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chainofclovers · 3 years ago

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Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #meta by me #ted lasso 2x10 #a lesbian watches ted lasso #lotta feelings in here y'all #cw suicide

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babyjamiebarnes · 4 years ago

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Build-A-Bear

Part Ten

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker, Steve, Sam

Warnings: mentions of smut (bondage, anal play, breeding kink, slight voyeurism), language, mentions of arson

Summary: Now that reader is stuck back at her apartment, she can finally feel safe again — until that safety is completely compromised. And more than her physical safety is put on the line.

Author’s Note: I’m so fucking stoked for this chapter!!! This is when it starts to get wild!! I hope you all like it! If you even read this, you should let me know who you think the person in question is (you’ll know what I mean when you read it lol). And as always, feel free to buy me a coffee if you want!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed

Series Masterlist

Spending the next two weeks sequestered in your apartment wasn’t terrible, but it just cemented your assumption that you couldn’t even pretend to be normal anymore. At least when you were at the Tower, you felt like another face in the crowd compared to the Avengers.

Accommodating your work from home setup wasn’t easy, but you all made it work. Peter worked with you when he was back for a weekend. He even helped you go through more of your fan mail, if you could even call it that. There were some parcels that were genuine fan mail, people wishing you well and young girls saying you inspired them to pursue STEM careers; there were some death threats that you had to send to local law enforcement to investigate; there were mostly creepy letters from men you could only assume were older than your father. One man wrote that he wanted to find out if you smelled as beautiful as you looked. Cringe. Another wrote about how he wanted to suck on your toes until they were wrinkly. Gag. The worst was a man who said he wanted to be sandwiched between you and your dad. Barf.

Steve and Sam used the scanner your dad made to check all your mail before it was even brought upstairs. None had been poisoned or set to explode, but some contained explicit items that you were more than happy to not see.

It was still slightly traumatizing when Steve waltzed in with a package in his arms and said, “Hey [Y/N], I didn’t toss this one because it doesn’t look like it’s from a person. Did you order something from… Romantix?”

You paused mid-chew as you, Bucky, and Sam all sat in your living room enjoying a nice Saturday lunch. Bucky wasn’t fazed, continuing to eat his food; Sam, however, busted out laughing.

“What’s in it, Steve?” Sam asked loudly, clearly trying to rile you up.

“Uh, all the scanner showed was a couple small golf balls -- I think -- and what looked like a top? And a remote.”

Sam kept giggling to himself, Bucky and Steve both looked confused as hell. You moved to grab the box from Steve but Sam beat you to it, tutting at you as you reached for it again.

“Uh-uh. We should open it to make sure everything is safe,” Sam teased.

“Everything in there is safe, I promise,” you swore. When you tried to steal the package back, Sam yoinked it further from your grasp with a devious smile. Your cheeks were burning hot at the thought of the inevitable. Sam was going to open your box, Steve was going to turn red as a tomato, and Bucky was… well, hopefully he was going to take you to your room for the rest of the day.

And before you could try to snatch the box away again, Sam ripped the packing tape off and pulled out the first item: kegel balls.

“What are those?” Steve asked.

“Don’t worry about it!” you shouted, grabbing the vacuum-packed, heavy silver balls from a still giggling Sam. He reached back into the box and you realized you may just have to suck it up and let him have his show-and-tell.

“Here’s that ‘top’ you were talking about,” Sam joked. And in his hands sat… the butt plug.

“Sam, stop! Literally no one here needs to see this except me and Bucky,” you whined.

“In that case, I’m curious. What else is in there?” Bucky asked, leaning forward to peek inside.

“Bucky! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Sam shrugged and handed the box to Bucky so he could rummage through it instead. You couldn’t really complain as much now that your boyfriend was doing the snooping instead.

“What the -- oh,” Bucky said as he lifted the next item: a remote… tied to a pair of thin black panties.

“Why would those come together?” Steve asked. You weren’t sure if he was serious or not because he may have been born in the early 1900s, but he would’ve had to have checked out modern porn and kinks by now, right?

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows. His lips were quirked in an annoying smirk. Bucky sat with a similar expression; at least you knew he had brushed up on modern sex.

“They’re vibrating panties,” you deadpanned. Steve fortunately didn’t look too surprised, he just raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“What’s next, Buck?” Sam prompted him to continue unpacking.

“Oh -- oh -- oh yeah. We can have some fun with this,” Bucky laughed as he lifted up the collar and ball gag.

“Damn, [Y/N]. You’re a freaky freak,” Sam laughed. Bucky didn’t even deny this; he just laughed with his friend before continuing with the last items.

“And…” Bucky started to explain. He quickly cut himself off when he saw what was in his hands -- and covering the bottom of the package. Dozens of pieces of lingerie, from skimpy little lace pieces to a loose-fitting satin teddy to a sheer black robe. “Oh, that’s for my eyes only,” he finally said.

Sam and Steve grumbled in response but didn’t push it. They probably realized getting a full reveal of the shit you and Bucky wanted to mess around with was more than they would’ve gotten if you had your way.

And just as you hoped, Bucky took you to your bedroom for a few hours. You found out you didn’t love the plug and the ball gag made you drool, but the collar had a little leash Bucky was able to pull on while hitting it from the back... you liked that one.

From that day on, you made sure to tell the boys when you’d have a package coming in. Bucky definitely perked up at the mention of more mail like that coming his way.

•

Two weeks after the Romantix debacle, Peter was back in town and stoked to help you go through mail again. He didn’t like all the creepy letters, but he was really good at making you laugh at them instead of constantly cringing and gagging. Bucky and Steve even sat to help, but Sam said if he was going to keep cooking for everyone, he didn’t have to sort through mail. And none of you wanted to pass up on his classic New Orleans recipes.

You all sat around your dining room table with your small dining TV playing old episodes of “Criminal Minds” as background noise. The amount of mail you received definitely dropped with time, but you’d still have a hefty pile at the end of the week. The creepy letters were shredded but you liked responding to the nicer letters, so there was a “shred” pile and a “respond” pile on either side of the “open next” pile.

You were all working in near-silence aside from the quiet dialogue on the TV and the occasional clink of pans from Sam in the kitchen. With four of you working, you’d be able to read through everything in about half an hour. As you neared the bottom of the pile, you grabbed a large manilla envelope and felt the weight of whatever was inside. It couldn’t have been dangerous because the boys scanned everything, but you carefully tugged it open nonetheless. You held it upside down and gently shook out the contents: a letter, a smaller envelope, and a DVD. A few people sent mix CDs or fan videos on DVDs and flash drives, so you were initially excited about this one… until you started reading the letter. The choppy typewriter print quickly turned muddled as your blood froze in your veins.

My darling [Y/N],

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? No, I don’t think I shall. I’ll cut to the chase instead: I’m the reason the world knows who you are. Guess I’m a little loose-lipped. Oops! But I needed you to know I’m serious somehow. Or else you wouldn’t see this as a true threat.

I know your little secret. I’ve seen more than I originally planned, but you gave me plenty to work with in my free time. You look beautiful while you sleep; you look even more beautiful in the throes of passion. But I’m not looking to have your body.

Unless you get $2,000,000 to your little doorman Matthew to bring to me by the end of the week, the enclosed pictures will make their way to the desk of daddy dearest. And we both know he won’t appreciate seeing who is penetrating his daughter.

And if that $2,000,000 doesn’t find me by the end of next week, the video on the DVD will be released to the world.

I look forward to our next interaction.

Your hands shook as you tore open the envelope to see what pictures this person allegedly had of you. At first, they were just creepy candids of you walking down the street, nothing the paps wouldn’t have. Then they turned into photos of Bucky escorting you through crowds… and then photos of you in your apartment.

You were sleeping in your bed in one. Then standing in your kitchen making breakfast in one of Bucky’s shirts. And then a shirtless Bucky was cradling your face and kissing your forehead.

The next picture was of Bucky standing behind you in the kitchen. His pajama bottoms — the pair you got him for his birthday — were pooled at his feet. One hand was pressing you to the counter, the other was hoisting your leg up to the granite as he drove into you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, unable to speak. As you frantically flipped through the rest of the photos, your eyes flooded with tears and your breathing grew more erratic, grabbing Bucky’s attention, then Peter’s, then Steve’s.

But their concern meant nothing to you as you processed the images before you.

You on your knees with Bucky’s dick clearly between your lips. Bucky on his knees with his face pressed between your thighs. Your legs wrapped around Bucky’s torso as he moved you on his cock. Bucky’s hand wrapped around your throat as you rode him on the couch.

All the images looked like they were taken through your windows, like someone was somehow standing outside your apartment despite being stories above the ground.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked softly. He gently touched your arm, drawing your view from the distressing imagery to his attempted comfort, though it unfortunately did nothing to calm you down. Not this time.

You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes but couldn’t bring yourself to speak. All you could do was shake your head and push the letter to him. You watched his eyes quickly scan the words before reaching for the photos. He didn’t snatch them away from you or even try to take them. He just held his hand out and let you shakily hand them over.

And then you saw the pacific blue of his eyes turn dark and stormy, his jaw clenching as he flipped through the pictures of you — you and him. His breathing grew more and more ragged the more he saw, until he threw the photos to the table with a loud, “Fuck!”

Seconds later, Sam dashed into the room as Steve sifted through the photos. Even Steve grew irritated at the sight. Peter and Sam quickly followed suit, only glimpsing a few pictures before getting the gist of the rest.

The room was silent aside from your quiet sobs. You and Bucky both stared at the disc lying between you until your eyes met. His usually pale blue irises were nearly black.

“I’m scared,” you whimpered. Despite being scared himself — and angry and frustrated and confused — he reached out to pull you into his lap and hold you. Keeping you close always made him feel better, even when it felt like the world was crashing around him.

“Close the curtains,” he demanded gruffly. Steve and Peter immediately jumped up and started pulling all your curtains shut, throwing your usually bright apartment into near darkness.

Bucky held your face between his palms, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“I know you’re scared, but we need to see what’s on that DVD.”

“I can already guess what it is,” you said through your tears.

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky agreed. “But we have to make sure.”

You simply nodded. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, helping your breathing slow at the reassuring gesture. He led you into the living room with the DVD in hand. Steve and Sam stood in the living room, Peter sat on the couch. They all looked concerned for you, but tried not to show pity. You could tell they were all upset about this too.

“You can leave the room if you don’t want to see what I’m sure we all know is on this,” Bucky said. His voice was deep and gravelly, almost like his morning voice, but… mean.

You and Bucky sat together on the sofa across from Peter, all eyes trained on the TV as the screen faded from black to a slightly fuzzy shot of your bed. Seconds later, you and Bucky came on screen. And there was audio.

You giggled as Bucky’s body pushed yours to the mattress. “What are you gonna do to me?” your voice sounded.

“I’m gonna put a baby in you,” Bucky’s voice growled. “I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Jesus,” Sam grumbled. You would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Bucky only let it play until clothes started coming off. That’s when he knew they actually had a sex tape of you two, especially considering the nearly two-hour time frame on it. Sending explicit pictures of you and Bucky to your dad was one thing, but releasing a non-consensual sex tape of you two was something else entirely.

“What are we gonna do?” Peter asked quietly. Your tears had finally stopped, but the concern in his voice almost sent you over the edge again. He was such a sweet kid and he didn’t deserve to deal with the stress of this with you. But you also knew he was your best friend — practically a brother — and he wasn’t going to let you fend for yourself through this, even with Bucky by your side.

“We have to give them the money,” Sam replied. “We can find out who the door guy gives it to and arrest them or track the bills, but we have to get the money.”

“I don’t have the money,” you confessed. Everyone except Bucky seemed surprised. “I make $200,000 before taxes. Before I got this new role, I made half that. Even if we don’t deduct taxes and the expenses I do pay for, I wouldn’t have even close to two million.”

Everyone went silent again until Steve finally spoke up.

“We need to talk to the doorman.”

•

Bucky stormed out of the elevator, rushing ahead of everyone with murder in his eyes. He gripped the front of Matt’s suit and shoved him against the wall, shaking the letter in his face.

“What the fuck is this?” Bucky was seething.

“What?” Matt squeaked. His eyes were wide as saucers. He was clearly not expecting this confrontation. Bucky just shook the letter again to draw the doorman’s attention.

“Wait. You got one too?” Matt asked. Bucky’s grip loosened as he stared at the shorter man in confusion. You instinctively looked at Peter, who looked just as baffled as you. “I-I got a letter like that. In my locker. This morning.”

“Show us,” you demanded. Bucky released him but Matt’s eyes saw the posse of Avengers behind you (save for Peter, who he probably assumed was either a friend or boyfriend — secret identity and all that) and he rushed all of you to the locker room.

It was a small room since there were only a dozen doormen in your building, if that. He opened his locker and revealed a letter that was nearly identical to yours, but with no mentions of his looks and a much different threat.

“They’re threatening arson?!” you nearly shouted. Bucky and Steve read the letter before handing it to Sam and Peter to check out as well.

“They included pictures of my mom and sister,” Matt explained, clearly scared of what might happen to him and his loved ones. “They know where I live and they know who I live with. I-I would’ve taken this to th-the police but I didn’t want to risk it.”

“They have the later date listed for him,” Sam said. “You had one week to get the money or they’d tell Tony, two weeks or they release the tape. Now we have two weeks to save his family.”

Everyone in the room fell silent once again. Eyes fell on you as Peter quietly repeated his earlier question: “What are we gonna do?”

Despite all eyes on you, you turned to Bucky, who continued to study the letter. His jaw flexed as he thought and if this had been any other time, you would’ve kissed the tension away.

“We’re gonna tell Tony.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #Bucky smut #Bucky x reader smut #Stark!reader

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years ago

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Touch (one-shot)

Synopsys: There was a time Bucky hated touch. He hated to be touched and to touch. Not anymore. Now things are different. And as the snow slowly covers New York, Bucky thinks of how he got to that point.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluffffff, lil bit of angst as insecure and guilty Bucky

Warnings: swearing, suggestive stuff, Bucky feelin low at points and insecure (yes, that is a fucking warning)

Word count: 5517

Bucky loved touch.

He used to hate it, given how any time for the past seventy years touch meant harm, excruciating pain and torture. And not just it being inflicted upon him by his captors. Sometimes he was on the delivering end.

But he loved it now, just like he loved the early mornings of New York when the city still somewhat slept, and he could just watch the twinkling lights flicker through the pale curtains.

Now, everything was covered in a layer of snow. The sky looked lighter, despite the fact that it was 5 AM, but each flake reflected the beams of the city, encasing it in a warm white blanket.

He loved the touch of snow. It was cold, but not an angry cold. It was the kind of cold that reminded him of her feet stuck under his back in the middle of the night or the kind of cold that he felt on his lips as he leaned down to kiss her frigid nose. It was a safe cold. A loving one.

It hadn’t come easy though – getting to the point where he didn’t wince when someone clapped on his shoulder, or be the one to seek out someone’s hand, let alone initiate a hug or bring her in for a kiss.

It was Tony’s funeral of all places where everything had started. Sam was talking with Steve as his best friend passed on the mantle of Captain America. In a way, Bucky was glad it hadn’t been him. He didn’t feel like he deserved it, nor did he feel like he could carry such amount of responsibility. Not then at least.

He turned around, head tilted downwards as he watched pine needles crunch under his feet when another pair came in view. Bucky instantly recognised her.

Y/E/C eyes met his blue ones, and although there wasn’t much physical resemblance of her father, Y/N carried herself in the same suave way, and her gaze always glinted with knowledge and mischief. Now her eyes were rimmed with red.

“I uh,” she started before clearing her throat. “I wanted to say thank you for coming. He’d… he would’ve really appreciated it.”

Bucky almost choked on the sudden tears, and he shook his head. Throughout the whole funeral, he’d barely kept it together, as waves and waves of guilt rolled around. “Y/N, I don’t think anyone would want the murderer of their paren-“

She shook her head in dismissal not letting him finish the sentence. “He forgave you. A long time ago. In fact, I don’t think you were the one that hurt him the most. Dad was a lot of things… but despite what many believe, when he found out he was wrong, it wasn’t hard for him to admit it.”

Bucky swallowed hard. He should be on his knees begging for forgiveness and mercy, he should be begging her to believe how truly and utterly sorry he was.

“I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t come up with anything else. Because there was nothing else to say. Nothing he’d do would ever bring Tony back, and nothing he’d say would ever bring Tony back. He was just stuck in a loop of grief, guilt and sorrow, and would never get out of it.

Maybe that��s what he deserved, Bucky thought to himself, maybe that was his punishment for Tony sacrificing his life only so he could live.

“Anyway, I found this while going through his stuff…” Y/N handed him a little flash drive taking Bucky out of that wallowing pit. “I really think you need to see it.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at Y/N as she wiped away tears. “What’s on it?”

She shook her head. “It's not my place to tell,” and gently she took Bucky’s still open palm and closed his fingers around the little device. “Please,” Y/N sniffled looking from their clasped hands back up at him and gave Bucky a tight smile. “Don’t be a stranger. I’d love to get to know you.”

And then she left. Her black trench coat billowed around her in the soft spring wind. He watched as she picked her sister up in her arms, and Morgan’s little legs and hands wrapped around Y/N in a secure hug. Brown eyes met Bucky, and a little hand raised in a wave. He waved right back.

That night he went to the hotel the Stark’s had so generously placed everyone who had been decimated and newly brought back or who had arrived at Tony’s memorial. Most of them didn't have a place to stay. Bucky was one of them.

He felt Sam approach before his strong hand clapped on his right shoulder.

“You gonna be okay?”

Bucky nodded. “It’s just been a long day.”

A deep hearty chuckle, that had an underlying layer of exhaustion reverberated through the quiet hallway. “You can say that… If you need anything just knock. I’ll probably be up until whenever…”

Sam wasn’t one to really talk about his emotions, but Bucky knew he felt just as much guilt as he did. Maybe not as much, but he could see that emotions and words left unsaid, weighed on his friend’s shoulders.

Sam's door clicked shut, and only then did Bucky turn to his own, swiping the key card, and letting the small happy beep announce that it was open. He stripped off his jacket, combat boots and jeans. Unlike Y/N, he didn’t think Tony would have wanted him there, that’s why he wasn’t in a suit. It had been a last-minute decision when he realized there would never be a time, he’d be able to apologize to the billionaire. Not anymore. So, the least he could do was show respect by supporting the people he’d loved more than anything.

In a black tank top and boxers, Bucky plopped down onto the hotel bed and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. For a good couple of minutes, he stared at it, trying to find answers to unanswerable questions, but once he figured, unless the walls started talking there would be none, he grabbed the jacket and pulled out the flash drive Y/N had given him.

Not only had the whole Stark family been generous enough to grant him a place to stay until they figured out further accommodations, but they’d also given him anything he wanted or needed. A computer had been one of the things. He hadn’t requested it, but Pepper refused him refusing.

“If only to quench the boredom,” the redhead has smiled and slipped the slim rectangle in his hands along with a phone, credit card and a notebook. The last thing was already almost half-filled.

There was no password necessary as the computer camera scanned his facial features and granted him access. He plugged the flash drive in. Only one file resided on it.

With bated breath, he clicked on it. The second he saw Tony, Bucky sat up straighter.

“Hey… Hi… Bucky… I don’t know if you’ll ever see this because… well, because you’re dead,” Tony let out a bitter chuckle. “And I should be happy about it. I feel like I should. But I’m not. I’m not happy about any of this. There’s not much to celebrate nowadays." There was a slight pause as Tony bit his lip and smiled. It looked like he almost didn't want to, but he couldn't help himself. In a moment, Bucky understood why.

“My daughter was born today. My second kiddo. Her name’s Morgan… probably the greatest day of my life… it would be the second greatest had I been able to see Y/N be born, but I gotta do with what I’m given.”

He shook his head and waved a hand around, “I guess that’s why I’m making this. Also, because my therapist said it might help, but I think it’s because of what happened today… I don’t want to live with all of this weighing on me. Ever since that whole thing in Siberia, this has been the one thing on my mind I haven’t been able to push away into some dark corner with the rest of my problems…” he looked up at the camera as if he could see Bucky. “You can’t blame me for how I reacted. You can’t tell me that I was wrong in how I dealt with everything… but you can tell me that I should’ve given you a bit of time to explain yourself.

I know this will sound like an excuse, but the only thing I was thinking was – he already took away the people I love, so I won’t let him take what little I’ve got left… I know how unfair it is… was… but I hope you understand…”

Bucky let a tear freely flow over his scruffy cheek as he nodded. He did. He’d do the same if he had a family. Without. A. Question.

“But here’s the thing,” Tony sighed and looked to the side. “I can’t change the past… not what happened with my parents, not what happened with Thanos… I can’t do anything to bring you all back. And then I started thinking – what if I could go back far enough that I could save you?”

The super-soldier almost felt his heart stop at the thought of Tony risking his life just to save his.

“What if I was able to save you before any of this happened? And I pondered it for quite a while. All of those what-ifs and such… and I came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t. And I know it sounds horrible, but here’s the thing, if I did – I wouldn’t have become the man I am today. There would be no Iron Man, no Stark Industries as they are now, and I wouldn’t have Pep or Y/N or now Morgan… I would've never have become an Avenger if things were even remotely different. I’m not saying it’s easy to come to the terms that it wasn’t you who did that… but I’m saying that every single piece has led me to where I am now. And that also includes you. And if you’re even a little bit like me, which from dad’s stories, I think you are, I know how you’re feeling, so I just want you to know that I forgive you, Bucky. For everything. I read some of your file and yeah…” he dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck man… I get it… I understand it…”

Bucky could see in Tony’s face that he truly did understand. He had been kidnapped and held captive as well. He knew what it was like to do things against his own will and be betrayed by humanity. Hell, he had been betrayed by someone he had considered family.

“And I want you to know I’m sorry too. It’s hard. Knowing everything you ever thought is a lie. I blamed my dad for most of my life for what happened when instead I should’ve been blaming someone else... HYDRA fucked us both over, didn’t they?”

Bucky choked back a sob. “Yeah, they did.”

The high-pitched wail of a child cut through Tony’s words, and he looked at the camera with a soft and genuine smile. “I gotta go, Maguna’s calling. But yeah… I guess that’s all I wanted to say. But if I could ask of you one thing – if you’re watching this, most likely I’m not there to tell this to you in person, so just… take care of them, please. My girls. They’re the one thing in this world that I have left.” And with a delicate smile Tony said ‘bye’, and the screen turned to black.

Bucky cried that night and the following morning. He curled up in his bed and sobbed until he couldn’t breathe, and then he took a warm bath and cried some more with his knees pulled up to his chest and hands in his hair.

That day he cut the long tresses off. It was sloppy and uneven, but it felt good. Like he was letting go of all of the guilt and pain, and he was finally forgiving himself. Sam wasn’t half bad at evening everything out.

That same day he went over to the lake house Pep and Morgan still resided in. As did Y/N.

“She’s in the basement,” Pepper nodded towards a set of stairs and readjusted how her daughter sat on her hip. “She’s been working on one of Tony’s unused patents. Something with nanotech and neurology.”

“Smart girl,” he mumbled and tickled the little sock-clad feet of Morgan, who giggled and tucked her face in her mother’s hair.

Pep laughed and patted Morgan's back. “Just like her dad. Hasn’t even taken a break since last night… would you be so kind and maybe bring her lunch? I just made some lasagna, which you’re more than welcome to as well.”

Without a second to spare, Bucky plated some food, ready to bring Y/N the much-needed fuel. He would’ve left without taking a bite for himself, but Pepper’s disapproving gaze told him he didn’t have a choice.

“No, DUM-E!” he heard her exclaim as he balanced the two portions in his hands. “Fuck, why do you even have that function? You do that again, and I’ll donate you to a community college. Dad didn’t go through with it, but I will; mark my words!”

Metal elbow knocked against the glass door, and it made her spin around.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Bucky apologized in a quiet voice. Rock music had been turned on a low hum, and goggles sat perched on Y/N’s nose before she removed them and beckoned him inside not even glancing in his direction. He heard the band sing something about teenagers and having the living shit scared out of them by them. He chuckled, thinking that teenagers were the least horrifying things on the planet.

“Don’t worry. It’s not something that can’t wait a bit,” she pulled off two heavy-set gloves and threw them onto the table, and immediately stumbled back a bit as her eyes befell on Bucky. “Sorry, I just... you look very different without the uh,” she waved at his head.

“Yeah, I uh, cut it off.”

Y/N snorted and turned back to whatever she had been fixing, pushing a piece of paper away. “I noticed. Oh, shit, sorry,” she motioned to how he was still holding the food and took one of the plates. “You made this?”

“Uh, no. Pepper did. Said you hadn’t eaten in ages and asked to bring you down something.”

She rolled her eyes but gave him a small smile as a thanks and put the plate on the table. “I’m not that bad. I just got carried away.”

He did it without a warning. Bucky just stepped forward as she rambled on about finding some clean forks when he grabbed her by the writs and pulled the woman in his chest. It was the first time he made the first move to hug someone. He pulled Y/N against him and pressed his face in the crook of her neck, muttering never-ending apologies and promises to keep her, Morgan and Pep safe just as her father had asked him to do. She didn’t respond, just wove her own hands around his shoulders and soothed him until he could form a coherent sentence.

Thumbs roughened by battles she should've never been involved in and manual labor because, just like Tony, she always had to be tinkering with something, wiped away tears. “It’s okay,” Y/N whispered. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He pulled in a shuddering breath. “I just needed you to know.”

“I do,” Y/N smiled at him. “And so does he. Now… food?”

After that, he really kept his promise. He didn’t have any external threats to really worry about that could harm Y/N, Pep or Morgan, but Tony’s eldest daughter could be a menace to herself, so Bucky was sure to supply her with water and food and overall company.

They talked about everything under the Sun. Mostly everything beyond the Sun, as he was a huge space nerd, and even in her contacts Y/N had named him ‘Bonky-the-space-Boi’. He’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t flutter every time she sent him a meme or a NASA article while sitting right beside him.

“Maybe you could ask Carol to take you with her when she visits next,” Y/N suggested, chowing down on some duck gyoza and soy sauce. “See the universe for yourself.”

And Bucky had thought of it. He’d met her at Tony’s funeral as well, and had fallen in a two-hour conversation with the woman because there was going to be no meteoroid left unturned. Not when he had the expert available for him. But he shook his head.

“I don’t think I’d be able to stay away for that long.”

“From what? Earth?” Y/N quirked her eyebrow up.

“No, Earth I could live without…”

“Then what?”

“You.”

It was so simple, a single word, yet it held so much weight to it. And at first, Y/N was going to say, if it was because of that promise he’d made to her dad, Bucky had nothing to worry about, but she didn’t. Because in his eyes she could see - that wasn’t it. She could see that when he said ‘you’, he meant that he wouldn’t be able to live a day without her. That any moment she wasn't in his life, was dull and bleak.

Y/N cleared her throat, put down her chopsticks and took Bucky’s hand in hers, slowly intertwining their fingers. “Well… if you do uh decide to visit space someday… I wouldn’t mind going with…”

Bucky swore when she looked at him, all the stars dimmed in shame from just how much her eyes sparkled.

He had asked her out that evening. With half-said words and pieces of rice still stuck in his throat, he had mumbled out something along the lines of ‘would you ever consider going on a date with me’, and Y/N had shaken her head and returned to her food with an ‘I already thought this was a date’.

Still to this day both of them continued to argue when did their relationship truly start – the evening in the basement when they’d confessed their feelings, or the following week when he’d taken her to a quaint little Italian place in Brooklyn; where they’d sat in a corner booth and shared two pizzas.

Bucky said it was the latter. Because it was also the evening when they’d first kissed. She had been the one to initiate it. They were on their way to the Avenger’s tower which had been rebuilt in the memory of her father and to house the new generation of Earth’s mightiest heroes as well. It was also where Bucky resided.

“Do you not want to kiss me?” she asked, chuckling before he could even say a thing. He could hear there was no hurt in her tone, and his breathing evened out a bit, knowing she wasn’t offended. “’ Cause I see you keep glancing at my lips, and I’m just waiting for you to make a move, but any time I try to look at you, you look away.”

Bucky gave her an apologetic smile and squeezed the hand he was holding in his won. “I don’t think it’s too shocking if I say I haven’t kissed anyone since the forties, so ‘m sorry that I’m a bit nervous.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Y/N brought one of her hands to his cheeks, and he practically melted. “There’s nothing wrong with being nervous. I’m nervous too. You just gotta talk to me, ‘cause your eyes are saying one thing, but you’re doing another. I just wanna know if we’re both on the same page… I don’t mind waiting.”

Bucky’s eyes softened at her words. “Really?”

“Of course,” she scoffed as if him doubting that, was the most offensive thing in this world to her. “I want this to be enjoyable for both of us, and putting you in a situation you don’t wanna be in, is not how to achieve that.”

With every passing second, Bucky’s heart beat harder and harder, and despite him giggling, he was terrified to the core. “So, if I said I wanted to kiss you now?”

Y/N shrugged as if she wasn’t about to leap out of her skin from the anticipation. “I’d say I’d be more than up for it. I did say I don’t mind waiting, not that I want to.”

Bucky’s core was shaking as he leaned in. He rested his forehead against hers; her beanie scratched against his skin, but he didn’t mind it much. He didn’t even mind the first flakes of snow that covered the November swept Central Park.

“You gonna kiss me, Buck, or just stare into my eyes?” Y/N teased him, her breath fanning over his face in a white cloud. It smelled of the sweet red wine both of them had drunk. He couldn't wait to taste it on her lips. Never in his life did he think he'd be jealous of a wine glass, but that night he had been.

“I could stare into your eyes forever.”

She snorted. “You’re such a sap… but I kinda like it.”

Bucky smiled as wide as his cheeks would allow before slipping one of his hands to rest on Y/N’s waist and the other cupped her autumn-air touched cheek.

The kiss was more than he ever could have hoped for. It was sweet and short, but it filled Bucky’s soul to the brim. He didn’t know if he believed in souls or God, not after what had happened to him, but what he did believe in is that there was a person out there that was meant just for him.

Not a soulmate that would complete him like a missing puzzle piece, but someone that made him strive to be a better person, someone that would bring only the good out in him and the bad parts… they’d accept and help him find a way to shape them into something worth living for. With that one kiss, Bucky was one hundred percent sure he’d found her.

Y/N pulled back, eyes still closed and a wide smile on her face, and Bucky watched her face intently. “Not bad,” she muttered, “for someone who hasn’t kissed anyone in like eighty years. But you could use some practice.”

Bucky’s whole chest exploded with warmth. “Yeah. And are you offering to be the teacher?”

She opened her Y/E/C eyes and gazed at him; lips pulled in a teasing smirk. “For a good price.”

“And that would be?”

“Another kiss,” her mouth skimmed over his. This time Bucky was the one to press his lips against hers first.

Now any time he wanted affection he’d gently come to Y/N, though never if she’d slipped into work, and he’d lean down to her ear and whisper his wish. He wanted to be respectful of her space and boundaries much like she was of his. Sometimes he still whisked his hand away from her if she touched him a bit too quickly and unexpectedly. Once he’d realize what had happened, he’d inch his fingers along Y/N’s forearm and intertwine them.

‘Sorry,’ he’d say with a squeeze of his hand.

‘Me too,’ she’d squeeze right back with an apologetic smile.

So, he always had to make sure she wanted his affection.

“Bucky, you never have to ask if you can kiss me or hug me,” she responded one late evening as she pecked his lips and rested her back against his chest. Brooklyn Nine-Nine played in the background. “I always want to kiss you and hug you.”

And although he tried to settle it in his mind, that he needn’t question whether she wanted him, because for some weird (in his mind) reason Y/N wanted him in every way, there was a thing he wanted a solid confirmation on.

“Can we sleep together?” his question came out as an uncertain whisper, voice trembling.

Y/N chuckled as Jake Peralta smashed through the window from a zipline and busted the bad guys. “Of course,” she said. “I kinda expected you to stay over. It’s snowing like crazy right now.” And it was. Behind the window of her house, an actual blizzard raged on. Pep and Morgan were out of town for that weekend visiting her side of parents. Y/N had insisted they stay over there and had actually threatened Happy if he tried to even sit in a car. She wasn’t going to let anyone get hurt. Besides, Christmas was in two days. They’d all make it back just in time.

“I wasn’t gonna let you drive in this kind of weather,” Y/N said, trying to reassure Bucky that he was more than welcome to snuggle up with her and spend the night. But it wasn’t what he was asking.

“No, I meant can we… sleep together?”

Instantly, her head went to the side only to see him looking at his lap. Her heart stuttered in her chest, not just at the thought that Bucky wanted her in that kind of a way, but because he asked. Because he wanted to know if she was ready to be intimate with him to the highest degree.

“Bucky,” she lifted his face so their eyes could meet. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

There was no judgement of having asked that question, there was no mockery of him being shy and scared to bring it up. All he could see was Y/N making sure he was certain in what he asked. He fell a little more in love with her.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “I think – I know, I’m ready. I wanna be with you… in every possible way… do you want to?”

She nodded her head maybe a bit too eagerly, but there was no shame in it. “As long as you’re completely sure.”

Bucky knew there was nothing in this world he was more certain of.

Y/N switched off the TV and rose from the couch, her hand extended for him to grab. Both of them were filled with nerves and excitement as she led him through the house, up the stairs and to her room. Fairy lights had been left on just so she wouldn’t have to walk inside a pitch-black room, but unintentionally it created the perfect mood – gentle, kind and trusting.

“Guide me, Bucky,” she kissed right below his ear and wove her hands around his middle. “I want you to tell me and show me what you like.”

His touches started out trembling, slow and unsure, but soon enough, as he moved Y/N’s hands and allowed himself to show her mouth where he liked to be caressed the most, they became greedy and demanding.

They demanded to feel more of her, so he removed the shirt that had been covering her body, they were hungry to roam over her skin, so both flesh and metal slipped across every curve and dip in their way, eagerly memorizing how she shuddered and responded, how she became pliable in his fingers.

He didn’t know that it was Stark who years ago had sent over to Wakanda his nanotech patent, so Shuri could one day implement it in his arm. He didn’t know Y/N had been doing the final tweaks before Bucky was called over to the other country on the same day he’d made the promise to keep her safe. He didn’t know it was because of Tony he was able to touch and feel and relish in being touch and felt. But the day he found out about it, he swore all over again to never let go of his word.

Their first time had been soft and tender and filled with reassurances and breathless love confessions. When Y/N had touched the shoulder where his metal arm connected to real flesh, Bucky almost started crying. Her nails were digging into the scarred flesh much like his own had at one point, but they weren't trying to pry that horrid silver appendage that he once owned away. HYDRA had had to restrain him in the chair and sedate him to repair the damage he’d done to their newest weapon. Bucky had practically ripped his arm off anew that time leaving his skin in bloody scraps. But Y/N was holding onto him like if she didn’t, she’d be the one to fall apart, that somehow someone would rip her away from him, and there was no way she would allow that to happen. She bit down on the joint as she came soothing the sting with her tongue.

That night (or rather that morning), after they’d tried every possible position before Y/N had exhausted all of her energy, Bucky watched her sleep on his chest, her right palm cradling his left shoulder. She let out a small snore and furrowed her eyebrows. Whatever she was dreaming about, she was not agreeing with it. Bucky huffed and pushed away a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead. Instantly the lines between her brows disappeared.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered as the Sun slowly rose. He thought his only witness had been the quiet of her room, but the small ‘I love you too’ proved him wrong.

Bucky had never been the white-picket-fence kind of a guy, not even before the war. And he wasn’t one either now. But he did want a family, he did want to belong somewhere... with someone. And he’d found that with Y/N.

What had started off as a promise to her father, had morphed into a vow to himself. Bucky looked over to his left where Y/N had her head resting on a white cloud of a pillow, Y/H/C hair sprawled all across it.

Three years later to the day, with Christmas fast approaching, they found themselves in the exact same position as they had been in her house, this time, in the Avenger’s tower. Their frames were covered by the fluffiest and warmest duvet ever known to humanity. Bucky wouldn't allow anything less. ‘I’ll keep her safe,’ his thoughts rang, ‘because I love her’.

It was as if she could feel him thinking. Two Y/E/C eyes blearily blinked open, trying to focus in on Bucky. “You okay?” she whispered sighing and rolling closer to snuggle deeper into his chest. She shivered when his metal hand trailed down her naked spine. “Nightmares?”

“No.”

“Then why are you up at,” she leaned over to his side where the clock sat, “5:30 in the morning?”

“Jus’… thinking.”

She raised her eyebrow but didn’t pry. Bucky would tell her in his own time. “You should get some sleep,” Y/N rested back into his side. “You won’t be able to get any until he turns eighteen.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh and allowed a warm hand to weave away from her waist to her stomach. “I think you’re the one that needs sleep the most.”

Instantly Y/N winced and glanced down. “Yeah, well I woke up because you woke up, and now I’m up because someone likes to fucking assault my bladder. I swear he already loves you more than me.”

Bucky chuckled and slipped under the covers. If he wasn’t dead tired, he would’ve taken Y/N for another round, especially as he gazed over her bare chest. But he didn’t. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her round belly and addressed the person growing inside there. “Hey, Anthony, please let your mom sleep. You know she needs it. It’s how she’s keeping you safe and strong.”

“You do too,” Y/N whispered holding Bucky’s cheek in her palm once he emerged. “We’re both in this together, you know.”

If this had been the first time, she’d ever said those words, he was sure he would’ve cried. He had cried. Nobody in his life had trusted him to the degree Y/N did. Not to love or keep or hold or touch.

“You already do, Bucky,” she had wiped his tears away the day she told him he was going to be a father. “Every day you keep Pep and Maguna safe. You keep me safe… you’ve kept your promise… you’ve always taken care of us… what makes you think this will be different?” a small laugh escaped her when he finally smiled. “We’re in this together. You and me. We’ll figure it out. You'll keep them safe too.”

They still hadn’t grasped everything, not fully at least; every day was filled with new challenges and obstacles, but if there was one thing Bucky always had, it was Y/N’s touch to guide him.

With a hand on her huge stomach and a kick from their boy against Bucky’s palm, he fell asleep cocooned in the warmth of their bed with the soft winter layer protecting New York.

Y/N laid her palm over his. Yeah, Bucky loved touch.

P.S. Thirteen-years-later Bucky could finally understand why teenagers were scary.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy @pxrrishly @parker-barnes-af @skulliebythesea @california-grown @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @belongsto-prachi @hello-i-am-insane

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28

A/N: woo, am I on a roll! All this Seb content is giving me life! I might have something for Star Wars with Kylo Ren/ Ben Solo that I’m thinking of writing since I’ve seen the movie now :)

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. my tags are always open :)

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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 4 years ago

Text

Why So Jaded? Chapter 3

Chapter 3! Woo! In case you missed it, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, FFN and AO3 Enjoy!

Part 3

Buddy Pine had always had more than one plan. Getting caught and working for Phillip on his dime had been his contingency plan if the nanochip thing had backfired. But he never expected Phillip to be so accommodating or so generous. But having Violet be the liaison was the icing on the cake and to have her be his heir apparent was a fitting twist considering their shared history and he had had no problems with that part of the contract. He hadn't been this productive since before the incident a decade ago. And for the last few weeks, almost a month, the hours following her visits were always the most exciting as far as progress was concerned. He was finding his spark again and keeping alive and well, he even starting drafting and designing from scratch again. This was working out perfectly.

All he needed was time. Time to prove to Violet at least that he was not the same man he was a decade ago. He had been honest when he told her that Syndrome died. Because a part of himself did die that day and he had no interest in reviving him and his attraction to her was undeniable.

"Good morning Ms. Parr," Buddy greeted when he heard the door open at 9:00am which had been Violet's chosen time to come in the mornings. He had learned to recognize her walking pattern, it was smooth and fluid yet light and precise, almost cat like.

"Good morning Mr. Pine," Violet replied evenly. "Mr. Sebastian sends his congratulations on the nanochip redesign, it has increased workload by your projections exactly and has earned you an additional 1.4 million dollars as of today." Violet informed him. Happy because it had earned her the same amount as well since she and Buddy would both be getting 15% each of all the sales, leaving Phillip and his company to earn the remaining seventy percent.

"Excellent, what else?" Buddy inquired, knowing Violet preferred to lead with good news before delivering the bad.

"Mr. Sebastian now has 5 new projects to add to your ever increasing roster." Violet informed him as she made a swiping motion from her tablet to his as his own tablet and electronics received the new project data before she rubbed at her temple and winced.

"You ok?" Buddy inquired as he watched her thoughtfully.

"Yeah, just a bad headache," Violet answered dismissively. "Now Mr. Salazar wants to know exactly how much titanium alloy you will need for the VIC project? And what tensile strength will you need to have the silicon wafers at?" She continued as she went down the list in her own tablet.

"I'm going to have to look over my calculations again and I'll shoot you an email with the specifics. How long have you had the headache?" Buddy inquired as he watched her closely, getting flashbacks of when Mirage had similar headaches and how much she used to suffer with them.

"Why does my headache matter? It's a headache, it will go away eventually and with enough Advil." Violet defended, her irritation clear in the way she seemed to snap at him because the pain was sapping every ounce of patience she had today.

"Supers don't usually just get headaches that can be cleared up with over the counter pain killers, they usually need something stronger, especially with your skill set as a Super, you're more likely to have inflammation in the central cortex." Buddy blurted out before looking up to see a practically seething Violet, he was at a loss as to why before it dawned on him of how he would know something like that. He could see it in her eyes, they burned a luminescent shade of ultraviolet for a moment. He could see that she wanted to kill him and the static electricity in the lab was so high the electronics started to warble and wane.

Violet was livid, how dare he have the audacity to speak of such things! She wanted to know how many supers he had lured to their deaths, how many had he interrogated or tortured and experimented on for his research before zeroing in on her family. She wanted to beat those answers out of him. She struggled not to do just that, she struggled to keep herself composed as her grip actually crushed her tablet which caused Buddy to jump and step away before she had to pull her rage back and put an emotionally void mask to her facial features as she struggled to remain in control and not kill him.

"If you have anything else you need for your work, you can contact my assistant, Leslie." Violet managed to bite out before turning and leaving quickly, keeping on her toes to keep her heels from making any more noise on the floors, once out of the lab she raced to the elevator and was thankful it was empty when it finally reached her. She leaned against the elevator wall once the doors closed and tried her best not to have a panic attack as she could feel the panic whirl in her chest and make it hard to breathe. These headaches were getting out of hand and were wearing her down and she cursed herself for having such an obvious and light trigger that he seemed to know exactly how to set off. She barely managed to make it to her own office to her safe room before she broke down and cried, an instinctual forcefield encompassing her like a security blanket. How could she keep acting like none of it happened and he was just another one of Phillip’s colleagues?

Back in the lab Buddy was kicking himself for not seeing how that could have backfired. And for the first time there was something added to his guilt, shame as he was cussing himself out for messing up so bad.

Meanwhile Phillip who was watching and listening to the conversation via security cameras was practically running to Violet's office. He had a hunch this would happen eventually and he had to make sure she would be ok. He got to her office and went straight to the safe room he had specifically built for her. He keyed in his code and the book shelf concealing the safe room moved away to reveal Violet sitting down and curled up in a ball, her knees to her chest as she hugged them and rocked herself, he could see she was shaking but he knew better than to try and touch her now, the forcefield around her would keep him from physically touching her. He couldn't hear her because the forcefield kept any noise she was making inside and would thus make talking to her impossible until she took it down. But what he could do is sit as close to her as possible and wait for her to notice him there.

After a moment she did look up to see him there and let down the forcefield before he crawled to her and put his arm around her shoulders and held her close and did everything in his power- super or not- to comfort her as she crawled into his lap and held onto him tightly.

"I'm sorry," He whispered into her hair as he kissed the crown of her head as she continued to sniffle into his shoulder as the other arm was wrapped tightly around her as he took up rocking her himself. He could count on one hand the number of times this had happened before and he was just grateful she let him in this time.

"How did he know?! How does he know shit like that?! He shouldn't know that, especially about me," Violet cried, feeling vulnerable in the worst way and feeling like she was a little kid again. With that henchman as he was hunting her through the forest and was hiding in the water. She felt like she was drowning in anguish and anger and rage and hurt and heartbreak and she just wanted her dad to hug her and hold her in his big strong arms up to his massive chest and make her feel perfectly safe again but for now, Phillip’s arms and chest would have to do and she was grateful for him.

"I don't know, but I'll find out ok? It's going to be ok, I promise, I swear on my life it's going to be ok. Where are those pills we made for you?" Phillip asked, trying to get her to look him in the eye as he reached for her face and held it in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away her tears and streaking mascara.

"I only have 2 left, I was saving them for when it got really bad." Violet tried to explain as she buried her head deeper into his chest, hoping the counter pressure would give her some relief. Phillip pulled her hair down from the bun and laced his fingers together behind her head and applied pressure into his chest, trying to help give her more relief.

"Does that help?" He asked.

"Yes, thank you Phil." Violet said in thanks as she reveled in the relief the counter pressure was providing as she did her best to regain her composure. She hated feeling like this, let alone be seen like this. But Phillip was special. He never thought less of her or think of her as weaker. It just helped him appreciate that even though she was a Super, she was still human and thus, imperfect and had weaknesses and limits. Phillip counted himself lucky to be able to witness this side of her and he had worked so hard just to get to this point with her.

"Now where are the pills? I'll make sure you have more before these wear off," Phillip offered.

"In my top left desk drawer." Violet answered before Phil managed to get up and pull her up with him before he carried her over to her desk and simply set her down on it then looked through her drawers for the meds before he found them and gave them to her as she used her coffee still on her desk to down them both.

"Have you been able to get any sleep lately?" He asked as he noted the dark circles under her eyes that she had tried to cover up with makeup.

"Yeah, I got a whole six hours last night," She answered.

"How much Ambian did it take to get that?" He asked worriedly.

"A hundred and twenty milligrams."

"Fuck Vi, that much should have put you in a coma." He realized.

"I know, but I just wanted to sleep so badly that I kept taking 2 tabs every hour until I finally fell asleep." Violet explained as she slowly got up and sat in her desk chair before letting her head rest on the desk's surface.

"Vi, why didn't you tell me it was getting this bad?" Phillip asked as he leaned against her desk next to her.

"Because there are a thousand and one other things that are more important," Violet groaned as she continued to lay her head on the desk and waited for the painkillers to kick in while she focused on not throwing up.

"Violet, I would not have the best doctors cooped up in a lab working 14 hour days trying to come up with the best solution possible if I didn't think that you and your health were important if not equally or even more important than my own. Promise me that you'll tell me when things are getting bad or if things get worse." Phillip urged her.

"Ok, ok, I promise," Violet said as she steadied her breathing, the painkillers beginning to take effect.

"Thank you, now I want you to do me a favor, take a few days off, go to the spa, get a massage or something and relax, read a good book and don't use your powers. Because the more you use them the worse this seems to get. Can you do that for me?" Phillip prodded.

"Yeah, I can do that, but what about Syn..Mr. Pine?" Violet asked, catching herself.

"Don't worry about it, I will deal with him personally if I have to and he will answer to me about this incident." Phillip placated. "And you start now, I'll go down to the lab to get you your meds, just stay here."

"Deal," Violet agreed as she kicked off her heels for her feet to rest.

Phillip went down to the lab and got Violet the special painkillers that have been designed for her and checked in on the sleep aid they had been also working on for her and got as much of that as they had as he informed them of her recent dose as the doctors rewrote the prescription. It was highly unusual for an employer to take such an intense interest in his employee but Philip considered this extremely special circumstances because Violet was so much more than an employee, she was a friend. A true one he felt and while he knew that Violet didn’t need him, he was becoming more and more dependent on her and was still hoping that when it was all said and done, she would stay with him and while they both had agreed not to pursue a romantic relationship, it was awfully hard for him to keep things strictly business between them. Especially after that first incident when they had been locked in his safe room for a week. It got very physical then and he had found himself craving her more and more and he had time to win her over. He also dealt with anything and everything having to do with Violet he did himself. It's not that he didn't trust his other secretaries and assistants but, he felt better knowing that because he handled it, it was done right.

He saw her off before going to Buddy's lab himself.

"Mr. Sebastian, I was wondering when you would come and see me," Buddy remarked, despite the slight nervous edge to his voice. He had been wondering what ramifications there would be for upsetting Phillip's little 'pet', remembering what lengths he used to go to when it came to anyone or anything that messed with Mirage.

"Well Mr. Pine, it seems you've been busy, making exceptional hardware, offending my staff," Phillip listed off casually, but there was quiet rage to his voice that Buddy immediately picked up on.

"I didn't mean to offend her. I just noticed she was in pain, I didn't mean to upset her," Buddy defended as Phillip took a long hard look at him.

"I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be honest in your answer. Do you have any design or intention of bringing harm in any way, shape or form to Ms. Parr?" Phillip gravely questioned.

"Of course not," Buddy answered.

"But given your history, especially with the Parr's..." Phillip began.

"I know, I'm the last person who should be put anywhere close to any of them but things change, especially in the time that’s passed." Buddy countered.

"I'm aware that you know a lot about Supers, and I know better than to ask exactly how you know..." Phillip began.

"Natalia," Buddy interrupted. "Natalia, or Mirage rather, had similar powers that Violet has, Tali suffered from extremely painful and debilitating headaches too, they were so bad she used to "joke" about drilling a hole into her head to relieve the pressure. Whenever she used her powers, especially her invisibility extensively. Supers are wired differently, they even have extra brain components, Supers who can turn themselves invisible, tend to have larger central cortex's. It puts pressure on the rest of the brain, that's why the headaches are so intense and hard to cure." Buddy explained. "That's how I know about it. I almost had a cure too at several points. But everything I came up with impaired her powers and she always needed to use her powers. Always. The Agency..." Buddy began as he did his best to fight the tears that came to sting at the corner of his eyes at all the memories came flooding back and what surprised him was to feel all that rage he had against The Agency rear it's ugly head as he fought to remain composed and in control of himself and his emotions.

"The Agency knew damn well it was hurting her, hell it was killing her and they didn’t give a single fuck. The needs of the many always outweigh the needs of a few right? And it’s not like she didn’t want to do the missions, she always did and it made her happy to feel useful and helpful and as long as I could come up with the right painkiller for the headaches and keep her in the field, she was happy. All Supers, the good, the bad and everything in between, they always have an itch that only Super work can scratch. They just sent her on mission after mission all while she was working for me, because she had the skill set to be useful in the more "clandestine" work and out of the public eye. To the point the villains never knew she was ever involved in their downfall. No matter what I did, whatever I provided them or tried to find other Supers to take her place on all these missions, they liked to remind me and her who she really belonged to and it took turning on me and exposing me to the fullest and deepest degree for her to break free of them and finally get the out she needed. I lost track and count of how many times and all the different ways I proposed to her, but she never accepted because she knew that The Agency could turn on her if she didn’t walk the line and it would have made both of us targets. Especially when Supers were under ban, she was used even though she was relatively young when all that happened because she was older than me by a decade and she was barely a teenager then. Of course she’s fine now, or so I assume. She’s perfectly fine being a trophy wife for just another rich, powerful billionaire playboy because there's so many of us these days and I used to lay awake at night and wonder what he had that I didn’t that got her to say yes to him but not me." Buddy revealed. Remembering how he used to cradle her in his arms and rock her and squeeze her head to give her counterpressure and swear he would find a cure if it was the last thing he did and the beautiful but fatally flawed relationship they had. But it was still...never enough.

“I see how you are with her. You depend on her a lot. And as much as you like seeing the way I react to her and act in her presence. She’s practically your everything and I know that you know that you’re pretty screwed without her. It would probably take what? A hundred? Two hundred people to do all the things she does on her own by herself. She’s irreplaceable. Funny isn’t it? We get all this money and power and make ourselves as desirable and needed as possible while individually independent as we can be, then a girl comes along and she makes it all feel useless and worthless and they make you realize that the world doesn’t revolve around you and that you aren’t the most important person in the room, let alone the world or the universe- that they are. And no matter what we do, what we give, what we invent, how we try to help- at the end of the day and when all is said and done, they don’t need us, and it stings like a motherfucker. But if you’re lucky- they’ll want you and if they want you and genuinely care about you, then that’s all that matters.” Buddy confessed, not sure why he was telling Phillip all this. But he felt... absolved to a degree to get it off his chest and he wished with all his might that someone had told him all this fifteen years ago.

“If you had a time machine, would you do anything differently?” Phillip asked.

“Absolutely. I’d do everything differently. I would have dropped my grudge against Mr. Incredible at a very early age and recognized that I had a very unhealthy obsession with him and gotten my ass into therapy much sooner than I did. I still would have built the empire. But I would have tried not buying Tali. Because that was my fatal mistake, I tried to buy her with a salary that almost equaled mine. I got her stock options, I got her investments and I got her so set up that she technically didn’t need me or anyone else but I did it because I didn’t know how else to try to woo her because I will admit I'm not the most handsome, charming guy and I overcompensate and I would have never used her the way I did and I would have just let her be, no strings, no contracts, nothing. Just let her do whatever she wanted. I realized after the fact that she never really let herself really be her true self around me. The line between Natalia and Mirage was pretty blurred to the point, I never knew the difference between the two and I was foolish enough to think they were one and the same. The altruistic Supers are always the same person in and out of the supersuit. But the best ones, the most effective ones are the ones that you would never suspect are their Super persona.” Buddy revealed.

“So what do you advise?” Phillip asked thoughtfully, intrigued yet pleased he was getting all this from Buddy.

“Never make your relationship with her about the money or the power or any of that bullshit. And don’t make the possibility of staying with you about what she could earn or inherit or anything like that. That's ultimately an insult to their character. Because our greed doesn’t rub off on people like them, they're surprisingly content with little, it comes from their upbringing which more often than not is really humble. In fact make it effortlessly easy for her to walk away from you at any point in time without any retaliation, without backlash and every good thing you've ever promised, make good on it and make it so that the only reason she would stay is what she genuinely feels for you. Make it about honesty and communication and honest to goodness chemistry and the like. And if you’re keeping anything from her, remember that every secret you keep from her is a reason for her not to fully trust you. And if you have any superpowers, either good or bad, never use them on her if you don’t absolutely have to, like if it would mean something like saving her life or if you have, stop and be honest and upfront about all of it , the good, the bad and the ugly and even all the parts that make you wonder if she would even look or speak to you if she knew about. She’s a Super who’s used to spy work, her life’s work is about secrets. She won’t want any in her real relationships. I knew one Super, he was a Villain, and he was known as the Love Machine. He had the power to seduce anyone he wanted within a radius of like, half a mile, it was ridiculous. Then he met a Super who was immune to him. And the more he tried to use them on her, the more repellent to him she felt and when he was finally genuine with her, she never believed him because of his powers and believed that any feeling she had towards him, were because of his powers, when in fact, the feelings were genuine, but she still refused to believe it and when she left him- he ended up drinking himself to death. And I was stupid enough to not learn that with Tali until it was far too late.” Buddy admonished as Phillip simply stood there and considered him thoughtfully.

"Come with me," Phillip invited as he turned and escorted Buddy two floors up to where he had the doctors working on Violet's condition.

Buddy looked over the schematics and her last MRI scans and fought not to cry or gasp. "Oh no. She's way worse that Mirage ever got, is she dying?" Buddy asked Phillip.

Phillip took a deep breath and nodded yes.

"Does she know she's dying?"

"No, because we are on the verge of curing her, no use in upsetting her now," Phillip answered.

"Well what are you using to cure her?" Buddy pressed before Phillip wearily showed him what they were currently using and what else they had already tried and what they were about to try as Buddy's spark was like a bolt of lightning in his brain as it kicked into gear.

"I can fix this, I can fix her," Buddy claimed. "Give me a few weeks working with these guys and maybe a few months of trials but give me access to my old data banks that The Agency took and I can have a cure," Buddy promised.

Phillip paused to look Buddy over before nodding again. "Ok, but you better deliver Pine." Phillip went over to a control panel and gave Buddy access to the databases containing all the research that had been confiscated from Buddy's Island the decade prior along with all the research that had been done since then, along with access to the Medical Lab he was currently in and a security tag so he could go from his own lab to the medical lab on his own. "By the way, Violet is now on medical leave, Mrs. Tyner will be your liaison for everything until she gets back. But anything you need for this project you will tell Tyner and you will keep Ms. Parr out of it. Understood?" Phillip posed.

"Understood," Buddy agreed before turning and bringing up all his old data and instinctively taking control of the medical lab.

Phillip left work and went to a florist and got some nice flowers before he went over to Violet’s apartment to check in on her.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Violet asked as she came to the door.

“I came to check on you. Are you feeling better?” He asked hopefully.

“I am, come on in. I take it these are for me.” Violet smiled at her flowers before he gladly handed them over to her as she took them and got a vase from the top of her fridge to put them in.

“I got a spa day planned for tomorrow.” She informed him happily.

“Good, I hope you enjoy it. You’ve earned it.” Phillip grinned.

“Aww, thank you.” She cooed.

“So, can I talk to you as Phil instead of Mr. Sebastian?” Phillip carefully asked.

“Of course, Phil is always allowed to talk about whatever he wants to.” Violet grinned happily as she got a bottle of wine out.

About four months into this assignment, “Phil” and “Vi” were code for when they just wanted to be themselves and friends and not as employer and employee or Super and Protectee or handler and asset.

“So I talked to Mr. Pine about the incident this morning.” Phillip began.

“That’s a Mr. Sebastian tone though.” Violet noted with a frown as she went ahead and opened the bottle of wine because “Phil” and “Vi” often Netflix, Pinot Noir and Chill kind of “friends”.

“Ok so I asked Buddy about it and he confessed that how he knew about it, was Mirage, or as he referred to her- Natalia or Tali for short.” He furthered as he gratefully took the glass of wine as he took the seat at her breakfast bar and took off his suit jacket and tie as she hopped up in the other and turned to face him.

“Oh, so they were very intimate. I’m her protégé and I don’t even get to call her by her real name.” Violet professed as she made a face before she took a big sip of her wine.

“Yeah, so turns out that’s how he knows about the enlarged central cortex because she suffered headaches just like you and in between his own supervillain agenda, he was working on a cure for her. He knows that all Supers who use invisibility have that. So, it wasn’t nearly as awful as I thought it was going to be. And he reassured me that he harbors you no ill will and has no designs on you.” Phill assured her.

“Do you believe him?” Violet raised a curious brow at that.

“I’m not sure.” Phillip answered.

“Good because I don’t.” Violet insisted.

“What would it take for you to believe him?” Phil asked.

“His dead body.” Violet answered honestly which got Phil to crack a crooked grin.

“Ok. Well maybe one of these days you’ll get that and I hope it brings you closure and peace.” Phillip offered before he clinked his wine glass with hers.

“Thank you Phil. That’s very sweet.” Violet grinned. “So can I jump your bones while you’re here?” Violet asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Hell yeah.” He adamantly as they came together quickly and kissed passionately as they moved each other to the bedroom where they spent the remainder of the afternoon in each other’s embrace as Phillip was proud of himself for not using his powers to get her in the mood. While he knew that Buddy had spoken the truth, he would be taking Buddy’s advice, but he still had his own ideas about how and when he was going to implement them and once they were both sated they laid in bed and looked up at the painting that Violet had installed on her ceiling in the apartment as Phillip sweetly combed her soft hair with his fingertips as Violet simply basked in the afterglow of a great orgasm. Orgasms with Phillip were always out of this world because of his powers and she didn’t mind one bit he used them for that purpose.

“Want to go out to dinner?” Phillip asked.

“Sure.” Violet readily agreed as she got up and went to put on her supersuit.

“Come on Vi, don’t put that stupid thing on! You won’t need it!” Phillip complained.

“Phil, we’ve been through this a thousand times. Every time I don’t wear it, I end up needing it, every single time, without fail. At this point I put it on to make sure that nothing happens and that I don’t need it.” Violet argued as she continued to pull it up over he naked body.

“Just one more time, let’s just try one more time. Please? Pretty pretty please?” Phil begged from the bed as he sat up and steepled his hands like he was praying.

“Where did you want to go out to dinner?” Violet asked as she paused in putting it on as the top half simply hung around her waist.

“Wherever you want to go that you’ll feel you won’t need to wear that.” Phil answered as he gestured to the suit.

“Fine, Sumo’s.” Violet answered as she pushed the suit off her legs.

“Yes!” Phil cheered happily.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” He thanked her as he came over and kissed her soundly before he got redressed in his suit as she slipped into a sexy little dress to go out with him to dinner and once they got to Sumo’s, they happily got all kinds of Sushi and Ramen and other Dim Sum dishes.

And while they were eating Violet noticed she felt especially warm and fuzzy and frankly almost love drunk towards Phillip but knew he was using his powers to make her feel that way as she mentally fought those feelings because she knew they weren’t real, and not genuinely hers. Mirage had always warned her that mixing business with pleasure had it’s perks but also it’s dangers and warned her to never, ever go to bed with someone she wouldn’t feel absolutely free walking away from in the morning, let alone free to put a bullet in their head if she needed to. And that if at any moment she felt that she was in too deep and too attached that that’s when the highest danger would inevitably come and always remind herself that it was still, just a job, just a mission, just an asset and that if at any moment, he could turn from asset- to target. And she needed to be removed enough emotionally to pull the trigger herself if need be.

But one look at the way Phillip was looking at her told her that he was already too attached to her. But she needed him to be for this mission to be a success. He had asked her to be his girlfriend several times over by now and she had always turned him down and instead told him to ask her once her contract was up. And that seemed to satisfy him. And they agreed that their relationship would remain ‘friends with benefits’ until then and that they were open and free to pursue other romantic relationships until then. Thus- why Phillip used the ballerina/model types like tissues. But Violet felt that if he honestly, truly loved her- he would wait for her, wait however long it would take. And every time he used a girl, it was another layer added between her heart and his and honestly helped her keep her heart and her emotions to herself.

She still spent the night at his place though and Phillip gladly sent her in his Rolls-Royce to the spa and even ordered extra treatments for her and paid for her visit and Violet left that spa looking and feeling like a goddess before she insisted that she could come in on Monday which Phillip caved and agreed to.

On Sunday though, she was sent new medication which Phillip himself dropped off and once he left she was sent a video by Leslie of the conversation that Phillip had had with Buddy and Violet just watched it over and over again. She was blown away by Buddy's observations and his insights had been spot on and completely accurate and most importantly, completely honest and genuine and for the first time, she believed him. She knew that Phillip used his powers on Buddy to get that confession and thus why Phillip left it at that. And it was because of that video that she began to let go of her own grudge against him and slowly, but surely, she started to look at him and not see Syndrome anymore. Just...Buddy Pine, a colleague.

#Why So Jaded?#Why So Jaded Chapter 3 #Synlet #Buddy Pine #Bartholomew Pine #Violet Parr #Phillip Sebastian #love triangle here we come #Corporate espionage AU #Modern AU

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heeres-suffering · 4 years ago

Text

Be More Alluring: a Personality Swap AU

[pic description and source will be at the bottom of this post, under the read more]

Start of summary:

“You need to be more alluring.”

"... don’t you mean attractive?”

“I do not. Your attractiveness is adequate, Brooke; if you want to mask your apparently latent queerness, you have to make them want you straight. Isn’t that why your step-father defended you?”

Brooke Lohst is a loser.

But you know what? That was okay.

She always knew she was a weird one. The intensity of her affection for puppies, picture books, and near-constant daydreaming has lasted well-past a normalcy she can’t seem to grasp; when coupled with her inability to befriend anyone (besides the similarly self-identified loser Michael Mell), it’s not a surprise the rest of her peers have left her behind.

However, there were... ah, worse things in her life to worry about then some mild bullying. She liked her passion well enough, and all of her true insecurities went largely unnoticed, so any insults or weird looks rarely lingered in her mind. It’s not like she was a constant target either, which helped a lot. All in all, she just planned to hunker down, wait out the awkwardness of High School like everyone else, and move on to the rest of her life...

Except.

When Brooke develops a crush on a girl she’s never talked to, after years of avoiding fairy tale romance and trying not to think about the inevitability of marriage (or how finicky her attraction to boys is in the first place), it feels like her whole world is about to cave in. She’d do anything to make sure her parents, especially daddy, never find out... including buying an edible super computer from the loudest, tiniest guy in school.

End of summary.

Alright!

Hi, hello, it’s Mod Seb, and here’s an AU I’ve been rolling around for a few days! You are free to do with this concept whatever you want, but I wanted to introduce it with a good chunk of the info I’ve already worked out in my head.

So. As the CWs are... too numerous, I’m going to go with a blanket “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” label and encourage you not to read the rest of this if you have any big darkfic triggers that could be upset by mere mention; this isn’t a fic tho, so descriptions of anything awful won’t last long.

Although, I will mention upfront that Brooke isn’t a binary lesbian. I know the description might read like I’m setting her up to be 100% homosexual; she’s bi with a strong preference for girls, and anyone who presents soft enough in gender or appearance. If it wasn’t for the end-game pairings, her unfamiliarity with smaller details/history of the LGBTQ+ community, and general “gay newb” status, she’d likely ID as a bi lesbian!

(ships and everything else under the Read More)

Okay. That out of the way, there’s quite a number of pairings; I’m pretty sure it’s a super polyamorous and sexual AU, though you’re free to change this list as much as you’d like:

[bolded are end-game ships. italics physically hook up at least once. strike-through means they were in a relationship but break-up in some way before the ending. (H) stands for healthy, while (T) is toxic and/or noncon. underlined characters are pining for the other and may never confess their true feelings]

Brooke/Christine (H), Brooke/Rich (H), Brooke/Jenna (H), Brooke/Michael (H), Brooke/Chloe (T), Brooke/her Daddy (T), Brooke/Squip (H), Brooke/Jeremy (soft T at first bc of mirrored canon-compliant manipulation, H later on), Brooke/Squip/Jeremy (H), Brooke/Squip/Jeremy/Rich (H), Rich/Moses (H), [insert every form of Rich/Mo/Squip/Jeremy here] (H), Jeremy/Chloe (T), Jeremy/Michael (H), Michael/Christine (H), Michael/Christine/Mr. Heere (H; no, seriously), Madeline/Brooke (H)

This is, of course, a role swap AU where Brooke and Jeremy trade places based on my personal lore for their home lives. I always have some pretty fucked ideas as I don’t imagine MB is a great place with great adults, and I pick and choose which parts of canons I use and which I don’t.

There is no definite ending planned in mind as this isn’t an outline; it’s meta (or an imagine or w/e) for an AU that you’re free to do whatever with.

So,

The big difference is that Brooke was picked by Michael, while Jeremy was picked by Chloe. Jeremy is trans and hadn’t come out yet; if Chloe had known he was a boy, she wouldn’t have grabbed him. In contrast, Michael’s never gave a shit about potential friends genders.

Jer and B’s personalities... are altered some. Not ALL the way, but kiiinda fusing into their roles, kinda tweaked (I'll get back to that).

The main point of this for me was Brooke/Squip/Jeremy, with B/Jer having a MUCH stronger focus than in canon, and a really bad Chloe acting as one of the major villains.

Michael gets roped into Chloe’s shit, even tho he's still generally a good guy here, bc he's worried about B and thinks she can't properly take care of herself.

While B DOES have a strong crush on Christine, she’s the opposite of the Squip’s “goal”; that’s (obvs) masking, or making passably digestible, her queerness.

Her Mom and step-’Daddy’ have reacted to her friendship w/ ‘openly gay moms, also very flamboyant and GNC’ Michael... poorly.

Michael thinks the solution has to be “act as aggressively yourself as you can, and if they reject you, you know me and the mom’s have a space for you”. This works for him bc he’s permanently hyper-visible, what with all of his own marginalized identities. But, not only has she flied under the radar in comparison to him for years, he doesn’t know everything about her life.

In fact, he doesn’t know most of it. She’s very good at hiding things.

Meanwhile, Jeremy, one of the more popular ‘boy... ish’ (we’ll get to this, too) people in school, is mid-psychosis and self-destruction. He actually has schizo-affective disorder--as is the case with all of my versions of Jeremy--which he needs medication for. Combined that with so many bad influences and trauma, he can no longer fully control himself or his life.

The way he handles this (badly) is to ‘whore around’--which, besides being Chloe’s pet, is kinda why he’s so popular. Nobody respects him, but he’s viewed some form of favorably.

Jeremy is in a relationship with Rich, but he won't let him get as close/protective as Rich wants; Mo and Rich were doing their own man-whoring (but healthy, just droppin’ panties and making dudes and chicks swoon--yeah, Rich is out as bisexual, this is a very ‘the Squips are a good thing’ AU) to gain their standard reputation, but in the course of that, they got together with Jeremy and it became... complicated. Both of them are very "nnn" about how bad his life is for Jer.

The way that their personalities are altered is... okay. To explain this, I have to talk about my characterization of canon-Brooke and Jeremy in relation to this, starting with Brooke:

I imagine B as just a liiittle below the line of "all the way there" for sorta-similar reasons to Jeremy here: trauma, and Chloe (which is why that’s what Jeremy gets in this, it’s just WAY worse when compounded by everything else). She’s also--like me, and like almost every character I write as a result--autistic, in a near-permanent state of “not enough accommodations” and over-stimulation. This leads to a lot of dissociation and a very wandering mind, as well as being perceived as a bimbo or dumb blonde or w/e misogynistic bullshit is projected onto her by the boys she dates (she’s also much more down the middle bi outside this AU).

So, going back to how she is for this AU: she's actually not super nerdy, despite the close connection she and Michael have. Honestly, it’s their general neurodivergent weirdness that bring them together, and so she’s mostly adopted her nerdy interests through him, whether directly a thing he likes, or finding a whimsical variant that fits her tastes.

Obviously, unlike Jeremy, she doesn’t mind being called a loser. She does any insinuation she might be queer. This including anyone who calls her gay or a dyke.

She has too much Cis Male Trauma (unlike canon, where it comes from both cis angles) to really entertain the idea of a Traditionally Male Partner. This means she skews HEAVILY towards hard GNC guys at the very least, and generally finds herself most interested in the idea of enbies and women. she's also not super into butches tho, bc her trauma mixing with her sexuality has latched on to Strong Masc People Are A Threat.

An expansion on her interests, in canon and otherwise: animals, ASMR/sensual service work (including massages and stuff), spending hours just sorta sitting by herself and letting her imagination wander, fairy tales, and YA-and-under fantasy books.

(Here, she tries to avoid het or f/f romance... except that, this past year or two, she’s started really like m/m stuff--esp after getting REALLY into drag shows, which she could enjoy safely since girls like Chloe have gotten into them too; in canon, she’s a romance fanatic)

Now... this is one of the really darkfic element; she's fucking her step-dad.

She does this so that he doesn't walk out on her, her mom, and her little sister*. Her mom has a good-enough job as a standard office woman, but he makes enough to pay the rent on their nice townhouse and all the bills she can’t. So, after he expressed interest in Brooke and then casually mentioned he could always just leave if she wasn’t comfortable, she reluctantly entered a relationship with him

(* = her sister is currently know as her brother; he’s like 12 or 13, and started showing signs of trans/queerness which have been Heavily Discouraged. Brooke worries about him a lot)

((I didn’t use she/her pronouns bc I’m not entirely sure he would change them? This is an OC Oli created at the beginning of our interest in BMC, and we haven’t worked on him at all since, so how his characterization will be is up in the air))

Canonically, Brooke's "in love" with her daddy, which is a self-imposed delusion; if she actually addressed it, she’d says she’s well aware that’s not true, but it's so much easier to pretend when you’re cornered like that. Brooke’s life blows.

She’s a lot more honest to herself about hating him here; still, she tries to be as polite and generally-friendly as she can, doing what he says whenever he wants.

OKAY, THAT’S BROOKE. If any of that is badly described or potentially-offensive, it’s just bc I glossed over SO MUCH DETAIL, even in that amount of it!

So. Jeremy.

I don’t have to go over him much and we’re all mostly aware of how I feel about him and also I don’t have the energy to do this again--

(just... read my fics The Devil at your Door or hello yesterday or something... eyyy actually do that, my ao3 username is Sedusa, blah blah blah ANYWAY)

--but basically: He's still very nerdy, like, he’s super into film as well as video games (which is another constant for me), but after being largely ignored in elementary, he's been trailing behind Chloe at her orders since they were in 6th grade. As a result he isn't very open about... any of his interests.

In 7th grade, he came out as trans to everyone. Chloe was furious, but at the same time, intrigued; this was around the time Chloe gets her own... ah shit I gotta go into that too--

--yet another hc of mine is that Chloe gets a Squip on accident around this time at a party (there was one in a “”candy bowl””), and from there, she claws her way up the ladder. I... will not go into that much, but her Squip was crippled by the drugs and alcohol in her system, and therefore largely at her mercy. She’s used his power to manipulate certain things about herself and to sharpen her focus on popularity to the point she’s full-blown Alpha Bitch.

Man, I’ve had to go on so many tangents, I apologize.

Anyway, she drags Jeremy around as a punching bag. She constantly mocks Jeremy's transness, even though she usually calls him by his correct name and pronouns.

This has made the rest of the school follow her lead, hence why I said “boy-ish”; he’s popular, he’s technically ‘well liked’, but nobody really takes him seriously. This is compounded by Chloe’s refusal to let him dress in 'dorky' casual clothes, and, as he’s both too poor to afford designer clothes and also generally hates popular guy fashion, he has to wear the hyper femme clothing Chloe specifically tells him too/

As such, people call him a boy but largely see him as either an idiot, a slut, an attention seeker, or all of the above.

So of course, in Brooke's place, his neurodivergence is more prominent than ever; every day he slips further into this psychosis and self-infantilization haze, as his his mom leaving, his dad severely depressed, Chloe's sexual violence, and other repressed trauma (see: my fic hello yesterday on ao3) all weighing on him. This makes him INCREDIBLY regressed, like, all the time by Junior year.

And then Brooke's Squip (IE: canon Squip) falls in love with Jeremy extremely fucking hard. He pushes her to date him as a way to compromise on her queer desires, since Jeremy is technically a boy, and certainly a few other straight-ish girls have hooked up with him in the past.

WHEW. That is a fucking lot. To wrap this up, lemme go over the interpersonal relationships not already mentioned, and what directions I think it takes.

First off, Madeline has a more prominent role, as I quite like her tbh; she’s a sex worker, she has her own Squip, she’s one of Chloe’s most hated enemies, and she gravitates towards both Brooke and Jeremy. She’s also Actually French, Chloe’s just weird.

(Anyway she prolly sees through Brooke’s straight act and asks her why she’s pretending to be a good little cishet. It rattles Brooke.)

Chloe is scum. This bears repeating. She DEFINITELY rapes Brooke at the Halloween party, and becomes obsessed with her, along with already being obsessed with Jeremy and Jake.

Jake, by the way, has a lot of regressive behavior and impulsiveness bc he’s been in an abusive relationship off and on with Chloe for years now.

Speaking of Jake, moving on to his best bro: Rich doesn’t set himself on fire. He’s having a good time with his Squip.

But.

He IS set on fire at the Halloween party.

Instead of the Smartphone Hour being about Rich's instability, it's actually about the mystery of Someone Did It To Him But No One Saw Who It Was, They Were Disguised.

The answer relates to the fact that Rich and Brooke are ALSO hooking up, after she’s already with Jeremy, bc he Properly introduces her to him and the three of them hit it off really well.

(She initially wasn’t interested, but while Rich is loud and still kinda abrasive, his Squip doesn’t drive him to act like a bully--and in private, his nerdiness is really obvious and he’s extremely gentle with her and Jeremy. Add to that that he’s bi and trans*, when Brooke connects best w/ queer men over cishet one, and it off-sets his masc-ness enough to make him an Exception.

* = I always imagine him as trans. See: all of Vanceypants fics.)

Sooo... the culprit is actually Brooke's daddy, who sees her with this obvious heartthrob and Cannot let that be.

Chloe convinces Michael that the Squips are Very Very Bad and has him team up with her to force Brooke into drinking Red, with the intention to convince him to kill himself after to get him out of the way, bc she’s really going nuts at this point.

Eventually, he snaps out of it when he and Christine get together (he’s thought he was Full Homo all of his life, but Christine’s prolly genderqueer-ness makes him realize “oh shit, I’m bisexual”) and she starts to question why he’s acting the way he is towards Christine.

He also definitely has a crush on Jeremy and during his time with Chloe he kinda tried to flirt a little but couldn’t really... he’s not up for dating someone as sexually active and a push-over as Jeremy is in this.

However, when he snaps out of Chloe’s manipulation, he and Christine approach Mr. Heere to convince him to straighten up and help Jeremy and also bc they really need an adult to successfully fight Chloe.

This requires a month+ of Christine getting him to see her psychiatrist (the one who prescribes her ADHD meds). Jeremy spends the majority of his time staying with Chloe, and very rarely comes home to gather things or to make sure his dad is eating/still alive, as much as he can remember to in his own haze of mental illness. Anyway, point is, he doesn’t know Christine and Michael are there often... not that, in the course of growing close to Mr. H, they both fall for him hard and it becomes one of my stranger OT3s.

(God, Jeremy goes through a lot of shit in this, tho.)

Pre-Squip, Jenna was kinda-sorta Brooke’s friend--or, well, friendly. However, she’s actually full blown “oh my God she’s wonderful” in love with Brooke.

Brooke isn't aware of that, esp since Jenna tries her not to be around her a lot. She's also trying to hide her own queerness, bc she’s a trans woman and she knows Chloe finding that out would be extremely dangerous.

Eventually, Chloe succeeds in making Brooke take the Red months after canon usually ends, w/o Michael’s help. If you’re curious, Red doesn’t affect her normal Squip bc she’s had him too long and a lot of his receptors and stuff are damaged, so it’s the second one she gets in canon that turns off.

This plan backfires, however, as Brooke’s Squip comes back with a physical body w/ help from Rich and also-bodied-now Moses.

With a body, and shenanigans, Mo and Squip take out Brooke’s daddy too. His life insurance more than makes up for the loss of his income, as it’s a sizable amount. Now that Brooke feels more empowered and strong, she overrides her mother’s neglectfulness and takes control of the household w/ her boyfriends*, comes out as queer, helps her sister transition, and begin to heal from all of this trauma.

(* = Rich and Mo move in, as does Jeremy eventually, after graduation; Jeremy gets a psychiatrist and a therapist and prolly has to go through some intense outpatient care and possibly a stay in the hospital, before finally making major breakthroughs and looking like himself again. The five of them are now happy and in love.)

Chloe, after her arm gets twisted by the Squip’s protective presence so thoroughly, gives up on Jeremy and Brooke to focus on Jake. This too gets abandoned when Rich and Mo help him cut her off, and so she stays in her own popularity bubble, bitter, until graduating and going to a community college in a different state.

All in all, things work out well in the end, but getting there is a long, difficult process. This AU fascinates me immensely and feels like a great way to examine some of my really dark headcanons about MB, as I think it’s a town similar to Derry in Stephen King’s IT--as in, just chronically The Worst Place Ever, with this, like, miasma of low-key despair around it. People adjust and don’t question it, which is why so much of BMC is this flippant dark humor in the face of some highly questionable shit.

I’m so sorry this post is so long (I’ll be uploading it to AU under my usual Sedusa account, as metas like this are more than allowed), but I really adore these characters and the way they can be twisted around, so I had a lot to say!

Thank you for reading <3

-mod Seb

image description: virtual-like stairs pointed forward and bathed in neon yellow and blue to represent Brook and Jeremy, which I’ve modified from the original blue-only design.

source: x (link description: a free Wallpaper Flare image that I found off Google Image’s “filtered by ‘labeled and reuse with modification” feature)

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spaceace314 · 4 years ago

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Grades are (not) everything

As you all undoubtedly remember from an offhanded comment I made 25ish posts ago, I am a university student. I study maths *pauses to leave room for people to make a passing comment about how much they hate maths and how they could never study it*, and I’m pretty damn good at it. In fact, I’ve always been a little bit of a nerd, or, y’know, the nerdiest nerd ever to nerd in the history of my shitty secondary school, and I always got really high grades in all of my subjects, except for P.E. (or Phys Ed for y’all Americans, or “the subject with the moving and sweating and exercise” for everyone else). I’ve always been hopeless at P.E. However, despite my spectacular grades, my time at school was less than fun.

Storytime:

I have literally the most amazing parents in the whole wide world (shoutout to my mum and dad, even though they’ll never read this blog), and they never put any pressure on me to get good grades, they just wanted me to try my best. My teachers, however, did not share the same mindset, and put so much pressure on us to get good grades that at the age of 10, when I was very ill on the day of an “important” exam, I insisted on going in anyway to sit the exam, despite my mum trying to convince me that I was too sick to go in. I did not do well on that exam.

The pressure to get good grades only grew once I entered secondary school. It didn’t take long for my teachers to realise I could get As and A*s quite easily, and none of them were willing to risk me neglecting their subject. One teacher even told me that I “had to get an A*” in his subject. So, no pressure then.

As I progressed through secondary school, the pressure that was placed on my young shoulders only grew, and with it, so did my anxiety. I started to have anxiety attacks in tests and assessments, where I would completely freeze up and be unable to write or even talk, and would sit there and cry silently whilst being literally paralysed in fear. As soon as somebody noticed and asked me what was wrong, it was like the paralysis left me completely, along with all of my energy, and I would collapse into a helpless mess of sobs. I had a very concerned teacher (who wasn’t even my teacher at the time, just a random teacher/saint) who tried to help but had no idea how, and of course, my parents were concerned, and eventually I got exam accommodations to make things easier. Which was great, but was not a magical fix, and when the mock exams came along (which, for any of you outside the UK, is basically a week of back-to-back exams of every single subject which don’t count for anything, but are used to calculate your predicted grades), everything started to fall apart.

I got an F in my history mock.

Which really shouldn’t be a big deal, but remember, I was taught for as long as I could remember that grades were everything, and besides, I was supposed to get an A*. My history teacher was most decidedly Not Happy, and pulled me aside to tell me that I had done really well for half of the exam, but because I didn’t finish it I only got around 50%, which was an F. The reason I didn’t finish the exam was because I had an anxiety attack halfway through and was taken out of the exam. He didn’t care, he just wanted me to do better. That night, I brokenly went home and told my parents about getting an F, and my mum hugged me and promised me we’d work it out and it would all be fine. Like I said, my parents are the best parents in the world. I learnt how to better cope with my anxiety attacks after that and managed to get through my exams, and pass all of them.

TL;DR: FAR too much pressure was put on me by my schools to get excellent grades, which caused (or worsened) my anxiety attacks. Also my parents are awesome and supportive and actually perfect.

I have no idea how I would have got through school and college without my parents being as amazing as they are, and I know not everyone is as lucky as me. I know far too many people who have far too much pressure put on them to get good grades, and who will actively prioritise their grades over their mental or physical health. We learn from a very early age that school is more important than our happiness and wellbeing, and that’s not okay.

So to any schoolkids reading this, take it from somebody who’s been there, done that. You are more important than your grades. If I could go back in time and give my younger self some advice, it would be to take advantage of being a kid, to live my life and to take care of myself. Study hard, of course, but never at the expense of your mental health and happiness. Good grades are all well and good, but I would happily bump all my grades down a bit to get my mental health back in order, especially as I’m facing the concept of having an anxiety disorder for the rest of my life.

Also, I know that school is hard, and it’s not gonna suddenly get loads easier because you’ve shifted your priorities. But you’ll get through it. School doesn’t last forever, and one day, you’ll be able to walk out of those stupid school gates and never have to look back, and trust me, that feeling of freedom is worth waiting for. You’ve got this, just keep going, and take care of yourself. You’re doing just fine.

I love all of you, stay safe out there xxx

#grades #school #the school system is broken #anxiety #stress #anxiety attacks #mental health

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polygamyff · 5 years ago

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43. Part 4

I am internally happy there is a elevator, because I will not be taking those stairs to get to the forth floor again “wooo, that was hard work” holding my chest “you’re unhealthy” Robyn was quick to mention, she didn’t wait with that one “whatever you say” I am legit out of breath “you don’t say that in the bedroom” I said under my breath “what!?” Robyn said, “I said nothing dear, your ears are deceiving you” I chuckled “is she still asleep?” Reign is lazy as shit; not awake at all I wanted a cuddle from her. Sitting down in a huff “so, how do you feel? Happy?” I hope she is “I am in shock, like there is a lot to take in Maurice but I will never leave this home. There would be no reason to leave this home at all, I can’t thank you enough. We just may need to fill each room with a child” I chuckled, Jay sat down next to me “we need to discuss some things, so” sitting forward “all is well, this home you’re happy with but I think I need to get a maid permanently here and then a team to come now and then, like my mom does” Robyn’ face softened “are you going to clean every corner? Trust me, the maid will become part of the family, it’s just not physically right, you can’t do it Robyn. She or even he will become part of the family, you are not used to it but it needs to happen. The maid will do the upkeeping of the home, we can get a chef I don’t know, you tell me?” I said, I want her to tell me what she wants “I mean mom, it’s not right?” Robyn looked at her mom “he asked you Robyn, this is your home. You put forward what you want, he is asking you” Terry said “but then it’s like not my home, it will be ran by maids. I don’t want no nanny for my daughter” I laughed, I had to laugh “Robyn, they are maids not nanny’s, different. I am not going to sleep with them, I am not my dad Robyn. So, you want to go to work and then come home and clean? Is that what it is? There is seven floors, please be logical” I mean I did tell Robyn my dad married the woman I called Mami “I am not saying you will, I don’t know. I am not used to that, I don’t know” she doesn’t know what she wants “ok, so how about this. The kitchen, the cooking and things can be your thing yeah? The maid we get, together we can joint decide the person that will live with us and do this, as it stands my parents have one person live with them, a team come in every once a week to do a big clean of the home, it gets dusty of course. No chef, but there will be security living with us, so Jay, not sure depends. You need to accept this; this is the life of the rich Robyn. I am telling you now, you cannot do what you think you can do” I do wonder what Terry’s opinion of this is but she is very quiet, she wants Robyn to decide on her future.

Robyn is either upset with me or she is thinking hard on this “do you think I will cheat with her? What is it?” this is upsetting to know “no, not that. I swear it’s not that, it’s just I don’t know what to say Maurice. Someone will be in our home? I am not used to that, but please. Don’t think that, I don’t think you will do what your dad did. I mean how does it work. Tell me” she is not used to it “erm, so maids. Well let’s speak on the maid in Texas, she lives with my parents, she is Mexican, but we don’t allow her to wear uniform. She is apart of the house, like family. She gets time off and so on, then her team come once a week, every Friday and help her deep clean but she maintains the home. And she is lovely, I have known her for nine years now and she sits at the table with us, we don’t mistreat her but it depends on how you want it to happen, ok? If you want her to feel at home or not but, she is there to look after the home. Reign is our issue, Security, Jay can speak on that” I said “I spoke to Matt, just down stairs and said Lenny and myself can work it between us to stay here, I can part of your family life. Little bit now, I mean we get on. I will be happy to stay here and make you feel safe and so on. Y’all are like family anyways, and yes it’s a big move but Lenny and I can bounce between each other on who comes here and so on” licking my top lip nodding my head “and we do this together? Pick the maid, like Jay doesn’t bother me. I just don’t know not used to it” Robyn said “and I am sure you will but that is what I propose should happen, I do need to do a house warming and this space. Richard is right, it’s going to be great” I laughed, I am excited “suit and tie event, some drinks” I cheesed “oh you’re thinking about a damn party, but then if we are doing it together then I am happy with that” nodding my head “of course, also we need to do Reign’ room. That is one thing they never did” I couldn’t demand such a thing.

Taking my suit jacket off, the boxes are all over this room, I mean of course we have the gigantic bedroom, it has a living room connected to the bedroom with the walk-in closet. Space is enough for the both of us, I am so excited to lay in the bed tonight. Looking up “it has a projector that comes down” I said “as well as the TV in there?” that is impressive actually, imagine all the cuddles I can get while watching TV in the bed “yes” unbuttoning the top buttons of my shirt as I made my way to the bathroom “the bathtub is huge and this mirror, like I am just imagining all the sex we can have and I can watch” Robyn is something else “is that what is stopping you from coming into the bedroom, thinking of sex? When did you become like this?” grabbing Robyn’ hand as I stood behind her “I think it’s you, it’s when I met you. I met a man that knows how to use his dick, now I am addicted” staring down at Robyn, I really can’t wait to spend my every moment with her “like I am you” nuzzling my nose into Robyn hair, her smell, the smell I have missed. Looking up at us in the mirror, Robyn is just smiling watching me “I have missed you so much Maurice, your touch. I just think we needed this and the fact you’re divorced now, I am so happy” I grinned in the mirror “I did it for you, remember that. Nobody else, only you. But we got a lot of work to do, putting things away and stuff” Robyn turned around to face me “I can’t wait for us” Robyn wrapped her arms around my body, my nose lightly touching hers “I mean we could..” Robyn said, I laughed and I laughed because at any chance Robyn is on it “we will, but Reign has no bed either so she will be with us” pressing a kiss to Robyn’ lips before walking off, let her think about that one.

Taking off my smart shoes finally “it’s a weird feeling Robyn, to be in my own home. Like this is home, I have not had a home before. Like a home I know I will be here, I know I will be leaving work to come here” I am taking this off like I won’t be putting them on, we are going out to eat because clearly nothing here is prepared “pootie, baby. You know the walk-in closet, well” Robyn wants something, I know it “there is more space then heels and that can’t happen right?” I am trying to not laugh but I can’t help it “right?” I said, I am confused on what she wants “well, if I be a good girl can we like go shoe shopping?” shaking my head “no, ma’am. Pootie said no” she is a damn trip “I will such your dick tonight!?” shaking my head laughing “only if my Hermosa says she wants shoes, then yes” Robyn gasped “excuse me, what happened to me? I save lives!? That is not right, you are playing us off against each other and I think this is terrible. If I have to go alone to get heels I will be very sad” Robyn is a real life troll, she is funny “I will see what happens, dependant on if Papi is happy, if Papi is not happy then baby you not going to get anything” Robyn pouted at me “mhmm, fine. So, when do I get your black card” who is this woman, Robyn moved my arms and sat on my lap “I want it to say Robyn Davenport, can you make that happen for me. Like I know you can make anything happen” Robyn placed her arm around my neck, using the tip of her nail to trace my lips lightly “Mhmmm” I smirked, Robyn licked my lips before attacking my earlobe.

I knelt behind Robyn, kissing my way back up her body, my tongue, and lips, my hands mapping a path for myself. Then I stood behind her, the hard press of my dick against her backside. I mean yes Terry is waiting for us but she did this, she got me hard. Robyn rocked against me, her hands stretched behind her, exploring the curves of my backside. She opened her eyes and I was already staring at the corner mirror, I perfectly aligned Robyn to where she can see herself, our eyes both met. Robyn licked her lips and breathed out, her knees on the mattress' edge. I entered her wet entrance, hard. I suddenly withdrew and she straightened her legs as I held her, I held her firmly, and then eased into her, her body stretching to accommodate me, her inner muscles contracting against me. Pulling out of her to only immediately thrust into her more deeply, encouraged by her soft moans and shuddered breaths. I moved like this over and over, soon establishing a punishing rhythm, the sounds of our bodies slapping together filling the silence around us. I looked down at where we were joined, my dick glistening from her wetness, and I loved seeing us this way, our joining, our arousal.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, God. Maurice. I'm coming!” In response to her strangled cries, I increased my pace in and out of her, gripping her tightly, my hands digging into the firm muscles of her thighs, supporting her, supporting myself. And, she exploded around me, her inner muscles contracting and gripping, halting myself as I stilled inside of her. She panted, moaning, her body shuddering, her knees bent “God” she moaned “God, that was. Everything!” she spat; her body quaked. I wrapped one arm around her middle, while I continued to move in and out of her, more quickly now “oh my god!” Robyn said, “Yes Robyn, oh yes!” I cried out, my voice bouncing from the walls. I spilled into her, exploding. When the orgasm finally eased, I carefully pulled out of her, lowering her legs safely to the mattress “fuck, I love you” Robyn said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Robyn’ shoulder, Robyn lazily fell turning around on the bed “I love you more, Feign” crawling onto the bed hovering over Robyn “I just want this good, good!” Robyn placed her hands on my chest “Robbie!, how long? Reign is getting restless” looking up at the double doors “uh, yeah. I am coming now mom” shaking my head, this is all Robyn’ fault “you’re so bad” I said in a whisper “hush! Mom! Don’t worry I am coming!” Robyn is bad.

Fixing my cufflinks walking behind Robyn “did you get changed?” Terry asked “mother!” Robyn spat “I am just asking; he looks like he got changed? Back into his shirt” Robyn giggled, I just looked down at my cufflinks trying to get them fixed in shame. We didn’t even have a shower; I smell like sex. This is all Robyn “so did you both speak; did you tell Maurice about Thomas?” Oh, Terry is not dropping “we toured the home again, stop it. Let’s go now” dapping Jay “my nigga” Jay said laughing “man get up, let’s go” I want to leave now “so how come you took so long? Robbie” Terry wants Robyn to admit to it but I will just jog down these steps and they will catch us up, Robyn and I can now spend all the time together “Maurice, how dare you ditch me?” I heard Robyn say, I ditched her because her mother is not dropping it. To be honest, I could have nutted in Robyn more, I could have gone on for longer with her. She is just so damn beautiful naked, like she can get me hard so quick from being just naked. Waiting in the gallery, like Richard called it “you ran down those stairs, you did the deed huh? You ain’t wait!?” Me and Jay just laughed “yo, I couldn’t stop her. She was on me, she wanted me. I just can’t help it my nigga” rubbing my chest laughing “yo, you need to hook me up. Like on a real, you know girls, get me hooked up” I paused thinking “Ally? I mean if you don’t mind that, you know? Ally is good? I mean a good person” Jay didn’t say anything “you both are awful!” Terry said as they finally came down “wow, Robyn. You can’t be telling my mother in law such things” Robyn just laughed “she harassed me” shaking my head.

Usually at this restaurant you have to book in because it is always busy, but I will see what we can do “look how close the place is from the home, we can walk here. Let me take Reign” I said, taking Reign from Robyn “you hungry? Because daddy is very hungry right now, let’s see if I can get us a table here” Reign is very nosey, she is watching everything and checking on every person that walks by. Jay opened the door for me “Hi, Welcome to Eleven Madison Park. Are you booked already?” the waiter asked “no, it’s last minute. I know you have to always make a reservation but I have been busy” the waiter looked down at the computer “Maurice, we don’t usually do this but we will get you a table” this guy knows “thank you” I said “New York knows you” Jay said “they do” following the waiter, he knows not to turn me back. I know all the little business around here, I know all the owners “can you also get a highchair for my daughter too” he is taking us in the private dining area, this is what I love about going to a five star restaurant, they always have private dining areas which I love, I love privacy.

Smiling at Reign as she sucks her thumb and I hold onto her free hand; I don’t want her to grow up. Look at her cute self, I can’t stop watching her “Maurice, I don’t like her sucking her thumb. You’re just helping her do such a thing” rolling my eyes and turning my head to Robyn “you are spoiling Reign’ zen moment, she is at peace and I am holding her hand through it, leave us alone” my baby’ little fat hand holding onto my finger “so anyways, tell me about Thomas. What did he say to you, we didn’t get to speak on it, you were busy begging for a black card” Robyn scoffed “you are so annoying, I did not beg. I just asked but anyways, he literally came just as I was about to leave. I did think I was going to be emotional or be upset that he came. Maybe my excitement to come here came over me, it was awkward on his end. He just said are you ready to go? Then he saw Reign and said she has grown so much, that she reminded him of me. He just apologised and wish he didn’t ruin my whole outlook on my childhood, but I said it was too late, I cried, I was hurt but I moved on. He then proceeded to speak on how much he misses me, and he does see me as his daughter still and just said he is proud of me. You go with your heart, he said he felt burdened by the lies that I knew and that he felt he needed to tell the truth, he should have dealt with it better but honestly, I am happy to have moved. A new start for me also, you know. I am so optimistic” I am happy that she feels like that “well it’s his loss, he lost two beautiful ladies with a good heart. It’s his loss but I am just wanting you to be happy, as long as you’re happy with that, but you do look happy with it. I think Thomas sees he has lost a family, I think he probably assumed you both may have begged for him back, or even Terry crying still for him but no, forget that” Robyn is happy so who cares what Thomas has lost.

I guess I better tell Robyn what I did, I guess “so Malik has been hiding in my hotel in New Orleans, well my dad put him in there to stay. Noami has left him, her uncle beat his ass and then my dad put him in my hotel so, well. I contacted the hotel and he’s been having parties, ordering things to the rooms and then my staff said drugs, they were scared to phone the police, so I ordered it. Currently, Malik is in jail because of me. But fuck him” Robyn gasped, and I just shrugged because I don’t care “that is terrible, Malik needs help you know that. Jail? That is awful, I know what he did was wrong to us but he is on drugs” I knew Robyn wouldn’t agree with it “what is more awful, Malik going to jail or the fact Tiffany’ child has the same initials as Reign?” Robyn’ eyes bulged out “excuse me? You what!?” I knew that would make her change “Royal Texas Davenport, them fucking assholes stole Reign’ name so I was angry, Kellen came to see me and he was like Tiffany wants me to get her a home the same as yours, she wants the life you are giving Robyn, then he admitted that. He said what can I do to make money still, your dad said that you are stopping the money, so because I was annoyed I did something you may not like or probably will applaud me but I think the first option” Robyn pointed at Reign, looking at Reign and seeing her falling asleep in the high chair but wakes up every time her head falls forward “aww Mi Amor, come here” unbuckling her “finish it off Maurice, what did you do?” picking Reign out of the high chair, placing Reign over my shoulder “hey, no whining. It’s only Papa” rubbing her back “tell me!” Robyn spat “so I said to Kellen, don’t judge me Terry so. Because they are being fucking weird, Kellen stated he is unhappy, I said to him divorce her and then come back to me” Robyn groaned out “Maurice, why are you making these nasty decisions? Do not get involved with that, you’re right Maurice I am not impressed. The bitch hates me that much but don’t do those things” I knew that would have happened “well, when it comes out you already know. And she won’t get anything so yeah, I mean come on. She has been releasing stories about me, about us! Stop caring” I said “really?” nodding my head “I don’t do it maliciously but she deserves it” I do believe Kellen will be putting that divorce through, she will be alone.

#chrianna #chrianna FF #fanfic #fanfiction

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nikokova · 7 years ago

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Changes: Chapter 1

So I think I’m going to try to keep an update schedule where I post Tuesday or Wednesday, but I’m a mess so who really knows.

Prologue

Summary: Logan Summers: One friend, a 4.0, and a huge secret. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Virgil Mathews: barely surviving high school, let alone possibly being moved away from his one and only friend just so he gets to experience what its like to “Have a family”. Patton Pennington: can’t remember having a friend in real life, hopes that his parents taking in a foster kid can change things for him. Roman Royal: Arguably the most popular boy in school, but when he hears that the high schools are merging next year, will he be able to mend his checkered past?

Pairings: slow-burn pining analogical, slow-burn royality

Warnings: Anxiety, mentions to past bullying, food mention, foster system mention, bad writing

Word count: 2126

Tags for Changed: @zaisling @heir-of-the-founders (Send an ask or comment if you’d like to be added)

***

16-year-old Logan Summers really only enjoyed 3 things in life. Books, a schedule, and his best friend Virgil Matthews. Lucky for him, all three were a part of his daily life. He would wake up, go to his college classes, then his high school classes, and walk with Virgil to the library once school was over. He did this every day, other than the weekends which he spent all day cleaning, studying, or at the library.

“Earth to Logan.” A deep voice snapped Logan from his thoughts. His head jerked up and away from the book he wasn’t actually reading. There was a pale this face looking at him, observing him. It's dark russet eyebrows furrowed, contrasting against the pale skin. “What’re you thinking about?”

“I have a test next week, I'm trying to find out what amount of studying would give me the best grade. Then I also need to find out how to adjust my schedule to accommodate.” Logan responded with a shrug, his voice higher but not as soft as the others.

“Oh, lit.” His friend leaned back in his chair and looked around at the school libraries bookcases surrounding them. In doing so he almost missed the way Logan's brows furrowed in confusion, “Don't tell me you don't know what that means.”

“I-I do not-”

“It's been around for months. It means like cool or whatever, but like its just ironic to say it now since it's so old.”

“Virgil, you are aware that keeping up with slang is incredibly difficult for me.” Logan mumbled, a blush slightly on his cheeks. Virgil raised an eyebrow,

“But memorizing 40 words for an English class in one night is easy?” Virgil asked,

“Yes, it is.” He sighed. Before he could add anything else the sound of a bell cut their conversation short. Logan sat up straight and started to move the things from the table to his bookbag.

“I don’t want to go to 4th hour… Mr. Jones is gonna yell at us all hour.” Virgil groaned sinking down in his chair. Logan rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to remark on Virgil’s statement but is interrupted by an announcement.

“Will all teachers please excuse their students to the auditorium at this time.” The voice from the speaker said

“It appears you will not have to deal with Mr. Jones’ annoying voice today.” Logan slings his bag over his shoulder and glances at his now even paler seeming friend.

“Yeah, I just have to deal with the crowded auditorium, full of other people all cramped together, what if we have to sit in the front? Or they want volunteers and they choose me and everyone looks at me and-” Logan places a hand on his friends head to stop them.

“You don’t even know what we’re going to. I’ll make sure we sit in the back, and I’ll volunteer for you if needed.” He reassures, Virgil nods his head and takes a couple deep breaths. “We should head down before it starts to get too crowded. Are you okay now?”

“Umm, sorta.”

“Would holding my hand make you feel more comfortable?” Logan suggested, Virgil's face reddened but he nodded. Logan slowly took Virgil's left hand into his right and helped his taller friend up.

Logan had been the tallest of the two for a majority of their friendship. Though in the summer before 9th grade Virgil had a major growth spurt that rocketed him to 6’½”, leaving his best friend below at 5’5. Logan didn't appreciate this development. Though, neither did Virgil. Most of their childhood Virgil had spent hiding behind Logan when the anxiety became too much to handle. Because of his height, he wasn't able to do that anymore.

So, after some experimentation, Logan came to the conclusion that Virgil's anxiety seemed to reduce when they shared physical contact. He assumes it's because they have been friends for so long, and physical contact is a stress reliever for some.

Once they were ready, they made their way to the front of the library, keeping their entwined hands hidden between them. After Logan shared a wave with the librarian, they left.

The hall smelled of body odor and various smelling perfumes as they blended into the mass. The students were all heading to the right side of the hallway, which leads to the stairs near the auditorium. Logan lead their way through the crowd, nevermind the fact that he couldn't really see over the other students like Virgil could. All that really mattered was Virgil's tight grip on Logan's hand, like he was afraid of getting lost if he didn't hold on.

The tiled floor was an off-white color, Logan wondered if this was because of their age or if they were produced like that. He knew the white and bright lights of the building is part of what made Virgil so uncomfortable, and they often attributed to his migraines. Also the fact that the stairs were so steep everyone always felt like they were going to trip and fall. The group seemed to thin into small lines as they reached the different doors to the auditorium.

“Would you prefer to sit in the back?” Logan asked quietly, Virgil only squeezes his hand in response. Logan nods and chooses the shortest line to stand in.

Once everyone was sitting down, the principal climbed up the stairs up to the stage. Logan noticed that the green of his tie was lighter than the green on the rest of his suit. Principal Hepburn ran his hands through his short hair before walking up to the microphone. It took a couple minutes for the room to quiet, when it did he cleared his throat.

“I'm afraid I have some bad news,” he began, a murmur of concern swept across the crowd. “due to some, well I really shouldn't be saying this. But, due to some not superb financial planning, the school district doesn't have the funds to keep this building open next year.” The concerned murmurs quickly turned into concerned conversations.

Logan felt the grip on his hand tightened and he looked over at the taller boy. Virgil was now bouncing his leg and biting his nails on his other hand.

“Virgil, everything's going to be ok I'm sure they already have a plan.” Logan reassured, gently rubbing his thumb across Virgil's knuckles. The principal stood on the stage and waited for the room to quiet, he continued when it did.

“This summer they will be renovating our sister high school, Sanders Sides, and you should all be moved there next fall. Transportation will be provided for the whole district.” Hepburn finished.

“See, we’ll still go to school together, and that school is only a little further from the library than this one.” Logan whispered, giving Virgil's hand a comforting squeeze before they got up to exit the auditorium.

***

Patton's hands dug into the pockets of his jeans as he walked out of the school. He had been in a good mood all day, until the assembly ruined it. He had done his best to convince his parents to send him to Sanders Sides High so he wouldn't be in the same school as him. He walked down the sidewalk outside of the brick building to the parking lot furthest from the school, where he had asked his dad to pick him up.

The silver car was easy to spot in the near-empty parking lot. Especially because of the stuffed animals kept on the front and back dashes. He could hear the early 2000’s music from a couple feet away as he slipped his backpack off of his shoulders, leaving it hanging on one arm as he opened the door.

“Hey, kiddo!” His dad smiled, chocolate eyes identical to Patton's own seemed to sparkle. His dad was always in a chipper mood, his mom said that Patton had gotten that from him. Along with his curly hair.

“Hey dad, is mom home?” he asked flopping into the seat and setting his backpack on his lap.

“Yep.”

“What about Pa?”

“He won't be home till later. Had to stay back and tutor a student.” His dad explained, Patton nodded and looked out of the window as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“So, umm… Can we have a movie night tonight?” Patton asked quietly, his eyes locked on his fidgeting hands.

“Alright, what happened today kiddo?” His dad gave him a sympathetic glance. Patton hesitated before answering,

“You know the boy, the one I finally told you guys about last year?” His dad nodded but Patton noticed the color drain from his already pale face. “Well, I guess next year all the students from that school are moving to this one. So..”

“Do you want us to switch your schools?” his dad interrupted, looking at him with concerned eyes as they waited at a stop light.

“What!? No! I-I like my school, I'll be ok!” Patton reassured, trying to give his dad a bright smile.

“Pat, you know it's not a problem for us. We just want you to be safe and happy.” His dad sighed, the traffic moving forward once more.

“Really, it’s okay. I like my school, I’ve made friends,” that was a lie, “and he probably won’t even recognize me.”

“Alright, but we are going to discuss it with Pa and Mom later okay?” Patton just nodded and went back to looking out of the window. In truth, he hadn’t really made any friends. Sure, he had lots of acquaintances, but none of them were close enough to be called a friend.

Still, Patton found lots of reasons to be happy. He had an amazing and loving family, cats and dogs existed, he did pretty well at school, and he had some online friends. One was named Talyn, they were cool and liked dying their hair. The other was Valerie, she liked singing. lastly, there was Terrance. Talyn had added him to the group chat only a week ago, so Patton didn’t know much about him yet.

>>>

Dinner was quiet as Patton pushed his food around with no intention of eating it. He had hoped that his mood would have gotten better as time passed, but it hadn’t. His eyes wandered up to his parents, how they each sat on a different side of the table, smiles on each of their faces. They all loved each other. Sure, it was strange at first, when he was first introduced to his Pa, Ryan. He was only in 3rd grade then, but he and Ryan grew close very fast. His mom and Ryan had met when his mom decided to go back to college, he was in almost all her classes. Now his dad and his mom had been together since they were in middle school and got married a couple years before they brought Patton into the world.

“Patton, honey are you ok?” His mom's voice broke him out of his trance.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” He lied pulling a smile on his face. He noticed how his moms face faltered and her slight glance towards his male parents.

“Well, we have something we need to discuss with you. But, if today isn’t a good day we can always just talk about it tomorrow.” She suggested, she ran a hand through her red hair that was a little blonder than Patton’s.

“No, today’s a good day. I guess I’m just a little tired is all.” He shrugged,

“Alright, well you know how we’ve been trying to get matched with a kid to foster for a while, right?” Pa asked. Patton turned his head to the tallest in the room.

“Yeah, did we get matched?!” He asked excitedly, the clouds in his head seemed to lift.

“Yes, all we know for now is that its a boy around your age.” His dad said, but Patton couldn’t stop smiling. What would having a brother be like? They could become best friends, and maybe he could get him to try his food…

“We don’t want to say a definite yes to anything if you aren’t completely comfortable with the idea.” His mom pushed her plate away to fold her hands together in its place.

“We don’t want you to say yes because you feel like you should. Your happiness is our priority, alright bud?” Pa smiled, Patton just nodded and sat back. In all honesty, Patton often felt lonely even with all of his parents. Maybe it was because he had no friends, and maybe this foster sibling could be a new start for him. This time Patton would face his fears and try to make a friend.

“I… I would like to have a sibling.”

***

A/N: Ooooh, weak ending. I’m sorry. I promise that Roman is going to be in the next chapter. Maybe we’ll get an explaination on why he acted the way he did as a child, maybe not.

#analogical #royality #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #tw: bullying #tw: food #nesa writes

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promptlyisuppose · 4 years ago

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September

* I have to learn the new shape of sorrow before I can speak on it.

* I’m not going to obsess about my body. I exercise because it helps me feel more sane and stable and grounded. I eat what sounds good when it sounds good, in reasonable amounts and I don’t obsess about it. Even when I was at peak physical shape, I was still around 160 lbs and I had thighs and ass and a pooch tummy. That’s just my body. A year ago I was at least 260. I’m not near that anymore but I’m also not going to weigh myself and obsess. I’m smaller. I’m stronger. That’s good enough for me. But I have to admit, I like the way starvation looks on me. I like the new contours of my grief.

* Once upon a time (a very very long time ago)

Once upon a dream (I don’t dream much anymore)

Swallowed whole by my shadow (like crow, can never leave well enough alone)

My darkness needs your light (please shine so I can find my way home)

* She asked how the recovery from my concussions was going and I told her the truth. Mostly good. Most days I feel like myself again.

Until I try to create. Nothing feels right in my hands anymore. My cooking is okay but not exactly what I want. My camera doesn’t capture what I see. My writing is dull.

If these are the costs of having my brain back do I really have my brain back?

* The hike today was rough. Every step felt like my body was fighting me - until I got to the spot where I fell last time. It was like my ability to successfully pass that freed tension I didn’t know I was carrying.

* She always finds me in the woods. Sometimes she’s small and scared and we hold hands and climb rocks and play Pooh sticks. She doesn’t want to talk. She just wants someone there in case monsters show up. Sometimes she comes in like a summer storm - blazing across the ocean gathering fury, her rage all consuming while I propel myself harder and faster until she breaks in an orgasm of sweaty skin and breathlessness. I can’t stay away from the woods. I can’t stay away from the ocean. I can’t stay away from her. Even as I slough her off like the cobwebs she clings. Always the ghost of silk itching beneath my skin.

She heaves and claws, jagged red lines left across my skin. She leaves me breathless. I never tell her no though. She calls and I go.

* Is that why my body gets itchy for the woods? She’s waiting out there and my legs carry me to her against my will. There are lessons to be learned and memories to be uncovered but sometimes she is blissfully silent. I think that’s why I managed the whole thing today. I tucked my head down and barreled through and in the end I remembered that even when hard things leave me breathe less and aching I can still do them. I can still fucking do them.

* My grandmother died and now they are both gone. It’s not the death part that I’m worried about. When you die, you’re dead. They’re fine. It’s the idea of my parents being orphaned. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to hold that grief.

* Hold this ache close, tight to my chest, the weighted grief of the world in my hands alone

Cosmic karmic mourning The sorrow of entire galaxies It is too much and too heavy I thought I knew the contours of mourning I thought I knew the capacity I had for sorrow I thought I knew so much And yet I’m stretching again to accommodate what I never anticipated How could I have? How could anyone? Until you are forced to choose Bend or break Flex or shatter And learn the new shape of self Physically I am shrinking and I can almost see it But I am holding so much more It escapes sometimes as tears Bent over the steering wheel wailing until my core aches Deep breathe Deep breathe

* I keep handing her broken shards but we’re making a mosaic. Tesserae is beautiful for being broken on purpose. A focus. A point of light.

* If I make my body hurt, maybe nothing else will be able to. Maybe by the time my body stops hurting the rest of me will have stopped hurting too. Moving my body as an act of worship. Or contrition. Or fear maybe. Or courage. Yes. Courage. Being brave enough to make it my own again.

* My dad said he wants to get tattoos for his brothers and parents. It feels like an ancient form of mourning - permanent marks as proof of life.

* I read a comment about someone being over fed but under nourished and felt that deeply. Not just with actual food but with everything - taking in too much junk and not enough nourishment (of mind of body of self) But they also made the point that you can’t out exercise or supplement a bad diet. Smaller smaller smaller Katherine. Shrink like Alice.

* I can feel the sin eater stories itching to be written and it’s making me nervous. I’m not sure I’m ready to tell stories like that. Brave women using unusual talents.

* When Ethel died I painted squares. When Dorothy died I found myself searching out hymns and crying quietly. Only one at a time though. One hymns worth of grief before I bottle it all back in.

* Look for the lights. It’s cliche for a reason. Find a point that looks less dark than the others and aim straight for it. Run towards it until more light appears. Remember the path is what you make of it. Remember you carry your own brilliance.

* But my hands are closed so tightly, fists against a world that seems too brutal for faith. * I feel the grief creeping up on me and I push it away. “Not yet” I whisper. “Please just wait.” I can’t have all these feelings here, not with witnesses. Not like this. It makes me restless and itchy. Angry. Tired. It takes and it takes and I am so ready to push it away but there’s nowhere else for it to go. I punish my body, hoping it will evaporate with the sweat, but it remains just under the skin. Just close enough to irritate.

* I keep circling around this idea of being open handed. I think of the open hands of my cousins, grandmothers, and aunts - handing me wisdom and humor and love - open palms to give and to receive. The open hands of the women literally around the world who worked, open hands to open hands, bringing these five souls from one to another to me. My hands were open and I was given the greatest of gifts but then, once I had them, I clenched my fists tight. I thought that was motherhood. Holding them so tightly to defend against a world that feels too brutal and terrifying. But then I think of my mother’s hands and how she held me, always safe but never tight. Her hands were open for me to fly but they stayed open for me to come home. Or I think of my babies open hands when they were small, how quick they were to accept anything offered to them. Joy filled and trusting. Or I think about my mother’s hands washing dishes - holding what’s important and letting the rest wash away because open hands means you don’t hold everything. My fists have been clenched so tightly because I’m so scared the universe made a mistake. I am not worthy of these gifts. Except - gifts aren’t given because of worthiness. They’re given because of love. I need open hands again. I need to be a safe place for my babies to fly and a safe place for them to land. They need to be open for giving and for receiving, and the things that are not for me can run through my fingers like water. Open palms open heart, safe but not tight.

* The room smells like her death now, Like the start of her dying. Not the moment she was born but the moment at the end, the rush of fluid and sorrow in her eyes.

* Driving through fog so dense it hid mountains Laughing until we ached so that we didn’t have muscles to cry I know how to hold my sorrow I can even hold the grief of others But in 15 years it is so rare to see his grief that I still don’t know how to help him hold it.

* When I finally sleep, when I let the exhaustion pull me under, I am still clawing my way to the surface. I am restless, tossing and turning and searching for the light. Why does rest feel so dangerous?

* I don’t cry anymore. I tuck the tears deep beneath my belly button and press forward, punishing my body to silence my soul.

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cosmosogler · 7 years ago

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the other day on the phone mom told me that dad’s feelings were hurt because i didn’t say goodbye to him enough when i left.

ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

i woke up this morning. i wish i could remember my dreams a little better. it feels like there’s something that keeps happening over and over and i can’t ever remember what it is no matter how many times it happens.

maybe it’s just that feeling of deja vu more than actually experiencing the same... “thing” in my dreams night after night. the ones i’ve written down only had a common thread of feeling, like, resigned. tired. quiet.

i’m not sure how to say what i’m thinking right now. i’ll try to work up to it i guess.

the internet was out all morning so i didn’t get to bum around on tumblr or check my emails. i filled up my water bottles and put them in the fridge. i’ve got seven water bottles stored for the ~2 projected days of the hurricane. that should be enough. i don’t think the power or water would be out for that long. and if it is out for that long, the storm will have passed by the time i’d need to leave the apartment.

my sister isn’t willing to send over ANY gamecube games for the console here. so that plan is a bust i guess. i keep forgetting i can’t really... well, i can always expect for her to do what she wants.

oh. the governor just closed every school in florida. tomorrow. through monday. current projections put the hurricane directly over my town. as a category 3.

welp! i am SUPER glad i decided to bring all my textbooks home today *just in case*. i’ll have something to do for the next four days.

haha my comments in the grad chat won the honor of being the first-ever liked text message in our channel.

guess i don’t have to worry about going to bed exactly on time tonight then. i’ll keep writing.

i taught for four hours straight today. i’m upset at how many dumb, careless mistakes i’ve been making. i tell myself i’m doing the best i can and then i just... forget things. they don’t even occur to me until it’s too late. the absolute worst though was when the student from my third section who doesn’t speak a lot of english came in. i called him by the wrong name. there were two names on the roster i recognized as chinese and i... picked the one i remembered calling him last week. so not only was i wrong this time, i had been wrong last week when i’d been talking to him. jesus christ. i examined some of my priorities and tendencies to rush into things after that for a while.

i apologized twice and also tried to call him by the right name a couple times while talking to him about the lab afterward. he did pretty good this week though.

after that i don’t really know what i did. i guess i must have had a snack. i’m kind of drawing a blank on what happened between 2 and 4 though. maybe i just watched youtube videos in my office... i’d meant to read but i never really got to it. i did eventually buckle down and find and call a dentist, and get all my other medical paperwork sorted. i did Actual Work until near 6 even though none of it was schoolwork. i waited a half hour for the bus and then when i got home i made cauli tots.

cauli tots are like tater tots, but with cauliflower instead of taters.

snoopy was a little more receptive to playing today. i was so proud of her when she batted at the toy i was waving in front of her.

then i watched youtube videos all evening!!! like a punk!!!!!!!!!!!

suicidal thoughts are weird. to experience, i guess. like i am continually bombarded by the realization that i am currently sitting in some kind of mysterious box with light coming out of the top. and i am looking at a couple pieces of metal with a glowing thing. and then i think, “wow, i am really good for nothing, i am really unhappy, i am really not a good person to know, i am really just going to be a sad irredeemable lump for the next 20 years just like the last 20 years.”

i just. i guess when i realized i was going to die someday (at ~5 or 6) there was a kind of relief? in knowing i could do it myself, maybe? maybe i am misremembering my years before christian school. i know i was experiencing symptoms of depression before christian school. but i didn’t have those words so i wasn’t really... looking for those symptoms or recognizing that they weren’t the same as what other people were experiencing throughout childhood.

there’s a certain sort of resignation you get when at an early age you think, “something’s really wrong with me.” and then you’re proven right over and over and over. heart defects. depression. being Pretty Gay.

i know none of those things are “wrong” but as a kid different is always wrong.

taking the physics prelim. “no, you don’t understand, i felt REALLY bad about how i did on this test.” “you’re fine! everyone was nervous!” “no, you really don’t UNDERSTAND.”

i was right.

i keep telling myself i’m not stupid like someday i’ll believe it but i keep getting reminded over and over again how stupid i really am, how many stupid careless mistakes i make, how little energy i can commit toward being not stupid and dumb and bad.

like, “kill yourself” is such an easy thing to think. it’s so disorienting to actually think it though. to get from

“i complain about everything even though that never fixed anything” ->

“i needed help and no one came, why can’t i recognize and react to these patterns, complaining is useless but i do it anyway” ->

“complaining is annoying AND i can’t trust people, i’ll never have close friends” ->

“i want to die.”

dying is fine! they’ll just write me off as selfish anyway!! i’m turning into one of those CRAZY crazies who can’t/just WON’T get better!!!

i don’t like the way the world kind of warps when i get those thoughts. words stop meaning anything. feelings stop meaning anything. the way the scab on my finger knuckle hurts when i bump it doesn’t mean anything.

writing all these journal entries, spending 40 minutes spewing all my thoughts everywhere on a blog every day... it looks like i am doing a lot of hard work examining myself! but it’s not hard work. it’s fake work. it’s fake. i can’t get better because i’m not working hard enough to change. i can’t do better at physics or therapy or whatever the hell until i start putting in real work instead of fake work.

and i’m stupid because i can’t tell what the difference is.

i’m... seeing the new psychiatrist in 11 days. they will probably want to change up my meds. but i’m tired of wanting to just sleep all the time. well, i mean, i want to sleep all the time anyway, but with meds this ineffective i can push away that feeling and keep going! “keep going,” i say, as i talk about how i very specifically do not want to keep going.

i was trying to figure out how to explain my depression to taylor and luis in the office today when luis asked what i had, that i was getting accommodations. i wanted to say “it used to be worse but now it’s kind of settled into a casual nihilism that i think is funny and charming but it mostly just makes everyone worried.”

i say it used to be “worse” but i’m not sure what worse means here. like the feeling was a lot sharper five years ago, sure. it was a lot more painful when it got bad. my grades were somehow even worse than they are now. i didn’t want to talk to anyone.

i guess it was worse then. now it’s just like, oh, this again. guess i gotta get up and Face The Day; nothing better to do.

that’s the worst, i think. my group therapist at the hospital pointed it out. “why are you here?” she would ask. “eh, nothing better to do i guess,” i’d answer and kind of half-smile. she’d express concern at my lack of commitment. maybe that’s what really killed my ability to get better using that therapy in the end.

everyone else participates and sometimes doesn’t come if they don’t wanna. i come every single time but don’t really participate. i fake participate. i mostly only share things i know don’t matter that much. i put my foot in and hope that’s good enough, that maybe the pool will swim for me if i show up wearing a swim suit.

isn’t that what i’m really doing? i’m having trouble breaking down what’s going on there. i can’t tell. i can’t tell what “real” effort is and what “fake” effort is. i guess fake effort is, like, playing it safe? only changing things i feel comfortable changing?

but like... how am i supposed to make changes i’m not comfortable with? i think about this stuff all the time. i feel that i should be able to adopt healthier coping/boundary strategies without fundamentally changing the way i approach interactions with other people. that feels like something i shouldn’t change, not just something i don’t want to change. how am i supposed to become the person i want to be if i don’t like the way i am changing?

i mean i don’t like the way i am changing either way but going for it deliberately feels like a betrayal.

i’m so stupid. i keep asking mom for advice or comfort even though i know 100% that i am not going to get it from her. she has maybe said one useful thing to me in my life and i don’t think it’s something she also thought was actually useful. maybe i still want someone to just tell me what to do and mom was such an effective all-consuming eldritch helicopter parent that i just look to her EVEN WHEN I DON’T WANT TO. i mean, i don’t even like other people’s parents! i don’t like other people’s parents BECAUSE of my parents!! and i still keep going to them???

i don’t know what to do. i want someone to tell me what to do so i don’t have to figure it out myself. i’m so tired all the time it feels like i’m never going to figure it out. i can’t tell if i’m an effective problem-solver for little problems that require improvisation or if i’m just really good at googling stuff and following those directions, written by someone else. every problem i solve i feel like i should attribute to someone else even when i never actually asked for help or looked anything up. i can’t even remember any examples off the top of my head. i don’t think about them. i just do them.

i said “i” a lot today. i always talk about myself. even though this is my journal and is specifically meant for me to talk about myself? i feel like i’m doing something wrong. even using “i” statements when being honest and direct with people feels like... i’m being selfish by talking about myself. even though that’s what you’re supposed to do, that’s what therapists teach you to do to communicate effectively.

i promise i was this miserable this afternoon. i didn’t “ruin a good mood” i had tonight by focusing on just the negatives. i just plain feel bad!

#tw suicide

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desperatemenministry · 8 years ago

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Mother’s Day Tribute to Gigi Spires – amazing wife and incredible mother

The timing of this worked out well, despite the fact that I had planned to write it for a while now well in advance of Mother’s Day. A quick search through the men’s lessons archives of this menistry reveals a tribute I wrote three years ago that esteemed and blessed our mothers and the mothers of our children. This one needed to be written specifically to and for Gigi, my wife and mother of our children.

Some will think this is personal with no purpose being a blog that gets posted, and that’s fine. But most men do not know how to bless and esteem our wives and mothers of our children. Perhaps your dad was a poor example of this biblical mandate to honor the women He placed in our lives. Or maybe you have simply become, like so many of us men, consumed with everything else in your life that receives more honor and attention than it should-displacing our wives as second only to Christ in our lives.

The women God placed in our lives very often demand from us less than is due them and serve tirelessly without calling attention to themselves or seeking affirmation we should so obediently heap upon them. So let this meager attempt of mine serve to help or encourage you do that which, for many, may be overdue.

Wife. Gigi Rook entered my life in 1982 through an introduction at a Singles’ group at Central Church in Memphis, TN. She is a native of that city and graduate from what was known at the time as Memphis State University. We dated about four months, were engaged six more, and married August 6, 1983.

Gigi took the biblical role of a wife and ‘helpmeet’ very seriously. The old KJV used the phrase helpmeet−a helper (eve) suitable for Adam. Gigi was (is) that in my life. While I took my role equally seriously, I am certain she filled hers better than I did. Gentleness and grace are among her virtues that stood out most and filled some of the many gaps in my life.

[I have spoken to thousands of men over the last four decades and share the following as often as it fits and sometimes when it does not. “Marriage is God’s hardest assignment this side of Heaven.” It really is. It takes commitment and hard work to stay married. The commitment is to God first and then our spouses. The hard work is required to build a biblical marriage. Even harder work is required to maintain it or repair damage caused by attacks of Satan, our fierce enemy, and selfish remnants of our carnality that insists it is all about me.]

Gigi has been more than accommodating, forgiving, and unselfish over the course of our thirty-four years of marriage. There is a great verse toward the end of the book of Proverbs that is attributed to Solomon. He asked the question:

“An excellent wife who can find?” (Proverbs 31: 10a ESV)

In the margin of my Bibles, I wrote many years ago, “I did.” And then wrote in the date of our wedding.

Mother. I could write another book on the early years of our marriage dealing with serious, painful issues related to becoming parents. In less than two years, we went through three miscarriages and a full-term stillbirth of our first daughter. The pain was excruciating−overwhelming and unbearable except that Gigi and I are believing believers. Enduring all of that was our first real test of faith and our marriage.

Many marriages crumble after such hardships. But the Holy Spirit intervened. He brought healing and forgiveness to our brokenness, and filled the holes in our hearts because He alone could. Finally, despite the expert medical opinions that we would never have children, the Lord God Who is our Father blessed us beyond hope with three amazing children.

I always knew Gigi would be an amazing mother. All that happened to bring her to that point only strengthened her resolve. My children have the best mother, hand-picked by the Lord to love and nurture them as only she could and did. I am thankful that they know this and esteem her. Yet, I hope they read this every Mother’s Day and remember to do as the Bible commands−honor her and rise up and bless her.

For all my shortcomings as a husband and father, I can say that I did my best to do that and make sure my children did so as they grew up in our home; even in the difficult teen years. Dads, it is critical that you do that for your wife and teach your children what is means and looks like to honor their moms.

I cannot move on without a couple of comments on the second-most difficult time in Gigi’s life−her battle with Lyme Disease. The physical and emotional toll this took on her for several years was so painful to watch, much less endure as she did. Yet, she grieved more over the time away from and events missed during the high school years of our youngest son more than the pain she experienced. We praise God that after years of trying so many possible helps and treatments, she did find freedom and deliverance from the continual pain and many of the side effects. She has only minor flare-ups these days.

Dedicated Homemaker. Despite what you think, this is not about how well Gigi made our houses into homes and a safe, loving nest for our family because she did that so well. She had more practice than most. We recently moved into our twelfth home together in thirty-four years of marriage. I always tell men I am just glad to still be married to the same women after such a journey. She has been an amazing pillar of support through what has at times been very exhausting, mentally as well as physically.

www.gigisellsnashville.com The context in which I use the phrase, dedicated homemaker, now refers to another stage of life in which she pours her time, talents, and gifts into helping others find and establish their homes. I never nagged Gigi about anything during our many years of marriage except for one thing. As our kids got older and hit the driving (we don’t need you around now, Mom and Dad) years, I strongly encouraged her to become a realtor. She was born for this helpful role.

Gigi’s dad was a home builder and spent many years in the building supply business in Memphis. She majored in a related field in college and used her talents in our twelve homes spread out across the southeast. She is the most conscientious people person I know, despite my bias. So I knew that if she ever chose to do this on her own, she would be the best at helping others do what she had done for us so many times. I gladly toot my own horn here because I was right. She does an amazing job.

So my dear Gigi, here we are thirty-four years into our marriage, having successfully raised three kids who are in Christ, and now not so patiently rocking babies in the nursery as we wait on grands! I am so thankful for your life as my wife and the incredible mother of our children. Here’s to many more (years, that is, not children except grands!) I love you.

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