#but for lack of a better way of phrasing it

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Twenty Six: The File, or Secrets, Sparring, and Escapes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, eventual smut, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, implied abuse MINORS DNI. A/N: Hello, lovelies! CW for heavily implied abuse in this chapter, so please read with care. I'm never going to explicitly state what Cleo went through in her childhood, and that's for a reason that's very important to me. I'm not here to write trauma porn (for lack of a better phrase) - I'm here to write a story about two people figuring out how to live with the things they've been through. We don't need to know exactly what happened to Cleo to be able to understand that story, we just need to know she's been through something major. I don't want the details to become the focus, so you can fill in the blanks in whatever way makes most sense to you. As always, thanks for reading, commenting, liking, following, reblogging, etc. - I love you all <3

Summary: Cleo's secrets are finally revealed, leaving her and Bucky to deal with the fallout.

Chapter Directory

I’m packing for the overnight trip to Culver (since we leave in a few days) when there’s a knock on my door. I’d told Bucky to come keep me company while I packed - he’s been finishing the Harry Potter books and sometimes, when I’m convincing enough, he’ll read them aloud to me - so I head to my door with a grin thinking it’s him.

When I open it, he’s standing there. Next to Nat. I smile, trying not to look surprised or disappointed. “Hey, guys, what’s up?”

Nat’s mouth is a harsh line. “Can we come in?”

“Absolutely.” As they enter, I can’t help myself. “Who died?”

She chuckles, but it’s a humorless sound. “Nobody, yet. I’ve got the info you asked for on your stepdad.”

I nod, blood running cold. “Oh, okay, then.” My voice comes out quiet, small. I sit at the kitchen table and gesture for them to join me. Nat sits directly across from me, laying out a few file folders, and Bucky takes the seat directly to my right. 

“Cleo,” she starts, and from the way she says my name alone - nothing but pity and discomfort - I know that she knows.

“Is he The Philosopher?” I interrupt, forcing my face into a mask of indifference.

“No,” Bucky replies. “He’s not.”

“You’re sure?”

“We’re positive,” Nat says, and I nod firmly.

“Alright then, thanks for doing all that research even though it was a waste of time.” I stand, folding my arms, and pace by the table. “Go team. Should we get some dinner? I’ve been craving bao buns and Tony says -”

Nat moves to stand, to come toward me, but Bucky shakes his head softly, keeping her in her seat. “Cleo,” he says, and hearing that same pity and discomfort from him - in James’ voice - pushes me over the edge. 

I turn my back to the table so they can’t see the tears rolling down my cheeks. “I could go for tacos if you’re not in the mood for bao,” I say, cursing the warble in my voice.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Cleo,” Natasha says softly.

I laugh, a tinge of hysteria to it, and wipe my tears before turning to face them. “It’s always taco time somewhere, Nat.”

I studiously avoid Bucky’s gaze, knowing it will set me off again, looking instead at Nat. At the woman who has, quite quickly, become one of my closest friends. Her face is hard, almost as if she’s holding back her own well of emotions, and it helps me keep mine from bubbling up.

She flicks her gaze between Bucky and I, hearing the unspoken as per usual, and stands. “I gotta run, but I’m going to leave these here,” she says, patting the files, “just in case you need them. Cleo, if you need… Well, you know where to find me if you want to.” She moves past me for the door, but pauses just as she reaches it, turning and giving me a hug so quick I’d believe she has superspeed. Before I can even hug her back, Nat is gone.

I sigh and sit, avoiding Bucky’s eyes. “We really don’t have to talk about this,” I say, picking at a fingernail.

He scoots his chair back so he can face me and reaches across the table for the files Nat left behind. “That’s completely up to you, just as soon as I say what I need to say about these files.” His voice is soft and kind and wonderful, and I don’t know if I love it or despise it.

I nod, still looking at my fingers.

“We may not have found anything that ties him to HYDRA, but we found enough to… Well, we know what kind of man he is, now, and these files contain enough evidence to send him to prison. Nat and I talked about it, and -”

I cut him off with a dark, humorless laugh. “Oh great, you guys talked about it. I love that you two are just casually chatting about the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Bucky’s voice doesn’t lose an ounce of softness. “Cleo, you know that’s not what I meant.”

I slam my hands on the table hard enough to sting my palms and stand, turning my back to Bucky once more. “I don’t know that, actually. What I do know is that I explicitly asked you both to only focus on Robert’s life before my mom and I, to avoid anything to do with me, and you both agreed. Now you’ve got files and evidence and you’re saying my name with all this fucking pity, so obviously you went behind my back and did it anyway.”

He stands and puts an arm on my shoulder. “Cleo, I get that you don’t want to go there, and that’s fine. Just let me tell you about the files and I’ll -”

I whip my shoulder from his grasp and turn to face him, eyes blazing and brimming with unshed tears. “You’ll what - you’ll just know this massive thing about my life, now? You’ll never be able to look me in the eye again? I didn’t want you to find any of this because I knew it would change everything. It always does.”

Bucky’s face is pleading. “Cleo, this changes nothing, except now I know you’re even tougher than I thought before.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’m a brave little soldier. So inspiring how I just took off after everything - just ran away. I don’t need your sympathy and I don’t need unearned admiration.”

His mouth becomes a firm line. “Alright then, come with me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to go anywhere right now - not with you or anyone else.”

He takes my hand - gentle but firm - and pulls me toward the door. “You said you didn’t want sympathy? That’s fine. I’ll give you something else.”

I frown deeply. Maybe I’m simply too tired to fight, because I allow him to lead me out of my apartment and through the hallways and stairwells to the gym. He holds the door open for me and gestures for me to enter. “What are we doing here, James?”

He walks over to the mats and grabs hand wraps from a basket, throwing a set toward me. Wordlessly, but never taking his eyes off mine, Bucky wraps his hands. I sigh, but follow suit and wrap my own. 

When I’ve finished, he takes a sparring stance. “Come on.”

I fold my arms. “What, you want me to hit you? You think this will fix everything?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, but I do think it’ll show you that I’m tellin’ the truth when I say things aren’t any different between us.” His Brooklyn accent seems stronger, sharper in the heat of his emotion.

I shrug, mirroring him, and we circle each other for a few moments. “Have it your way, I guess.” The look on his face is so sincere that I almost feel guilty for sweeping my leg toward his feet, aiming to knock him to the ground. He may be distracted, but his instincts are next-level and he simply jumps to avoid the kick.

I give a frustrated huff, and we continue circling. “It wasn’t your place to go digging into my life.”

He’s clearly not going to make any moves here, so I get more aggressive, aiming an uppercut at his jaw. He dodges it effortlessly.

“Maybe not, but Cleo - what he did wasn’t right. Someone should’ve known a long time ago. And I’m not gonna apologize for caring about you - about what happened to you.”

I freeze, shocked at his words, and he takes advantage of my surprise to bring his arm around, gently tapping the side of my head with his fist. “Hit,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean - now that you know, you only see what happened to me. You only care about what happened to me.”

I feint with an arm to one side and land a kick to his solar plexus with my opposite leg, significantly less gentle than his tap. It doesn’t phase him at all, but my foot kind of smarts.

He shakes his head. “Stop puttin’ words in my mouth - that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He repeats the leg-sweeping maneuver I tried earlier, but he’s so fast it’s successful. He reaches down a hand to help me, but I slap his hand away and get up on my own. I glare at him, shoving his chest. He backs up a few paces, eyes wide. “I’m pulling from experience, so don’t act like I should believe you won’t be different now, because I can’t know that. I can’t trust that. You have no idea what it’s like to -”

Bucky cuts me off, eyes narrowing. I can see a flush rising in his cheeks. “To what, Cleo? To walk around with this mountain of shame on my shoulders - shame that ain’t even mine to feel in the first place? To be stared at like I’m a goddamn charity case, some broken fuckin’ toy?” He throws his arms wide, hands spread. “To have someone take control of my body and my mind and force me to do things that’ll haunt me for the rest of my life?”

Bucky’s chest heaves as he breathes hard, and I pale instantly. “Shit, James, I’m sorry. I -” I reach a hand in his direction, but can’t let myself touch him. Not yet.

He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck. “No, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have gone off like that.” He sighs. “I’m just tryin’ to say that even though we lived through different shit, I can understand at least part of what you’re going through. And you can trust that I won’t look at you any different, because to me you’re always gonna just be Cleo, the woman I -” He cuts himself off, running a hand roughly down his face. “My friend.”

I nod, swallowing thickly. “Okay.” I meet his eyes for the first time since he entered my apartment, and what I find there feels like home.

He nods back. “Okay.”

“Okay.” My voice is no louder than a whisper as I step closer to him, narrowing the space between us to just a few inches, sparring long since forgotten. “What did you and Nat talk about?”

Bucky sighs deeply. It sounds like relief. It sounds like refuge. “We figure there are three options, and it’s up to you to pick one.” I nod, and he continues. “Option one, we burn those files and never talk about any of this ever again.”

“Option one sounds good.” He cuts me a look, but there’s no heat in it. I smile softly, biting my lip. “Sorry, go on.”

“Option two, the cops in your hometown come into work one day to find they’ve been given an anonymous tip, they arrest Robert, and he goes to prison - ideally forever.” I hum in thought, and he continues. “And option three, we burn the files and… we take matters into our own hands.”

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What does that mean?”

He gives me a duh, Cleo look. “Nat and I both know how to make people disappear without a trace. So we do that, and maybe it hurts real bad in the process.”

I sigh deeply, rubbing at my face. “I used to dream about option three. Literally - I would have dreams about it.” Bucky looks like he understands me completely. “But I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore. To be honest, I don’t know what I want.”

He reaches out and takes my hand in his, my skin tingling at the contact. “We both figured you’d want some time to think about it - take as much as you want. And for what it’s worth, Nat’s not gonna treat you any different, either.”

I give him a sad smile. “I hope you’re right.” I exhale a shaky breath, wiping at the corner of my eye. “Is it crazy that - that I’m disappointed Robert isn’t The Philosopher?”

Bucky smiles crookedly, obviously trying to brighten my mood. “Cleo, we established a long time ago that you’re plenty crazy. But no, I don’t think that particular thought is.”

I can’t help but smile back, but it’s watery and temporary. “I just think it… it would’ve been easier, if he was part of some giant evil organization. Maybe everything he did would make more sense, then.”

Bucky studies me, really processing what I’ve said before responding. “I definitely get what you mean, but I also don’t think somethin’ like that ever makes sense.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I think I wanted him to be this supremely evil villain, and instead he’s just some guy who did some really shitty things. It’s harder to put just some guy in a box, y’know?”

Bucky smiles sadly. “I’ve run into a lot of supremely evil villains in my extended life. Hell, I was one for a while - albeit against my will. And the thing about ‘em is that underneath it all, under the masks and the secret organizations and the big plans, every one of ‘em is just some guy.”

I nod thoughtfully, and he continues, moving his hand from my arm to my shoulder and squeezing gently, comfortingly. “Doesn’t make what they did any less evil, of course. But I think if we try to put ‘em all in a box like that, we run the risk of forgetting that they’re just people, and that people do pretty evil stuff sometimes. I think forgetting that dulls the impact a bit, and that’s not fair to the people they hurt.”

I stare at him, at his clear blue eyes and strong jaw and kind, kind face. “You’re pretty smart, you know that, Barnes?”

He chuckles. “Smart, old, potato, tomato.”

I laugh and grasp the forearm of the hand he has resting on my shoulder, gripping it firmly. “No, really. You’re very smart, and very kind, and I… I’m just really glad I met you.” I smile softly.

He gazes into my eyes searchingly, and I can barely hear him when he finally speaks. “I’m just really glad I met you, too.”

Whatever passes for my heart skips a beat as I realize how close the two of us are standing, how easy it would be for me to close my eyes and the space between us in one simple movement. Bucky’s pupils dilate and his eyebrows raise just a fraction, and I wonder for a moment if he’s had the same realization.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a millisecond and take a step back out from under his hand, coughing uncomfortably. I think I see Bucky’s face fall, but he’s back to his usual casual mask so quickly I think I might have imagined it.

He clears his throat, unwinding his hand wraps. I start to do the same. “Are we good?” he asks, avoiding my eyes.

I try to force my face into a normal smile, but based on Bucky’s expression I suspect it comes out at least mildly worrisome. “Yeah, Buck, we’re good. Totally fine. Perfectly normal. Well, as normal as a very old supersoldier and cosmic energy host can be.” I take the wraps from him and toss both sets back in the basket.

He chuckles, finally meeting my eyes, and I find understanding there. “Hey, what was that show you mentioned the other day - the one you said would eventually emotionally devastate me?”

I freeze for a moment - at war with myself. On the one hand, I want nothing more than to take this white flag he’s offering me, go back to his room, and enjoy another night in front of the TV with one of my favorite people. On the other hand, after everything we’ve just talked about… Well, I don’t want his pity. I don’t need his pity. 

I smile at him, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough emotional devastation for one day, Buck?” I say, passing him on my way to the door of the gym. I don’t turn to look - not wanting to see his reaction - as I pause at the door. “Try to get some sleep tonight, yeah?”

******

Bucky makes his way toward his room in silence, head pounding with the weight of the last few hours. Cleo’s rejection stings, but really he can’t blame her. He just dropped a bomb on her life - on whatever tentative thing they’ve been building - so of course she doesn’t want to just go back to his room and watch a stupid television show. Of course he’d be the last goddamn person she’d want to spend time with.

He finds himself at Steve’s door instead of his own, as he does on many lonely nights - well, did, before he and Cleo started their little insomniac club. Bucky shakes his head to erase the thought and knocks on his friend’s door.

Steve answers immediately. “Buck? What’s wrong?”

He enters wordlessly, waiting until he’s taken his usual spot on one of Steve’s overstuffed, floral armchairs to speak. “I fucked everything up.”

Steve sits opposite him with a kind, open expression. That’s the kind of guy Cleo’s going to end up with, Bucky thinks to himself. Someone cheerful, and open, and easy, and kind. Not someone damaged - not someone like me. 

Steve waves his hand in front of his friend’s face. “Earth to Buck - whatever awful things you’re thinking about yourself, knock it off and talk to me.”

Bucky sighs. He really doesn’t deserve Steve, if he thinks about it. But he knows he’s a selfish bastard, so he’s going to bother the guy anyway. “I fucked things up with Cleo.”

Steve’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “I didn’t know there were things to… to mess up.”

Bucky chuckles. Steve is nothing if not consistent. “There weren’t - aren’t. Not really. We’ve just been watching movies together for a while, since neither of us are very good at sleeping. We’re friends, I guess.”

“But,” Steve says, eyes full of knowing. “You want it to be something more than that.”

“I dunno,” Bucky says, waffling to obscure the truth of his feelings. But it’s Steve, and Steve always knows, somehow, so… “Yeah, I guess. Maybe.”

“So what happened?”

“I…” Bucky trails off, wanting to keep as much of Cleo’s privacy intact as possible. “I found some things out about her past. And before you ask -” he holds up a hand to stop Steve’s incoming questions. “It’s her story to tell you if she decides to - I’m not going to fuck things up any more than I already have.”

“Alright, I can respect that.”

“So I found these things out,” Bucky continues. “Things she didn’t want anyone to know. And now she says the way I look at her has changed, and I thought I’d fixed it - I thought I’d convinced her that nothing’s changed at all. But when I asked if she wanted to watch something with me tonight, y’know - like we’ve been doing lately, she just told me to get some sleep.”

Steve hums in thought. “Maybe she needed some space.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Bucky scratches the back of his neck. “But it felt like she just didn’t want to be around me.”

Steve nods. “Okay, so maybe she didn’t. Maybe you finding out… whatever it is you found out, maybe it has changed things between you. And maybe that’s hard for her.”

Bucky shakes his head vehemently. “It hasn’t, though - it hasn’t changed anything.”

Steve levels a flat look at his best friend. “Buck, sometimes things change, whether we want them to or not. You can’t take back knowing whatever it is you know, but you can at least be honest with her and try to figure out where you go from here.”

Bucky sits back in his seat, reeling. Sometimes things change, whether we want them to or not. He shoots up, standing abruptly. “Steve, you’re the smartest punk I know.”

Steve smiles up at him. “And you’re the dumbest jerk I know. You gonna go make things right?”

Bucky nods, striding for the door. “I’m going to try.”

[inkybinkyboink]

I refuse to get FOMO this year. REFUSE. I am doing my OWN thing. I am choosing the road LESS TRAVELLED. I am being DARK and MYSTERIOUS. I AM LIVING MY OWN LIFE.

[masquerade-v]

Hey dude you're getting ink everywhere,,,

+ Ollie doodles

I made a quick design for his monster form that I may [definitely] tweak some time later but eh

[elle-p]

Ouuggghhhhh......

[colinprovolone]

i really like the theming of unfairness throughout fhjy so far.

the bad kids having just saved the world, driving 48 straight hours, and still having to go to school that morning

riz having to work multiple times as hard, taking on a shit ton of extracurriculars to have any shot of being able to go to college, just by virtue of he and his mom’s financial situation

adaine being expected to source ten fucking barrels of diamonds (and various eggs) for wizard class, with no aid systems in place for students who can’t afford that

fabian coming home to his mother and gilear taking off pretty much immediately and indefinitely, leaving him alone in his huge house unable to locate the non-milk food

fig and her sudden onset gilear vibes, and being culpable for the debt of her tour being cancelled due to the world needing to be saved

gorgug having to work a 400% academic courseload to multiclass because porter can’t see his aptitude, taking personal issue in the way gorgug deviates from he feels barbarians should be

kristen having the mortality of her god on her shoulders while being a spiralling teenager, and cassandra having her mortality on the shoulders of her only cleric, a spiralling teenager. the trail-off on her “It just isn't f... It just doesn't feel f...” during the mall battle…

kipperlily’s whole deal about campaigning for fairness yet taking pride in taking advantage of loopholes, and stomping rats daily for years with the rest of the rat grinders

shit’s really fucking unfair!

[akkivee]

i was looking up buddhism stuff last night for reasons not at all related to kuukou for once lol but was reminded of buddhism’s ‘sins’, which kuukou’s last name is a reference to and i think you all should actually know what those are lol

the parajika specifies that if a monk commits any of these four acts, they should be stripped of their monk robes and expelled from the community

getting busy

theft

murder and can’t incite/encourage it either

can’t lie, especially in the way of passing false knowledge as means of betterment for others but it’s for their own gain

and whether or not kuukou a virgin lol, he has done all of these in some way and is especially guilty of the last one LOL

[thunder-shadow]

.

[lonesomedreamer]

another thing that’s wild about SNW is the way it treats Spock, the franchise’s most beloved and iconic character by far. it’s not just the weak writing (Ethan does a great job, and it’s obvious that he loves Spock—but there are times when even his best efforts can’t save the script).* it’s that almost none of the SNW characters themselves seem to like or respect Spock.

I’ve already pointed it out how often Spock is mocked and belittled by his fellow officers for just doing his (essential!) job as the science officer; that judgment and harsh treatment extends to his own fiancée (while in-character for her, T'Pring’s attitude is often portrayed as reasonable by the narrative). even Christine, Spock’s biggest supporter and the most understanding/sympathetic of his colleagues, ultimately shuts him down when he does his best to be emotionally supportive!

sure, there were plenty of times when the og Spock was teased—or even insulted—by his friends. Uhura sings about him in an early episode, but he’s obviously in on the joke, because he’s smiling and playing lyre while she sings. when Kirk does it, the audience can tell that it’s coming from a place of love. when Bones does it (whether or not you think he’s actually being racist or not), Spock can and does give as good as he gets—it’s mutual. and when someone else is judgmental towards Spock, their behavior is almost always called out by other characters (Bones included!) (“leave any bigotry in your quarters, there’s no room for it on the Bridge.” / “he has no heart.” “his heart is different!”)

an entire TOS movie is dedicated to the idea of Spock being so valued by his friends that all six of them would put their careers and lives on the line without hesitation just for the chance to bring him back from the dead! there are also plenty of other instances in the show itself when his friends refuse to give him up for dead (“shut up, Spock! we’re rescuing you!” etc.) though Spock’s linguistic precision and technobabble are sources of humor, they’re not usually used a reason to ridicule him.

contrast that to SNW, in which Christine has to beg two of his fellow Bridge officers, Ortegas and Uhura, to accompany her when she begs the inter-dimensional aliens to fix Spock’s broken genome, because she’s the only one on the Enterprise who seems to care that he’s been altered. his fellow officers also regularly make snarky comments like “plan on marrying that debris field, Spock?” and “can’t you just say ‘two moons’?” etc., as Spock is making scientific observations in his capacity as the science officer and even confront him (“are you just some heartless, pointy-eared computer?”) in traumatic/dangerous moments. and to make matters worse, the SNW writers rarely if ever allow Spock to clap back in this scenes the way he so often did in TOS.

I understand that SNW’s Spock is younger, less experienced, and less sure of himself. he’s a lieutenant, not the first officer. nonetheless, he’s the butt of so many jokes and looked down on/judged harshly by so many other characters that I can’t help but wonder if the writers have a similarly low opinion of him.

*to be clear, I don’t think that exploring the possibility of a romance with Christine Chapel is an example of the show or writers disrespecting Spock—but the way they’ve handled his relationships with both T’Pring and Christine (the fact that both of them are “love interests” at all, actually) evidence of their apparent disregard for and misunderstanding of his character, imo.

[abbey-abdominal]

Don’t worry Pomni, I’m still your number one glazer *kisses her on the cheek spots*

Bonus Gangle/Ragatha/Zooble sloppy oppy meme

[theultracharmingladynoire]

something something about how the rings not just symbolised Yuuri and Victor's bond and was not just an omamori for them something something Victor was the first person Yuuri wanted to hold on to and share his dreams with and depend on after fighting for so long ALONE something something the rings symbolising this exact same thing something something about how Yuuri's arc still is wonderful even when he didn't win the gold because he finally learnt to actually depend on people, share his dreams and aims with them and not fight alone which is something he struggles with for the whole show

[theflyestwhiteboyofthemall]

i just think society will heal when we stop trying to dictate what anyone else outside of n'importe quoi religion can or cannot do bc of said religion. but yall think it's just catholicism n christianity is the problem which is the problem bc thts the mindset tht but catholicism n christianity where it is today but anyways

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

i really don't think it's helpful to discuss historical figures as being 'actually' ugly or 'actually' beautiful or not.

better phrasing: were they perceived as being ugly or beautiful by others during their time? why? why not? how did this affect them? what does this say about the beauty standards of the context they lived within (time, place, status, etc.)? what might their view of their own beauty or lack thereof say about themself?

[the-cooler-king]

Yall remember that post that goes like "I told my friend once that when I feel like I'm losing my mind I lay under my desk for a while. One such time I go under there and there is a slim Jim taped to the bottom of my desk with the note, "going insane all alone again?"" I think about it constantly especially when I am going insane

[fandom-geek]

Apparently, some aspects of some degrees are cheated on by most students (if that's the case, we should tell all students that it's ok to cheat on that so they don't waste their time on something that apparently wasn't important anyway, or worse, fail out just for being ethical.)

as an academic - not only is this bullshit, but marketing yourself by saying you should encourage students to cheat is a bit of an insane move, and not in a good way. especially when you're so unsure that you're disclaiming this all with "apparently"!

i mean, no offence, but there's no clearer way you could show that you don't understand the point of university, a degree, or university accreditation at all. and "most" is what cheaters tell themselves - cheaters are a lot more obvious than they realise, and they will be marked (or charged with violating academic integrity) appropriately. the difference between their work in-class (or lack of outright attendance) and their assignments is always a pretty obvious way they get caught out, especially when they forget to discuss major points that came up during their contact hours.

anyway, just going to point out that us-based the non-fiction writers' association is also a great source of info for anyone looking for resources on this. there's also the society of authors if you're uk-based. most countries will have their own writers' guilds or associations aimed at providing this same info, often for free.

Success is Dependent on Secret Information

A lot of career success depends on you and the work you put into it, as well as luck beyond your control, but sadly, it also depends on secret information, magic words, and stupid little tricks.

That's not fair. I don't like it, but we can help by sharing that secret information--which is the antidote to gate-keeping. That's why I recently wrote this in my Authors of Nonfiction Books in Progress substack:

It can be really disheartening to realize that, when you thought you failed at something because you didn't do well enough, other people had the magic words. For instance, some injustices I've witnessed (that may or may not always be the case, or maybe not anymore!) include:

A good athletic score doesn't get you into a college sport--having a coach or parent talk to the college coach is mandatory

Many school-sponsored scholarships are often not tightly linked to grades, test scores, or financial need, but whether the student said the right words ("I can't afford that") to the right person (presumably some financial office person.)

Apparently, some aspects of some degrees are cheated on by most students (if that's the case, we should tell all students that it's ok to cheat on that so they don't waste their time on something that apparently wasn't important anyway, or worse, fail out just for being ethical.)

Especially related to books: Few people will mention that you can get grants! Not my agent, not my publisher, not the 1 zillion "pros and cons of trad publishing" articles out there mentioned grants (Grant eligibility is a HUGE benefit of trad publishing.) I got more money from grants than my entire book advance!

Let me know what magic words/secret knowledge you've learned, that you wish you knew sooner. Or: the widespread understanding of what information would make a field more fair?

And please share ANBIP with anyone writing, publishing, or seriously about to start writing, a nonfiction non-memoir book, especially if they're interested in the more practical side (I share more about resources and strategy than craft.)

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

i wrote this in the notes of another post originally and am copy + pasting it here because im right but "tell the cops nothing, tell the doctors everything" is such a stupid ass fucking abled take. doctors engage in policing idk how to explain to yall that some people cannot in fact just tell doctors everything without it putting them at risk

like im not gonna go into the myriad of ways this is bs but like a quick example is i cant tell my doctors about my substance use issues because if i get that listed on my medical records it will actively endanger me. It will impact how I'm treated in emergency situations and will get me labeled as "drug seeking" when i try to get other issues dealt with.

i dont say this to scare people but because this is actually important information for people to have. if a medical professional claims this isnt an issue, they are NOT "one of the good ones". they are either straight up lying or theyre utterly unaware, which is frankly not better. doctors are cops. never forget it

like YES tell ur doctor abt being sexually active but stop saying "tell the cops nothing and the doctor everything" before i start killing in cold blood

I KNOW THE ORIGINAL QUOTE. This is about how people misquote it, as well as how they view the phrase as meaning "all medical professionals". ALSO! emts are not the neutral figures you think they are. please stop spewing your lack of understanding on the topic all over my tags, its embarrassing. Paramedics kill people and engage in policing stop fucking shilling for them indiscriminately

finally, THIS POST IS ABOUT DRUGS. FIRST AND FOREMOST IT IS ABOUT DRUGS. THIS WAS WRITTEN BY AN ADDICT. the way yall are talking about addicts and drugs users in the tags is so fucking dehumanising. you are part of the problem. Id suggest non addicts shut their traps please and thank you.

similarly, before you comment, ask youself: am i an addict ? do i have an understanding of how addicts, particularly otherwise disabled addicts, have to navigate healthcare systems ? if not, consider SHUTTING THE FUCK UP. hope this helps !

read the notes before you leave a comment im so fucking serious. reblogs are off because none of you know how to act and i have zero patience at this point. if you think im being bitchy pls consider the fact that your stupid comment does not exist in a vacuum and i have received and deleted countless stupid notes and abusive asks on and about this post and your stupid comment exists within that context and i am fucking tired.

[infictionalwonderland]

The BAU team meeting Hotch’s younger gf who looks like she walked off the front cover of a magazine & she’s so bubbly and has a really comforting energy! How would they react????

The satisfying little clicks of heels against the marble floor wasn’t enough to gain any of their attention usually, but accompanied by the delicately enchanting chimes of true laughter and sweet smell of baked goods—eyes were immediately lifting to investigate to the scene.

“Thank you so much!” An incredibly sweet, honeyed voice gushed genuinely, “here, all of these are meant for my boyfriend but I’m sure he won’t even notice.”

The team traded immensely interested looks as they surveyed the scene, Anderson (who was uncharacteristically blushing a bright flustered cherry red) was being handed a chocolate chip muffin by—wow—a startlingly gorgeous young women who was dressed in inviting soft colours and had a large sweet smile on her face that served to emphasise her lovely appearance.

“My day just got a hundred times better.” Derek grinned, swivelling his chair sideways to speak to the rest of his team while barely taking his eyes off you.

“You’re telling me.” Emily’s mouth hung open a little as she leaned forwards on her elbows to look at you more closely.

“Behave.” JJ scolded before her brief look of reprimand melted under Emily’s pointed stare, “she’s looks so sweet I just wanna eat her.”

“She has a boyfriend.” Spencer reminded them.

“What—?”

“Pretty boy—you and—“

“Oh—oh, no!” Spencer flustered, sputtering out the gulp of his coffee he had in his mouth (JJ handed him a napkin with a mothers readiness). “Not—I would be absolutely honoured—and—and, for lack of a sensical phrase, over the moon, to have a romantic relationship with a woman such as her but—no, unfortunately. She—she said a few moments ago that has a boyfriend.”

“Ah.” Emily blinked, a slow almost sheepish smirk on his lips, “I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, just watching her lips move.”

“Preach sister.” Derek leaned forward for a fist-bump which Emily easily gave, both of them nodding in solidarity.

“Hello!” They all startled heavily as your gentle, happy voice chimed now much closer to them and mouths dropped subtly at just how beautiful you looked up close.

“Well hello sweetheart.”

“H-hi.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“Hello!”

You blinked at them, an adorable giggle leaving you at the onslaught of greetings that came all at once. “Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where Aaron Hotchner’s office is would you?”

“Hotch?” Emily furrowed her brows at you curiously and then seemed to forgot about, well, any of anything she was thinking as your bubbly smile and sparkling eyes turned her way and you gave a cheerful ‘yep!’ “Um—just, up those stairs, the first door at the top.”

“Thank you very much.” You told her, voice as sweet as the packet of fizzy haribos hidden in her desk. “It was lovely meeting you all, we’ll probably be better acquainted later on.”

With a sparkly mischievous twinkle in your bright eyes and another adorable giggle, you took off in a small spin that sent the enchanting mix of your perfume and the baked goods wafting over to all of them and they all watched, entranced, as you climbed the steps to their boss’ office.

After several seconds of dazed silence, Spencer gasped.

“Boyfriend—“

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind being her boyfriend either.” Derek murmured. “At all—really, no sweat off my back.”

“Hotch.”

JJ’s mouth dropped open as she realised where Spencer was going with his train of thought, rolling back in her chair as they pointed at him in realisation.

“Oh my God!”

“Hotch—hotch, is her boyfriend..?” Spencer sounded extremely confused, mouth falling open and closing repeatedly.

“Huh?”

“Reid, you are having a giggle.”

“No, he’s right.” JJ confirmed, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “She said she was here to see her boyfriend and she’s gone to see Hotch. . 2 plus 2 equals. .”

“. . An incredibly brokenhearted Derek Morgan.” Derek’s own mouth dropped open, craning his neck to see what was going on in the office of his boss before realising that Hotch had shut the blinds. Derek gasped, that sneak.

“And a flummoxed Emily Prentiss.”

“But she’s so—“

“Yeah.”

“And he’s like—“

“Literally!”

“Well, the last few months Hotch has been incredibly more relaxed, in fact his percentage of smiles given has gone up from a measly 30% to almost 84%, his laugh quota has reached high yet levels than I’ve ever known it to be. I had also noted that every Thursday he never goes home as late as he usually retires for the day and with this new revelation of a relationship—I assume this correlates to their date nights.”

“It does.”

Everyone turned in their chairs quickly to face their boss who now stood outside his office a faintly amused smile curving up his lips, at his side was you and you were wearing an amused and loving smile, eyes practically sparkling after Spencer’s speech on your boyfriend’s behaviour as they flickered up to said boyfriend beside you who looked down at you with soft, fond eyes.

“So you figured out my secret.” You grinned at them all, taking in Spencer’s red cheeks and Emily’s flabbergasted, dazed stare. “I’m Y/N, Aaron’s girlfriend!”

“Doesn’t that just crush a man’s hopes and dreams.” Derek pouted quietly to himself, straightening up in alarm when his boss’ intense eyes zeroed in on him.

“Honey, this is JJ—“ The blonde gave a warm, welcoming smile and a wave, “Spencer,” said genius gave a tight lipped awkward smile, hands flailing awkwardly and cheeks a burning fiery red, feeling this pulse thump when they smiled back directly at him, “Emily and Derek.” Both of the aforementioned gave waves with half flirty-ish smirks and half genuine smiles.

The door to Rossi’s office opened and when he stepped out and saw you beside Aaron he smiled happily, walking towards you both.

“Ah, Y/N!” He took you into an embrace, kissing both of your cheeks. “You get more beautiful every time I see you, is this big brute treating you right?”

“Always, Dave.”

He patted you on the shoulders, smiling, before turning to Aaron who was rolling his eyes at him fondly.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Rossi!” Emily’s astounded voice exclaimed, “you—know Y/N—you knew about this—“

It was Dave’s turn to roll his eyes as he continued walking to descend down the stairs, tutting at her disappointedly.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He countered, “who do you think encouraged him to go for it?”

You laughed at that and your boyfriend smiled down at you fondly, looping an arm around your waist—seemingly forgetting he was in his place of work and needed to keep up the facade of stone cold, emotionless boss.

“What—Rossi—get back here—“ Derek leaped up from his seat and trailed after the older man.

“What, you gonna come watch me take a leak?”

“If it means we get some answers!”

“Shoo parassita.”

All you could do was laugh again, smiling up at your boyfriend as his arm tightened around your waist and he pulled you closer into his side. You were very happy with your decision to come and deliver baked goods to him.