as it gushed blood with no signs of stopping.

“Oh, sweetheart, your chin is completely split open- you need stitches”. He replaced the towel quickly, pressing firm against the wound to stem the bleeding.

“That asshole- he’s not actually supposed to fucking throw me like that...” you huffed, “he’s just supposed to push me, and I’m the one who makes it look like I’ve been thrown".

Bucky begged you to let him take you to the ER, but you couldn’t leave just yet. The wardrobe crew needed your dress immediately in the hopes that they could salvage it before tomorrow’s performance. With a promise to be quick, you told him to wait there while you dealt with the bloody garment. He leaned against the wall, giving awkward nods to lighting technicians and dressers as they passed.

A sharp tension pulled Bucky’s shoulders taught as he watched the actor who hurt you, Lucas, stroll casually down the hallway. You were injured and bloody, but the asshole didn’t seem to give a shit. A smug grin stretched across his face as he called out to Bucky, attempting to banish him from the backstage area.

“Hey man, you can’t be back here,” he stared at Bucky with a cocky smirk, “you have to wait at the stage door”.

Bucky was on him in seconds, gripping him by the shirt and pushing him against the wall.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he stared expectantly at Lucas, watching the overly confident man shrink just a little. He opened his mouth, but Bucky didn’t let him speak.

“I’m gonna make you a promise right now- if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll ruin your fucking life and then end it real fucking quick”. He reveled in the fear splashed across Lucas’s face. “You’re not gonna hurt her again. You’re not gonna touch her like that, or you’ll have me to deal with. Understand?”

Lucas’s mind was blank, save for the nightmare-inducing fear. He threw Bucky a quick nod and felt his heart beating out of his chest as Bucky stared him down. When the strong vibranium hand that held him in place finally relented, he scurried away, looking back over his shoulder every few feet. Just as he rounded the corner and disappeared from Bucky’s sight, you returned. You clocked the darkness in Bucky’s eyes instantly. It was a cold, almost frightening expression that you’d only seen once before after a particularly bad mission.

But the icy stare melted as soon as he saw you. “Let’s get you outta here, okay?” he took your bag from your shoulder and slung it over his own, ushering you down the hall with an arm around your waist. But you stopped.

“Um… are those for me?” you glanced down, pointing at the sad purple tulips that had fallen to the floor. Bucky cringed. He’d spent almost an hour at the store, mulling over what kind of flowers to get you. Roses seemed like the most romantic, but purple was your ultimate favorite color. He picked up the wilted flowers and nodded, handing them to you unceremoniously.

“Yeah… I’m sorry- I guess I dropped them when I was, um, talking to Lucas…”

Your eyes narrowed. Bucky promised he was done with that sort of thing, only exercising his strength when absolutely necessary- but Lucas deserved it.

“I love them”, you pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, “thank you, Buck”. He couldn’t fight the smile that stretched across his face. Part of him thought you might’ve been angry with him for scaring Lucas within an inch of his life, but you just cradled your wilted flowers with a smile on your face. Bucky escorted you quickly down the hall and out the stage door, past the audience members trying to shove their playbills in your face for an autograph.

He got you safely to his car and settled inside before rounding the vehicle and sliding into the driver’s seat. “I loved the show”, he murmured at a stoplight, “really loved it. You’re just… You’re amazing, baby. I don’t want you to think I didn’t like it, I just got distracted.” He pressed a kiss to your free hand, “I saw you bleeding and couldn’t think about anything else”.

But he didn’t have to explain. You knew that your safety and well-being was always Bucky’s number one focus, regardless of the situation. “And I can’t believe you still got through the rest of that scene and your monologue while bleeding like that- that’s commitment”. He secretly wished you sought help immediately upon your injury, but knew you couldn't just run off stage.

You thought back on the moment you hit the floor- it had only fueled your performance, filling you with a deep seeded hatred for your stage-husband.

“I didn’t know I was bleeding till I got halfway through my monologue…”

Bucky’s eyes widened. He stared at you in disbelief, thinking back on the blood that gushed down your neck as you delivered your final lines.

“I was in the moment! The adrenaline kinda keeps you from feeling that sort of thing- and then the blood just made my monologue mean more, you know? And it didn’t even start to hurt till after the curtain went down.”

Bucky knew the effects of adrenaline all too well. It’s what kept him fighting each mission, regardless of the bleeding gunshot wounds and sharp blades that sliced through his skin. His fingers thrummed anxiously against the steering wheel. All he wanted was to get you stitched up and take you home for a hot shower and some well-deserved rest. He knew you were fine; it would take three stitches at most to close the wound, but he worried nonetheless. Watching helplessly as your blood spilled with no signs of stopping was something Bucky never wanted to experience again.

He held your hand as the doctor from the urgent care clinic cleaned your wound and closed it up. He hated seeing you in pain, and wished he could take every ounce of discomfort from your body. The doctor worked swiftly, administering exactly three stitches to close up the bloody gash. With pain killers in hand, Bucky escorted you from the clinic with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

Bucky’s protective instincts were going to be in overdrive for the next few days following Lucas’s stunt, but you weren’t going to complain. It made you feel safe, special, loved. Having him by your side 24/7 sounded better than any prescription pain medication out there.

Upon returning home, Bucky got you into a hot shower. The water ran red as you rinsed the dry blood from your skin, turning your tub into a ghastly murder scene. A deep throbbing pulsed behind your stitches and pain eclipsed your every thought as you scrubbed the sticky scarlet trails from your body. It was everywhere- all over your neck and under your nails, smeared down your arms and into your cleavage. With your skin finally free from the carnage, you stepped out of the shower and slipped into one of Bucky’s shirts.

“You hungry?” Bucky popped his head into the bathroom, “I made you a grilled cheese”. A huge smile stretched across your cheeks- he knew you too well. “I figured you were probably starving, and you need to eat something before you take any of those pain pills”. Your lips met his in a careful kiss, Bucky keeping things more chaste than usual. He wished he could spend the rest of the night devouring you, showing you just how amazing you really were- but it would have to wait. He couldn’t let himself lose control and risk ripping your stitches.

He watched with a smile as you greedily ate your food, calling it “the best grilled cheese in the entire universe”. With a large swig of water, you swallowed your pain pill and warned Bucky that you were about to get “loopy as fuck”. He kissed your forehead and both your cheeks before letting his lips brush gently over yours. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” he helped you from the couch and guided you to the bedroom, watching you like a hawk for any signs of “loopy” behavior.

“I can’t tell you how impressed I was tonight…” Bucky said after he got you settled, “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweetheart- you have no idea.” An intense warmth turned your cheeks bright pink. Bucky was an actual, real-life superhero, and he was impressed by you. All you wanted to do was stay up with him all night, talking and kissing and reveling in his warmth- but your pain meds wanted you to sleep. He clocked your heavy eyelids and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “get some rest, sweets, you deserve it. We can talk tomorrow”.

With a big yawn, you curled into Bucky’s body, resting your cheek against his warm, scarred chest. “I love you Buck, so so much,” you slurred, “thank you for coming to my show. It means so much to me”. Bucky whispered an “I love you more” and switched off the lamp next to the bed. He listened to your rhythmic breathing and felt some of his anxiety recede knowing that you were getting the rest you needed.

But Bucky couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about you- the way you looked on stage, your commanding presence holding everyone’s attention. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He couldn’t wait to surprise you with fresh flowers at tomorrow’s performance - and every performance after that. He had a secret stockpile of tickets sitting in his bedside table, one for each night of the run. He wasn’t going to miss another performance of yours, not ever.

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