#i also may have sustained some physical trauma from jumping out a window

[junkyardspider]

no because joseph peterson was right for failing that man because wdym i asked you to write an essay on architecture and you instead wrote about how you were almost eaten by weird remnants of people before you jumped out a window and quit your job???

[anxious-vigil]

Misunderstandings (Pt 5/5)

Summary: Virgil needs someone to help him through panic attacks, and Logan seems to be the perfect solution. However when he approaches the other side, assumptions are made and soon he’s left alone and confused, trying to track down Logic just to ask him where things went wrong. Romantic identity angst fic with like a paragraph of crack at the very end. I’ve since realised it’s also heavily inspired by Platonic by @randomslasher so you should go read that as well if you haven’t already. On Ao3 here

Trigger warnings: Graphic descriptions of panic attacks, mentions of self harm, discussions of sexual/romantic identity, some aro-phobic language, lots of arguing and self-deprecation

Pairings: Analogical, background Royality

Chapter 5

Anxiety sits on top of his desk, face pressed against the glass of his window. He doesn't know how long he's been there but he's seen the sun rise and his legs are stiff. A bird with a forked tail flits across his vision. It's deathly quiet, so he can clearly hear slow steps approaching his room accompanied by the clinking of plates. Nowadays Patton tends to bring him breakfast if he misses it so when the knock comes, he waves a hand to click the lock open. “Just... leave it on the bed or something, Pat.” he whispers hoarsely. Crying and yelling have both taken their toll on his voice and he doesn't want to talk anymore than he has to. A soft thud signals the tray being set down and the door shuts gently. He sighs, hating that Pat has to step out of his way like this, he knows how much he makes the older trait worry.

Logan shuts the door and turns to study Virgil carefully. The skin beneath his eyes is badly bruised, his wounds are clearly untreated and he's wearing his old hoodie like a physical weight. He doesn't look like he's moved from his solitary position anytime recently. It nowhere resembles a good situation. Logan clears his throat and Virgil jumps, turning to look at him with wide, frightened eyes and a complexion that shouldn't be naturally grey. He lowers himself slowly to sit cross-legged on the floor as if taming a spooked animal. The logical facet sighs, knowing the only place to start repairing this relationship was at the beginning, difficult as it may be for him.

“Five years ago,” he starts carefully, tracking Virgil's expressions, “Patton and Roman decided they wanted to try being in a romantic relationship.” He sees understanding bloom in Virgil's eyes but he's going to tell this story in all it's sordid details. There will be no more misunderstandings through his fault if he can help it. “At the time, they were also both attracted to me and so decided a triad would be best for everyone involved. I was confused by the whole notion of romantic attraction and told them so. I attempted to inform them of an identity I'd found through research, aromanticism and explained I thought it fitted me and so would prefer not to join them on their venture into the unknown. They didn't really understand, and felt rejected.

As I was not yet sure in myself and did not want to damage their feelings, they managed to persuade me that I needed to try out a romantic relationship rather than dismiss it out of hand. It seemed... logical to explore before settling on a label, and yet, it didn't feel right, but I decided to go along with the others, thinking my emotions were irrational. Those 89 days...,” he pauses, searching for words, “...weren't... good? Patton and Roman were perfect gentlemen but I couldn't seem to be happy. I didn't understand either the grand gestures or the quiet signals and so couldn't reciprocate. Whenever I tried to, to make them happy, it tended to fall flat in a way I couldn't comprehend. According to Roman, it was missing a 'special spark'.” he laughs. “Whatever that is. When they tried to include me on dates, I felt uncomfortable and out of place. I... I hated it.” Anxiety watches him with quiet dismay in his eyes, he's never seen the logical side so emotional. “It came to a head when Patton and Roman decided it was time to add a sexual nature to the relationship. I'd been letting their expertise lead until that point but the idea of sex repulsed me and by then I'd realised it wasn't sustainable to force myself to be someone I wasn't, in pursuit of something I didn't even want, all to try not to upset them.”

He's stopped watching Virgil's reactions now, too caught up in memories. “I left the relationship. They found it difficult to comprehend my reasoning and for a time assumed I didn't enjoy their company at all. I confronted them 27 days after leaving and managed to partially restore our platonic bond. Although they still struggle, they do their best to be supportive. Well... they did.” He blinks back tears. “Please understand I'm not trying to pass off blame, I am entirely without excuse, but I would like to explain. When they saw you trying to cultivate a friendship with me, they assumed a romantic attraction. They presumed you would 'fix' me and our team of four would become two couples. You came to ask me star-gazing the day after Patton gave me the 'shovel talk'.” He looks up to see Virgil sitting cross-legged a few feet away. “Is that the correct usage?” Logan receives a slow nod and takes it as permission to push forward with his side of the story.

“With Patton and Roman telling me you were interested and my lack of understanding on the subject, I assumed they were correct.” He huffs a breath of frustration, removing his glasses to scrub at his eyes. “Stupid, I know, given they'd gotten me completely wrong, to trust their judgement but hindsight really is 20:20, I guess.” A pale hand settles on his. “When you came to me, I'd been stressing over how to break the news to you. I thought I'd done well but you kept coming back and I was terrified of another situation where if I gave an inch, I'd end up trapped because they... you didn't- wouldn't... because you wouldn't understand my needs as much as I didn't understand yours. So I ran and I hid and I was a coward.” Self-loathing shines through his voice and the hand tightens it's grip on his.

“I should have done better by you Virgil, especially given I know what it feels like to have someone get it so completely wrong. I... I want to do better by you, find out what you need as a person, to be the one you come to for comfort, to understand you. The others place so much stock in romantic bonds, I'd...oh.” his eyes blow wide in realisation. “I'd forgotten what platonic attraction felt like.” He says slowly. He feels understanding hit him like a physical blow as he reanalyses his own thoughts and actions over the past years, seeing himself drift away from Patton and Roman, uncomfortable with their excessive affection. “I've been... lonely.” He blinks and watches a tear land on their clasped hands. “I want to be your friend.” Logan whispers. “I don't know if you can ever trust me again. I know it's not the logical choice given how I acted, and I know I landed a lot of information on you just now, pity or some sort of sense of duty isn't exactly the best place to start any relationship, and we're both suffering from some trauma, rationally you should-” Hands cup his face and he looks up into Virgil's half-smile.

“Anxiety isn't rational and if you're willing to put in the work, I am too.” The other half of his smile pulls up. “Can I have my hug now?” Logan pulls him forward desperately, landing Virgil in his lap, wrapping his arms around as much of the other as he can. Neither sides says anything about the sobs that shake them both as they drink in each others presence. They don't talk until they've managed to rearrange into a more comfortable position some time later, Logan leaning against the door, Virgil sideways in his lap, leaning on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. “What now?” Virgil murmurs. “I'd like to clean your wounds, and you should eat something, and then-” “No, uh, I mean, us?” Logan frowned in thought. “Well, I'd want to start of as friends first, as in any good partnership, but eventually, I mean, I'm friends with Patton, but with you, the label...” “It's not quite right.” “Yes, exactly. Already, you're not just a friend to me. I'd like a word that fully encompasses how important you are to me.” He blushes and leans in to kiss the top of Virgil's head to hide his face but sees the clotted blood and rests his hand there instead, frowning slightly. “Queer-platonic.” Virgil blurts quickly, like it's a plaster he needs to rip off. “Could you repeat that, please?” “Uh, queer-platonic. I, um, found it when I was googling aromanticism on tumblr-” “Googling... on tumblr?” “Shut up.” “Ok, but I'm judging you.” Virgil snickers. “Whatever. It's different things to different people, some kiss, some don't, some have sex, some don't, some are open, some aren't, but basically it's saying this is my life partner in whatever way we choose, and it's special without being romantic. Uh, could we... , um, could that be...our label?” Virgil's nervousness is at once both endearing and a reminder to treat him carefully. Logan strokes over Virgil's cheekbone. “It sounds perfect. We can choose what we want it to be when we get there.” Virgil smiles tiredly, his expression so much more open than usual. “Lookin' forward to it.”

(Some time later)

“Where's your first aid kit?” “Above the sink in the bathroom, through that door.... Logan, what's this?” “That's your breakfast, is it not obvious?” “Darling, precisely none of these are breakfast foods.” “It should not matter what food you eat at what time so long as it has the right balance of nutrients.” “I'm kind of scared to ask what you had for your breakfast.” “Leftover pasta with kale and I added strawberry yoghurt for dairy.” “Not all at...?” “It doesn't matter how in enters your body, Virgil. It all gets mixed up with hydrochloric acid anyway.” “Eww. No kissing. I've decided, kissing is off the table. I'm not going near a mouth that's had yoghurt and kale in it at the same time.” “Humph. I have found the antiseptic wipes, pass me your arm.” “So, go on, explain my breakfast to me, oh cleverest one.” “Well, you have a yoghurt for dairy and broccoli for vitamins-” “Raw.” “Cooking drains the vitamins, stop squirming.” “It stings.” “You are what I believe Roman would call an 'edge-lord', I'm sure you can handle it. There is a ham and egg sandwich for protein and carbohydrates.” “Ok, but I'm sure the leftover pizza doesn't fit into a well-balanced meal.” “It's your favourite.” “Aw, you risked Patton's wrath to seize the forbidden pizza for me. You do love me.” “Yes, that is an accurate statement.” “Stop it, you'll make me blush and I don't have my foundation on. Wait.... is that.... an entire cucumber?” “Ah, yes, that's your drink.” “....” “I, uh, can't figure out Roman's fancy coffee machine and we've run out of juice.” “Water, Logan, water. Or even tea, I guess.” “I was stressed and I panicked.” “And grabbed a cucumber?” “It's 96% water?” “I thought you were logical!” “I am the literal personification of Logic! However I will admit I am not always entirely rational. Come into the light, I want to do your face next.” “Hang on, I'm thirsty.” Virgil snagged the cucumber with his now clean left arm and wandered after his favourite person, making a show of snapping off the end and gnawing at the flesh.

AN: The fandom: Logan eats books

Me: oh, you haven’t heard?

[a-splash-of-stucky]

I Know This Game | Ten

Pairings: Bucky x Foster!Reader

Summary: One year later. 

Warnings: Talk of depression and mental health issues. Angst (it’s mild, I promise). Implied sexual content.

Notes: Takes place exactly one year after the events in Chapter 9. I think we all secretly wanted this ending to happen? No? Just me? Okay, well, enjoy it anyway. Title from ‘Hopeless’ by Halsey.

IKTG Masterlist

Today is a momentous day.

That thought has been running through your head on a continuous loop, like a song stuck on repeat.

You’re up to your eye-balls in work, but your concentration is broken when the door to your office creaks open and Maria steps in, a stack of folders in the crook of one arm, a mug of tea in her other hand. Leaning back in your chair, you stretch your arms over your head to work out the kinks in your shoulders.

“Dr Strange has just left. He asked for me to pass these to you,” Maria says, as she places the folders in front of you and sets the mug on your floral coaster. “Dr Cho is finishing in about five minutes,”. Her demeanour is brusque as always as she relays messages and updates from your colleagues.

It’s a scene that takes place at the end of everyday, something so routine that you know exactly how many steps Maria will take from the door to your desk. But today, something feels off, different.

Or maybe, that’s just you.

“Thanks, Maria,” you murmur absentmindedly, “I don’t need anything else from you today, so if Helen’s got nothing for you either, then you can clock off for the night,”. Maria nods curtly, then pivots on her heel and stalks out through your door.

How funny. You remember her executing that same move -- with the same level of calculated precision, of course -- a year ago.

You take a sip of your tea and marvel at how drastically your professional life has changed in the last year. Such changes are not just limited your work, obviously; every aspect of your life has undergone significant changes in the last few months, but you’re especially proud of the journey your professional life has taken. You’re no longer the person you used to be. Things have changed for the better, and you can’t help but note how starkly opposed your present- and past-selves are.

For one thing, you’ve taken on more responsibilities within your clinic. Your practice has come far in the last year, gaining recognition as an excellent rehabilitation resource for war veterans. Due to the influx of patients clamouring to see you, not to mention the variety of traumas they’ve experienced, you’ve been forced to employ more specialised personnel.

Your first hire was Dr Stephen Strange, an arrogant bastard who you’ve grudgingly come to accept as a colleague. On occasion, his cock-sure attitude, condescending way of talking and snide remarks still grate on your nerves, but he is, undoubtedly, gifted at his craft. Strange is a physical therapist, working with patients that have sustained traumatic physical injuries. He may not be the nicest of people to work with, but he is an excellent physiotherapist, so you’re willing to retain some semblance of professionalism around him.

Dr Helen Cho, by contrast, is far more likeable, and, though you wouldn’t exactly call her a friend, she is most definitely more than just a colleague; a true pleasure to be around. Helen runs a group therapy session once a day, aimed at veterans who are seeking help, but are not yet brave enough to see a doctor on their own. She is an expert in up-and-coming alternative treatments to PTSD, and absolutely skilled in her field of work.

With a sigh, you flip through the stack of folders, dreading the task of inputting these notes into your digital archives. Paperwork can wait until tomorrow, you decide. It’s not like you’re going to get anything done right now, anyway, not with the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around as restlessly as they currently are. You pack up your things, switch off the lights in your office, then wave cheery goodbye to Maria on your way out.

—————————

The train, as per usual, arrives five minutes late. Because you’ve left the clinic a little earlier than normal, you’ve managed to avoid the worst of the rush hour and — bonus — snagged a seat for yourself. It’s about a twenty minute ride back to your station, so you settle in, lean your head against the window and shut your eyes, hoping that maybe you can doze off for a bit.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, killing that dream.

Nat: Barnes is going mad

You smile to yourself, thumb hovering over the keyboard to type an answer when, not seconds later, another message comes through.

Steve: Hope you’re coping better than he is

Bucky must have worked himself into quite the state for both Nat and Steve to text you about it.

After tapping out a quick reply to them both, you turn your phone to silent mode, then slip it back into your pocket. Now that thoughts of Nat and Steve have cropped up in your head, it’s hard to shove them away.

You recall the day you went back to the compound for the first time. You were apprehensive — understandably so. Steve was the first person to greet you and he had taken it particularly bad. He’d been your first and closest friend out of the Avengers, so of course your leave would have had a severe impact on him. 

You just weren’t aware of how severe it would turn out to be.

Steve had practically thrown himself at your feet, wrapped his gangly arms around your legs and sobbed his heart out. He blubbered a thousand apologies as you clumsily stroked his hair, trying to get him to calm down. It was quite the shock to see the normally-composed Cap tear down his barriers so publicly, letting his vulnerabilities show. You’d been overwhelmed.

Tony, of course, had tried inject humour into the situation — you distinctly remember him calling Steve a ‘melting Capsicle’ — to no avail. Even Sam had looked pretty taken aback by Steve’s rare display of raw emotion. But, Steve’s breakdown encouraged everyone on the team to come clean with you, and apologies were said all around.

Later that day, you and Natasha had a long chat with each other. She apologised for her role in deceiving you, and you apologised for ever thinking about her in a negative light. Nat was also quick to assure you that Bucky had never done anything sexual with her whilst you were in a relationship with him.

The whole day had been surreal, to say the least.

It had been difficult, initially, trying to find your place within the group once you’d unearthed their big secret. Things had been awkward, conversations had been stilted, and for a while, it seemed as if there was no way you could ever regain the closeness that you once had. But, over time, you patched up the canvas that held you all together, weaving new threads of friendship, one memory at a time.

Though you keep in contact with the team, you make a point to not see them too often. You update them of new developments in your life, even join them for a movie night every now and then, but keep your distance besides that. These last twelve months have been a journey of self-discovery, a year for you to become a stronger, more in dependent woman.

Nat teasingly called it your year of self-love. The phrase has been truer in more ways than one; not being in a relationship means that you’ve had to get…creative in taking care of your bodily needs.

One of the discoveries you made on this so-called ‘journey’ of yours is the wonderfully therapeutic act of baking. You’ve never been one to cook — let alone bake — before this, but when the hobby suggestion was given to you, you thought no harm in giving it a try. Since then, you’ve mastered an impressive array of delicacies, ranging from the humble chocolate chip cookie, to the far more extravagant mixed-berry pavlova.

Besides baking, you’ve also been making a conscious effort to take a break and relax. Your last proper holiday happened before you started working with the Avengers, so the trip you took with Jane and Darcy to Bali was well overdue. It had been nice, kicking back by the poolside or beach, drink in hand, until the sun’s rays became too hot and you had to retreat into the coolness of your villa. Entertainment was not hard to come by; an exuberant Frenchman by the name of Dernier was completely enamoured with Darcy, and you and Jane spent much of your time giggling over his efforts to ask her out on a date.

You’d also taken a spa trip with Wanda and Peggy — an all-expense-paid one, at that, courtesy of Tony Stark. It was his way of saying sorry to you. It had been a retreat filled with massages, classical music, and many an intriguing chat with the girls.

But beyond vacations and new hobbies, you’re also striving to remember to cut yourself some slack in your daily life. It’s all the little things, really, like getting a facial or manicure every now and then, going on shopping sprees with the girls, not heaping too much work onto your plate; minor lifestyle changes, that have all hugely improved your headspace.

—————————

The apartment is empty when you arrive, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. On the one hand, it means that you can get ready for tonight in peace. On the other hand, it means that you’ll be alone with your thoughts for longer, with no one to distract you. You head into your bedroom, strip off your clothes, dump them in the laundry hamper, then jump into the shower.

You’d long ago decided not to tell anyone what your final decision would be. In part, this was because you believed that you needed to have a talk with Bucky first, before announcing the final outcome to everyone else. Mostly though, you decided to keep your musings to yourself because you’re not supposed to even have thought about the situation until today.

But of course, with you being you, you couldn’t help but dwell on the future of your relationship with Bucky for the better part of the last month. A lot of deliberation has gone into planning your next step; you’ve had many a long-distance phone call with Jane, and several lengthy discussions with Wanda and Peggy. Even Steve weighed in on the subject, at one point.

The thing is, there’s a lot more to consider now. You have a history with Bucky and the rest of the team. You have a practice that you can’t abandon, not when it’s just starting to pick up; it’s been your dream to open a clinic of your own ever since you completed your doctorate.

So many arrangements had been devised and discarded, in your quest to come up with the perfect solution to fit your needs. Of course, you still need to talk to Bucky to figure out how his needs fit into the equation, but you’re at least comforted by the fact that you have a solid game plan to adhere to when you see him tonight.

You haven’t seen Bucky in over two months. The two of you have been meeting sporadically over the past year. Sometimes he’ll take you out for a meal, sometimes you’ll go to the compound just to say hi. You have a chat over the phone with him once a month or so, just to catch up on things. Though you’re not as close with him as you used to be, there has never been any tension or ill-feelings between you two. What you have with Bucky is something special; even if you’ve gone weeks without talking, you can pick up right where you left off, no awkwardness or fumbling around in the process.

Bucky has kept his promise, not pushing or pressuring you to make a decision before you were ready to make one. In fact, discussion of your future, whatever it may hold, hasn’t even cropped up in a conversation — that is after all, what tonight is all about. You’re glad that Bucky has stayed true to his word; you’ve needed the last year to find your footing in the world, and that would not have been possible if you’d been in a relationship.

—————————

After swathing yourself in an enormous fluffy towel, you pad over to your closet and start rifling through your clothes, trying to decide what to wear. You’re aiming for something that is the right balance of casual and fancy, without looking like you tried too—

Wait. Why are you getting so stressed out about this? It’s only Bucky. He’s seen you looking worse.

In the end, you opt for a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt with a dark grey sweater on top. When you catch your reflection in the mirror, you laugh, realising that this outfit is not dissimilar from the one you pulled on all those months ago. To make yourself look a tad more presentable, you decide to put on a little bit of makeup.

Jane calls you just as you’re adding the finishing touches.

“Y/N!” she chirps.

“Hey Jane, what’s up?” you answer, switching the phone to speaker-mode and setting it on top of your dresser so that you can apply your lipstick.

“Just calling to wish you good luck,” she sing-songs.

You chuckle. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna need it,”.

“Nervous?” Jane teases.

“A little,” you admit, “I know it’s just Bucky, but it’s…it’s Bucky. It’s a big discussion we’re having and I—I don’t know if I’m making the right choice,”.

“Well, I’ll support you no matter what,” Jane assures you, “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re gonna do great, Y/N. You’re a stronger person than you were 365 days ago. I guess all those sessions with Dr Banner really paid off, huh?”

“Yeah, they really did,” you murmur.

After the events of the day which you and those closest to you simply refer to as R-Day (short for reveal day), you realised that perhaps talking to someone would be of benefit to you. An impartial third party, somebody who could give you an unbiased external opinion. When you resigned from your position as the Avengers’ private therapist, Dr Banner had been employed as your replacement. Pepper — somehow — found out that you were seeking psychological help for yourself and immediately referred you to him, even going as far as offering to take care of the bill.

That woman will never fail to astound you with her capacity for generosity.

Dr Banner had diagnosed you with situational depression, most likely as a result of  the traumatic events of you losing Bucky and the rest of your Avengers family. In hindsight, you, as a trained professional yourself, should have recognised the symptoms; that’s a fact that Peggy continues to give your grief over. You’ve had a few meetings with Dr Banner — nothing extensive, and certainly nothing as intense as the sessions you’ve been trained to deliver — but what talks you have had with him have certainly been helpful. You feel comforted, knowing that the team is in the hands of such a capable man.

“Helloooo? Earth to Y/N? Did you even hear what I just said?” Jane asks, snapping you out of your daze.

“Huh? What? No, I didn’t get it,” you mumble distractedly.

“I said don’t freak out, just say everything that’s on your chest and things will work out fine. If you’re meant to be together, it’s going to happen,” she repeats.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumble, “You’re not the one doing the talking,”.

Jane huffs out a laugh. “I have faith in you,” she says simply, “And I also have a feeling that Bucky will accept whatever decision you make,”.

“I sure hope so,” you sigh.

“Call me afterwards, okay?”

“You got it. Bye Jane,”.

After giving yourself a once-over in the mirror one final time, you grab your purse and step out of your bedroom. Wanda is in the kitchen, work clothes still on, fixing herself a sandwich. She glances up and gives you a smile, which then turns into a small frown when she sees your outfit.

“You’re going to see him?” she asks stiffly.

You nod. “I’m just about to leave,”.

When you told Wanda and Peggy about your night in the diner, suffice it to say, they didn’t immediately believe Bucky’s story. Unlike you, they were not previously in love with him and did not have your deep understanding of his character. They’d seen you after your breakup, when you were at the lowest point in your life, and the memories from that time had left them with a bitter opinion of him. Both felt that Bucky’s story was too far-fetched.

So, in an attempt to convince Wanda and Peggy that Bucky was sincere in his apology, you’d arranged for the three of them to have lunch together. According to Bucky, who called you afterwards, it had been an intense affair, with him getting absolutely grilled by your two closest friends. He hadn’t gone into much detail, but from the slight shakiness to his voice, you could tell that the encounter had terrified him. Bucky had vowed to never get on Peggy or Wanda’s bad side ever again.

Later, Peggy had come back to the apartment and proudly announced that she’d given Bucky a tremendously forceful slap. Typical.

But since then, Peggy has become more accepting of the idea of you and Bucky potentially getting back together. Wanda still has her reservations; she’s always been the more cautious and less trusting of the two.

Now, she steps around the kitchen island and walks over to you, eyes flicking up and down, giving you an appraising glance. “You look good,”, she says, rather abruptly.

“Uh…thanks?” you reply, somewhat taken aback by her bluntness.

Wanda graces you a tiny smile. “Good luck, Y/N. I think I know what your decision might be, and I know nothing I can say will change it, but just — be sure about it, okay?”

“I’m just doing what I think is best for me,”.

“Good,” she says, “That’s all I can ask for,”.

—————————

Scott’s diner is only twenty-five minutes away from your apartment on foot, so you decide to walk it, since you’re still a little bit early, anyway.

The nerves are kicking into high-gear now, butterflies putting on a circus show in your stomach. You’ve been impatiently anticipating this hour for the last week and been an emotional wreck most of that time. In all honesty, thoughts of this day have been hovering in the back of your mind for the past few months. You’re jittery, over-excited, but most of all, nervous — anxious to discover how Bucky will react to your decision. Wondering whether or not he will accept it.

You turn a corner and there in front of you, is Scott’s diner, looking as unimposing as ever. It’s fitting that you’re meeting Bucky here — it’s a place that has significant meaning to the both of you. What’s ironic is that though you as a person have developed so dramatically in the last year, this place has not. Scott has continued to save up for the extensive renovation plans he has in mind, but money is hard to come by, so he makes do with what he has.

Bucky is already there when you arrive, sitting at the same table you sat at a year ago, dressed in jeans and grey henley with a leather jacket on top. His expression brightens when you step into the diner.

“Y/N!” he calls, standing up to greet you, pulling you into a brief hug, “It’s so good to see you,”.

Scott’s new part-time waiter, Peter, dashes over to hand you your menu as you take your seat. 

“It’s great to see you too, Bucky,” you say, your lips quirking up into a gentle smile. He’s nervous, you can tell. Bucky’s hair looks like he’s raked his fingers through it a hundred times, several strands having already fallen out of his little man-bun. There’s an apprehensive flicker in his eyes.

Because today seems to be full of parallels from the past, you and Bucky opt for the exact same dishes that you got last time; him, the pancakes with a double helping of sausages, you, the chocolate chip pancakes and a strong coffee. Sure, pancakes are not exactly typical ‘dinner’ food, but then again, Vision’s pancakes are to die for.

Once Peter’s taken your order and cleared the menus, Bucky chews his lip agitatedly, fretting over what to say. You decide to be the one to break the ice.

“At least we’re talking at a more reasonable hour, this time,” you joke, trying to get a laugh out of him.

It works — the corner of his mouth crooks up into a half-smirk. “Yeah, that’s true. Funny how this place hasn’t changed, right?” Bucky asks, glancing around the diner. It’s busier than it was the last time you were here with him, though two-thirds of the tables are still unoccupied.

“I know. It’s kinda strange being back here,” you say, smiling nervously at him.

“Yeah, I—I’ve thought a lot about today, doll, but I still…well, it’s up to you, isn’t it? This is about you and me talking about…us,” Bucky trails off, voice hesitant, betraying his nerves. You have a feeling that you’re not going to perform much better yourself.

“How’re we doing this?” you ask, “I’ve got…things I want to say—,”.

“So do I,” he interjects.

“—and it’s all planned out in my head and everything, so would you like me to start?”

“Ladies first,” Bucky says, shrugging like he doesn’t care.

You snort. “That’s your attitude to everything in life,” you mutter. Then, for good measure, you add, “Sex included,”.

Bucky’s eyes widen and he bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking with mirth. You can practically see the tension leaving his system, making him more relaxed as the seconds tick by. Your heart feels uplifted, seeing him like this. Bucky scrubs a hand over his eyes, sits up a little straighter and endeavours to look at you with a solemn expression on his face.

He almost succeeds.

One glance at your face, the way you’re barely holding in laughter yourself and he loses it again, chuckling uncontrollably. You giggle with him, mostly to dissipate your giddy nerves. “It feels so weird,” you breathe, “I can’t believe we’re here, having this conversation,”.

Bucky shakes his head and clears his throat as his laughter dies down. “Go on, doll,” he urges, “What did you want to tell me?”. It’s apparent that the nerves are starting to creep back in, taunting the edges of his mind. He clasps his fingers together tightly, focusing on them, rather than you.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “Okay, well, first off, I’m going to ask you to do for me what I did for you,”.

“Which is?” he asks, arching an eyebrow inquisitively.

“To not interrupt me. This mini-speech of mine has been well-planned,” you say. 

“Shit, doll,” Bucky murmurs, “You weren’t kidding about this being a proper chat, eh?”

“Nope,” you reply, “So. Do you promise?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately.

At that exact moment, Peter comes dashing over, two plates of food balancing on one arm, a tray bearing two steaming mugs of coffee in the other. With some fumbling, he manages to set everything down on the table without spilling anything, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like sorry for being a klutz, then scampers off to the kitchen, where he is less likely to drop food into diners’ laps.

The kid’s done that to you before. More times than you’d like to admit.

With the momentary interruption over, you turn your attention back to Bucky, who is stoically cutting up his pancakes, resolutely keeping his gaze trained on his fork. 

You clear your throat. “Before I tell you what…what my decision is, I need you to know this,”. You pause, taking a deep breath to steel your nerves. In the silence, Bucky looks up, meeting your gaze with those unwavering, stunning eyes of his.

There’re no other eyes you’d rather look into. That’s where your home is.

“I still love you,” you blurt out.

His breathing hitches. Saying the words lifts an invisible burden from your shoulders; your chest feels lighter, somehow. You haven’t dared to say those words aloud, not even to yourself.

“Really?” Bucky asks tentatively, breathlessly, his eyes wide and wondrous.

“Yes, Bucky. Really,” you say, lightheaded and dizzy with excitement. “And I mean love love, not just ‘I care about you’ love. Romantic feelings,”. 

Bucky is overjoyed, though he’s fighting to not let the emotions show on his face. You can see the flicker of optimism in his eyes though, like he’s breathed an internal sigh of relief.

It pains you to have to say the next bit.

“Don’t get your hopes up, though,” you say softly. No sooner have the words left your mouth does his expression fall, despondent. “Wait, wait!” you cry, “You haven’t heard the full story. It ends well, I promise,”.

Bucky breathes out a shaky sigh, runs his flesh fingers through his already messy hair. “Okay, doll. Continue,”.

You’re silent for a minute, picking your next words with care as you chew on a mouthful of pancake. It’s strange to have to talk to him like this. The conversations you’ve shared over the last year have been carefree and easy, amiable, almost like old times. Being forced to articulate your thoughts in such a precise manner reminds you of the last time you were in this diner having a serious talk with Bucky.

“I want to try again,” you say finally. It’s a blunt statement, but simplicity is not to be underrated in times like these. “I want to be with you again. I’m…I’m in a much better headspace than I was a year ago. I’m—a better version of myself,” you force yourself to pause, to take another calming breath. The sliver of hope has returned to Bucky’s expression, softened his features and put the sparkle back into his eyes. It is his eyes that you focus on when you next speak. “But things are going to be different this time. They have to be different, if we’re gonna make this work out, Bucky,”.

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. In agreement with you on that one,”.

You chew your bottom lip, then blow out a gust of air in a quick whoosh. “Okay, well, for starters, never again. Never keep secrets from me again, I don’t care how big or small they are, never again,” you say firmly. Bucky winces at your unyielding tone, but you power on despite that, because this is the requirement that matters most to you. “I want to be in on your missions, and by that I mean I want to be in the loop. I understand that you have to keep things confidential for security reasons, but you can trust me, Bucky. Besides, if the mission is a big deal for you or me, I think I have a right to know,”.

Bucky shakes his head, a mildly amused smile playing on his plump lips. “I had a feeling you would say something like this,” he admits, “You drive a tough deal, Y/N,”.

“I know,” you reply, “But it’s that or nothing, love,”.

Something is still holding him back, making him unwilling to agree with your terms. You sigh heavily. “The thing is, Bucky,” you say, tone taking on a note of tenderness, “The truth hurts, sometimes. When I—found out…yeah. It hurt me. Hurt like a bitch—,”

“Sorry,” Bucky says automatically.

You smile, “It’s okay. But you’ve got to understand my point, Bucky; the truth hurts, but secrets kill. What you and the rest of the team kept from me? It killed our relationship, my love. I’d rather not see the same thing happen a second time,”.

Bucky is nodding again, slower this time, like he’s deep in thought. “We’ll have to talk to the rest of the team about this,” he says hesitantly, “But I agree with you. Keeping you in the dark is not…it’s not a long term solution. Something needs to change,”.

Relief floods your veins. “You don’t need to worry about me blabbering,” you assure him, “One, that’s not in my nature and two, confidentiality is pretty much my entire life. Have you seen my poker face? My client face is to die for—,”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky laughs, holding a hand up to stop you, the corners of his eyes crinkling with fondness. “I believe you, doll. I get your point. I know you wouldn’t,”.

“Thank you,” you say crisply, “Now, two—,”.

“Oh, there’s more?” he teases

“There’s plenty more. Number two: My practice,”.

“Your clinic?” Bucky asks, cocking his head to the left.

“Yes. My clinic. It is…well, gaining a reputation for itself,” you admit, laughing weakly, a little shy but also proud to talk about this achievement of yours. “Truth be told, I love working there. I want to keep working there,”.

“Of course you—,”

“Which means that,” you say, raising your voice to talk over Bucky as your eyes narrow into a murderous glare, unimpressed by the interruption, “I might be back late. I might…need to bunk with Wanda and Peggy sometimes, to be closer to work. I’m not going to give up something I love just to be with you,”.

You’re reminded of a conversation you had with Jane just a few days after your break-up with Bucky. Her words echo loud and clear, despite the nervous cacophony inside your head.

“Just because the path isn’t clear, or the road is an uphill struggle, doesn’t mean that it’s not feasible. If you love two things, you should be able to have them both,”.

Bucky sighs, smiles wearily. “I know how much it means to you. And, having something that’s yours, your clinic—it’d probably do you good when I’m away on missions and such,”. He hesitates, the reluctance evident in his expression. “Maybe…maybe we can find an alternative location? One that’s a little closer to the compound? I’m sure Tony wouldn’t mind pitching in if you need money for a new space,”.

“Pitching in? He’d probably buy the whole building,” you scoff.

“True,” Bucky concedes, eyes twinkling with the effort of suppressing his laughter. “So what d’you think? Is it a possibility?”

“I’d have to consult with my colleagues, and the move wouldn’t be immediate, but I am open to the idea,” you reply, giving him a smile to soothe his anxiousness.

“Oh good,” he murmurs. A moment of silence passes as the two of you take a few more bites out of your dinner.

“On…a similar train of thought,” you begin, glancing at Bucky through your lashes to make sure that he’s listening, “We come to my next point, which is that I am not returning to be your therapist. Or, well, the team’s therapist,”.

Confusion passes over his features, eyebrows knitting together for a moment, before relaxing again. “We never expected you to,” Bucky says, “You can either be someone’s friend, or their therapist, but you can’t play both roles,”.

You arch an eyebrow, bemused. “Did Sam tell you that?”

Bucky smiles wryly, “Dr Banner, actually. He’s a good doctor. I like him,”.

“I do too,”.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says, face lighting up with curiosity, “You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you? How’s that going?”

“It’s confidential,” you reply, winking knowingly at him.

Bucky rolls his eyes in amusement. “That all? For number three, I mean,”.

“Yes. Just the fact that I’m not being your therapist anymore,” you reply, mentally dusting your hands off as yet another requirement gets ticked off your list. The next ones are harder, so you take a moment to brace yourself internally, collecting your thoughts before you plunge forward.

“Number four is…I want to start from the beginning again,” you tell him, intently watching Bucky’s face for any indication of his thoughts. “We can’t just jump straight into where we were, what we used to be. It’s been a year and a half, Bucky — you’ve changed, I’ve changed…so doing what we used to do might not work,”

“So what’re you suggesting?” Bucky asks, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back, narrowing his eyes in doubt.

“I’m suggesting that we start all over. I’m talking dates, flowers, chocolates, the whole she-bang,”.

“Wow,” Bucky mutters, eyebrows rising in surprise, “You want to be wooed, huh?”

“With your classic forties charm, sugar,” you quip, mimicking his Brooklyn drawl. The lightness of the moment quickly evaporates when you next speak. “It also means that…I don’t want to move into the compound, just yet. I’ll explain why in a bit, but…if we’re going to be dating, in order for it to be the most authentic it can be, I think us living apart, at least initially, would be good,”.

You can see how heavily your decision weighs on him. It’s not the outcome he would have liked, that much is apparent. Your heart twinges with sympathy and you yearn to wrap your arms around Bucky and kiss the pain away.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your eyes downcast. It’s not enough; two words will never be enough to convey the full extent of the emotions you feel for him right now, but they are the only two words that come into your mind, the only phrase that even comes close to being adequate.

The corner of his lip twitches. “No. Don’t be,” Bucky says, “It’s—okay. I understand why you’d say that,”. He sighs, leaning back in his chair as he combs his fingers through his hair yet again. “I just—yeah. I know it’s selfish, but I was hoping you’d be ready to jump right back in,” he admits ruefully, “But I see your point. It’s…this is the rational thing to do,”.

“I’m…glad you see where I’m coming from,” you say, relief evident in your tone. This particular condition you knew would be hard for him to accept. In all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure if he would accept it. “I know it’s hard for you. But…what I have to say next is harder,”.

Bucky presses his gloved metal hand over his heart. “I have braced myself,” he says solemnly.

You smile, humoured despite the sombre situation. “Just because we’re getting back together, doesn’t mean…we’ll stay together — aww, no don’t give me that look!” you protest, as the corner of his mouth slip into a frown and a crease develops between his brows.

“Hear me out, okay? I love you,” you say, with all the conviction you can muster, “I really, really, do, with all my heart. I want to make this work, Bucky, but…me saying yes now, is not me saying ‘yes I’ll be with you forever’. Like I said, we’ve changed. It’s part of the reason why I’m not ready to move back into the compound. I want us to date for a bit, see if we’re still compatible and…take it from there,”.

A moment of silence passes. 

“You’re so sensible,” Bucky chuckles, finally. There’s a note wistfulness to his voice, as if he wishes that things didn’t have to be this way. “Again, yes, I see your point. I’m so glad it’s you doing this negotiation business, doll, I just would’a stuffed things up,”.

“So…you’re agreeing to it?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you stay, I’ll do it,” he agrees, as he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “I’ll fuckin’ pluck the moon out of the skies if that’s what you asked me to do,”.

“Don’t give me ideas,” you mutter.

Bucky tips his head, an acknowledgement that he’s heard you, but makes no further comment for a while, just circles his thumb against your wrist, expression pinched — you can only imagine what thoughts are flying through his head right now.

This is really happening, you realise. The reality of the situation is finally sinking in. This is the moment you’ve been building yourself up to. Though you’ve doubted yourself and questioned your decisions in the last few months, you know that you won’t have any regrets about this. You’re surprised by how content your are, how at peace you’re feeling. 

This feels right. 

This is the right decision. You’ve had your moment of doubt, but talking to Bucky has cleared the skies, blown away the dark, mysterious storm clouds hanging over your head like a bad omen.

There has been nothing you’ve felt more sure about in your entire life. This man — this gorgeous, stunning, kind-hearted soul — sitting in front of you is the person you want to be with.

He’s the person you’re meant to be with.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers. “Thank you for coming back. I—I’ll do everything I can and more to keep you this time, okay? Remember what I said? I want you to win this game, for once in your life,”.

“Oh darling,” you breathe, “I already have,”.

--------------------------------- Condensed tags: @feelmyroarrrr @valkyeries @hollycornish @buckingoffthebed @moonbeambucky @sanjariti @in-winchester-we-trust @badassbaker @retroasgardian @lostinspace33 @waywardpumpkin @jurassicbarnes @buchonians @katielu-blog @alohabucky @sarahmatthews7 @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @toongtii  @barnesdeservestheworld @amrita31199 @amour-quinn @ugh-supersoldiers

[archangelmichaelus-blog]

Astrological summary 2019-2021. Ready for a Pole-Shift?

Earth level

For all those who want an easy summary…. Jupiter is in his home, the Sagittarius, and is ready to dispense his blessings. He is pretty much having a good time with Neptune. Together they build big dreams, with enthusiasm and even love.  You are launching wonderful projects. Mars is ready to give all his energy for action to happen,   often in synchronicity with Uranus.

Uranus would prefer to challenge or innovate the system big time, give a kick in the projects that Neptune and Mars want to manifest. Uranus likes to create upheavals… gilets jaunes for instance… But… Saturn, time, might still be eating his children…. Saturn says: “slow down, not yet, not enough wisdom, still karma to handle… not until you have definitively dealt with my friend Pluto,  Lord of Underworld”. In his corner, Mercury tries to find a solution, to organize things better with the help of the Capricorn or just make sense of the situation.

Heaven level (Hypothesis)

The forever big guys have a conversation. Jupiter, on Skype, calling Saturn, in his home, the Capricorn, who happens to entertain a guest and friend, Pluto, Lord of Hades and Death.  Jupiter, an Earthly king, is ready to be kingly and distribute bounties; In close collaboration with the Old Dragon and the Cosmic Lords, Jupiter prepares to pull out his sword and free the Earth-Axis, with Mars. But the situation might be too explosive. Saturn, his father, is advising patience. Cranking the system, time, darkness, finances is on schedule, but the Underworld is still full of people on probation. Pluto cannot release them unless they finish their time or get kicked by the gangs. More harmony is needed between Mars and Venus, which could happen at the next eclipse (January 20-21).

-That won’t be enough, says the Old Dragon, unless enough humans can access the dimensional and time portal, we  MIGHT HAVE TO IMPOSE A DRASTIC MOVE, eventually a POLE SHIFT.

– Saturn: Yeah, a little more time; why don’t we wait a few months, when we can all gather in my home, Capricornus? (January 2020).

-The Old Dragon:  maybe, but, still too early…. we need more couple therapy for Sun and Moon. Moon wants to dominate the dance.  The specific tango staged in 2003, takes 6586 steps. This specific act, this dance, will end in May-June 2021. We have chances to end this part of the play smoothly. Remember, this was the wish expressed by My Heavenly Counterpart, the Archangel Michael, in 2003.  

“A geometrical form emerged from Heaven, magnificent and radiant… the Celestial Jerusalem is now anchored on Earth, as announced in the prophecies….the main vortex of Mont Saint Michel is being activated, overshadowed by the New Jerusalem. The Archangel Michael says: “it is time to reconstruct the poles. A movement of the vortices is starting… if I direct the movement slowly, with kindness and compassion, we will be able to avoid a brutal reaction of the physical bodies of the planet, and thus, as much as possible, spare the human race.” etc

(More in the books Kiss for Lucifer, annex, Cosmic Love: timelines and Wesak reports 2001 and 2003).1/6/19 The Archangel Michael Speaks… less and less because everyone knows everything…

The world in general, everyone wants to be seen and be in power; in 3D, the situation manifests into impossible governability mixed with disillusion about democracy and globalism. In truth, men have rightfully discovered segments of truth about self, religions, Aliens, about spirituality and science.  Yet, they cannot see the big picture and are still polishing their low ego. In consequence, they have decided that God is dead instead of rephrasing the meaning of God and gods, and how to joyfully merge with the Universal Consciousness. The result is a possible fracture between the Spiritual Hierarchies and the human world.  We can cut the umbilical cord between a mother and a baby. But, no one can decide to live separated from What sustains Life Itself, from Consciousness manifested in many layers, one of them being your Spiritual Government. This fracture might come with consequences, more struggle than needed to ascend.

In truth, the Archangel Michael, My Spiritual Self, does not speak to human beings; as His/My Consciousness are so far out that such an exercise is impossible. Yet, My Consciousness has generated an Embodiment of Myself, an expression and anchor for My Frequency. This Embodiment has been overshadowed, performing specific tasks, teaching and guiding mankind, leading its evolution. An Embodiment is a precious tool, for the spiritual Hierarchies and for humans. It is a bridge between realities that mostly do not connect.

In other words, I, the Embodiment can transmit information about the Earth and human reality to Higher levels of Consciousness, easing the Earth transformational process. And… I can give you some clues. Do you like driving with your eyes closed? That is exactly what most humans do. How can you efficiently assist the Earth, your neighbors, and your family while stopping to use the compass that the universe compassionately provided for you?

What have you understood, integrated with the last 5 articles (Since John Dee)? How have you used this knowledge in your personal life? Ok, you are not Dee and this is none of your business.  The astrological trends are way over your head and you still do not know how to use them? Remember, we can work on that together.

Do you know what astral cyclic mechanisms can help you navigate life? The easiest one to consider in the present is the arrival of Jupiter in his house, the Sagittarius. Again, easy, just remember what you were focusing on 12 years ago.  Have you grasped how to use the eclipses, 4 to 5 windows per year?

It seems that readers did not comprehend the full meaning of the last article: Human journey between Sirius and Vega. I am trying not to make predictions for the future, but I thought that the audience who has followed my teachings for years would get it. So, do we need a webinar? Or is it time to reset your vibration and consciousness with a retreat? That’s what retreats and workshops are about. Re-center, focus on spiritual matters, reset. Remove all worldly affairs and interferences for a few days; meet again your soul as well as the Archangel Frequency, My Frequency.

An answer to one of our readers: ABOUT DISEASE AND SELF-HEALING:

(I am repeating the same things, but it seems necessary. Dear One, we spoke about your problem on our very first meeting, and again later, a few times).

Disease and pain are the body’s manifestation of:

Inner world: you and you

– Inner struggle: you in the third dimension, fighting with your soul, your karma, your purpose. Self-demolition.

– Inner pain: you, dealing with or denying a trauma, a situation and all the consequences of this trauma on your personality, life, perceptions, and body.

Fight with the outer world:

Dealing with the environment: weather, wind, sun, work, viruses, cars and trees (creating accidents) …. entities, implants …. and people!

Others imposing their will, their desires, their needs on you and your unhealthy response to the situations.

Others imposing their energies on you: this is the ultimate consequence of all the above and has many manifestations that translate into diseases.

First-aid-kit: read again several chapters of the Book I Am That I Am: Subconscious, karma, energy relationships and APPLY the techniques. Oh, the book is not on Kindle… bad… when is the last time that you have cut the links with others? Or, have you ever cut the energy connections with almost everyone as recommended in the book? The only beings that you are not suggested to nicely clean out of your energy field are the babies and young children. All the rest is complaisance and complicity.

Or, is your denial so deep that you did it with such compassion for your abusers that they became your vampire-lovers? That’s exactly what humans do. Better marry a vampire than navigating life alone. As you see, I am in the mood for humor.

PRAYER:

Prayer, praying for self and receiving other’s prayers is a good tool at the moment. It helps to keep the head of out the water or to decrease the pain, but it is a band-aid if the problem has not been identified and dealt with.

Denial and the habit of pushing the dirt under the carpet are the most convenient way to avoid facing the mirror and continue being a victim. 

INVASIONS of YOUR ENERGY FIELD and BODY:

How it translates: invasion of one or more of your chakras. This is the easiest and most common cause of disease. If you cannot see or feel your chakras, just clean them every month or every spring, like your house! (again, I Am Book). Some examples:

Sexual organs and area: invasion of the second chakra, physically, by force, abuse or emotional struggle (i.e. the lack of respect of a husband, a drunk; last of self-respect: sleeping with someone that you do not want to be with because it is convenient!).

Loss of love: most breast cancers are the consequences of emotional traumas and losses.

Sexual parasites and all forms of itching: invasion by a human or by an entity

Digestive and abdomen pain, dysfunction, inflammation:

Always the reflection of the problem with other’s power or personal power. In work and family situations, in the couple, there is always the same question: who is in power and can we deal with not being the one in power? A consensus exists. Is it what we wish or not?

Then, if there is a struggle, people just jump in other’s 3rd chakra and stay there forever, incognito. As most do not ever deal with that, they will have to marry again or be abused again by the same person in the next incarnation!

The disease can also occur if you are powerful, yet not in the right position to exert your power accordingly => self – disbalance. Example: a bright young man with a high IQ, who did not go to school and has to flip burgers for a living.

Back, lower back pain, degenerating in pinched nerves, back surgery: something, generally someone finds you and your energy very attractive and tasteful and decided to eat your substance (spiritual vampire). Find the culprit and get your back straight again and pain-free.

Inflammation of the nerves: neck, back: a foreign energy, often an entity is attached to you.

Headaches: many roots, difficult to summarize in a few words. What is the area affected? Liver and Gall bladder are most often the culprits. It can also be a friendly visit in your crown chakra, and that could affect your thinking process, your nervous system.

HOW to use HOMEOPATHIC SESSIONS:

One session, isolated within a few years, is rarely enough, because the homeopath needs to clean up the system (motor oil and filters), work on the last layers of  disbalance (the accident of last summer, the antibiotics are taken in hast, the grief of losing a friend), then, then, reset your life-force.

We recommend a follow-up session every 4- 6 months, or when your body is honestly screaming that there is a crisis to deal with. If you are never sick or know how to rebalance yourself after each of the above, bravo. As long as your body did not become a burden, all is perfect.

Love and Blessings

[torentialtribute]

GB hockey star Danson banged her head laughing. It was a small knock but the repercussions were huge

Alex Danson can now laugh. She can also play a bit. A polite term, she says, but when she wanders around the field around her house, those short, slow steps feel better than just about anything in the world.

& # 39; Heavenly & # 39 ;, she calls it. "Freedom." And then a smile that is followed by a sigh because she knows it's progress and she also knows it's sad. She knows where she was and where she is and she can only hope for where she could ever return. She knows that the Tokyo Olympic Games are rising fast, only 11 months away, and yet the last 11 have been slow and painful.

& # 39; It was so difficult & # 39 ;, she says. & # 39; Sometimes the soul destroys. & # 39; But now she can jog and that is finally something closer to normal.

It's the everyday things that make Alex Danson's traumatic experience so shocking

For 10 months she could and could not. Just like she needed help to go to the bathroom for two months. Just like she couldn't go to a coffee shop or watch television for six months, or watch a screen to check emails for seven hours, and she couldn't stay a minute without a headache for nine years. They would vary between acceptable and unbearable, but they were always there, every minute of every day. Nine months.

Now there are hours that it doesn't hurt. Now she doesn't have to wear sunglasses or sleep 15 hours or faint on the bathroom floor or hit back when her brother laughs. No. That has all been improved. Slow, terribly slow, and there is still so much to do.

But it is better to get started. And so, this week celebrating the three-year anniversary of winning hockey gold in Britain at the Rio Olympics, she can almost grin the moment she laughed and bumped her head against a wall.

& # 39; It was on September 1 of last year – the detail is engraved in my mind, or maybe it should be the back of my head, & # 39; she says.

Danson, now 34, had just finished the World Cup where England, under her captain, had lost in the quarterfinals, just with her boyfriend, Alex Bennett, she escaped to Kenya for a vacation. had been kite surfing in Watamu when Danson one night laughed at her partner's joke. & # 39; I threw my head back and just hit it against a wall. It was about the height of my shoulders, so my head hit the top. No car accident, no fall, not unconscious. I just put my head on a wall.

Danson hit her head against a wall while smiling at a joke told by her friend Alex Bennett

& I laughed it a bit strange but immediately knew it wasn't right. That night I woke up every hour. That was the first sign. I had had a concussion three times before and thought: & # 39; Come on, not during my first big vacation in 18 years. & # 39;

& # 39; I made a mistake the next morning. I suppose it's a habit of sports people to pick up an injury, so Alex and I started running. I felt good, so I thought: "Great, no concussion". When we returned to the hotel room, everything turned around. And that was really the start.

We had five days left and I felt sick all the time, huge headaches. On the drive to the airport I kept my head in tears. Every time we hit a bump, it was terrible. When we arrived on the plane, a flight attendant asked Alex if I was even OK to fly. He said that I was fine, but you would not believe how it went as soon as we returned. & # 39;

Danson sits in a chair deliberately away from direct light in the beautiful house built by Bennett, a project developer, near the market town of Romsey, Hampshire. Her Olympic gold and bronze medals are wrapped in socks in a drawer and there is no memorabilia from a career that places her as England's most capped current player and the top scorer of a nation in London 2012 and Rio 2016.

Danson tells her story while she is sitting in a chair that is intentionally turned away from direct light light

That life seemed to be so far in the last 11 months and Danson wants her experiences with some mildly traumatic brain injury to be instructive for others who may suffer head injury. She does this interview, her first with a daily newspaper.

In summary, she says: & # 39; I waited until about the ninth day after the accident to go to a doctor despite constant headaches. That was another mistake, just like not reporting your symptoms enough, which I did. I was getting ready for an all-powerful crash and I had a few weeks after returning.

& # 39; I had missed hockey for a few weeks and the team from England was on their way to the Champions Trophy in November. I stated that as a goal, which was ridiculous because I had been in a terrible state since flying back.

& # 39; I would be in the house for 24 hours with dark glasses, in bed, sleeping for 15 hours. My head hurt every second. But I pushed to show that I could play, so I went to the specialist and did a Buffalo test as part of the concussion protocol – you walk on a treadmill when the ascent rate increases and you report how you feel. I reported too little and when I went home I was in pieces.

& # 39; The next day I cried and needed help from Alex to go to the bathroom. It felt like a chainsaw had gone through my mind.

Danson wants her experiences with what is a mild traumatic brain injury to help others

& # 39; Two days later there was a squad day, doing team building things, painting egg cups. I went and the wheels came off. The only thing I can remember was that I was with a teammate and when I started to say something, I suddenly realized I couldn't talk. I started to panic, but it was almost at the end and I just wanted to crawl away without making a scene.

I came home but my body suddenly became ice cold and then hot. The next thing I knew was that I had fainted in my bathroom. I called the team doctor and was rushed to the hospital. I had an attack there – the only one I've had – and they held me for a few days. & # 39;

Danson pauses. "I couldn't believe what was going on – a few months after I had led my country to a World Cup, I couldn't go to the toilet alone and I was in the hospital after an attack."

A scary aspect of Danson's injury and so much is that it has never been shown on a scan. There is a theory among her doctors that there may have been a bleeding, but no picture has supported this. Similarly, it is difficult to know whether Danson's post-trauma exercises have contributed to the severity of her subsequent problems.

The worst symptoms only started to decrease in the last eight weeks, nine to 10 months after the accident. .

Danson has been absent for 19 years from the sport she has contested at international level

& # 39; Light and sound have been particularly bad & # 39 ;, she says. & # 39; In the first few months, the sound of putting down a coffee cup made me physically unwell. My brother will not mind telling me that, his voice is deep and quite loud and so is his smile, and I remember begging him to stop talking because he made the headache worse.

& # 39; My body was constantly in fight or flight mode – it could no longer filter danger. If Alex wiped me when I slept, I would jump because my body just wasn't able to filter what was safe.

& # 39; Light has been very difficult, especially indoors. That is why I am away from the direct light that comes out of the window. Screens are also bad. I realized that immediately and even now I can't do long stretching exercises with a phone, TV or tablet without a big headache. & # 39;

In the midst of the limitations, Danson spent much of the past year in isolation, away from friends and the sport she has been contesting at international level for 18 years. & # 39; Heartbreaking & # 39 ;, she says. & # 39; Any injury that I had sustained earlier than planned. This time, the harder I tried, the worse I got.

& # 39; Eventually I learned to stop making short-term goals. That is not possible with the brain. You have to agree and that means having patience and being away from a team from England that has been my life. There is nothing mild about my slight brain injury. & # 39;

marked this week Britain's three-year anniversary that won hockey gold at the Rio Olympics

Rio's golden girls have been holding reunions in December since that night when they postponed the news at ten o'clock. Danson couldn't go last year – she was in bed.

The prospects are finally changing. This year she knows for sure that she will make it. Other things that were once impossible came into the picture. "After six months I got a cup of coffee, then I could start with television, a little screen time, gradually coming back into contact with the world."

Crucially, after 10 months, the headache began to diminish. & # 39; I still have them every day, but sometimes it can take a few hours between them and I can't tell you how nice that is, & # 39; she says, almost in tears. "There was a moment when I would settle down to live a life where I could just painlessly roam the house."

The goals are now moving. Danson knows that she is far from where she needs to be to play international sport – she has not been sprinting or waving a hockey stick for a year. And yet the mindset is determined.

& # 39; I will play again & # 39 ;, she says. For the UK? & # 39; I think so. & # 39; Tokyo? "That must be the goal."

It is an incredible target. But that is why the resumption of walking 10 months after the accident meant so much. & # 39; It's able to do something vague like what I used to do & # 39 ;, she says. "Compared to a training run with England, it's not even remotely the same – it's more like a truffle shuffle.

" It gives me a severe headache but I am jogging continuously for up to 20 minutes and it feels just so wonderful to do it again. & # 39; Bennett, her hero at reaching this point, has become her fiancé since the accident. & # 39; He did everything for me & # 39 ;, she says. They will marry next month.

& # 39; It would become the whole shepherd & # 39 ;, Danson says. & # 39; But we scaled it back. Something big and I may not have been able to copy. It has been another case that I had to manage my expectations, but we're getting married and I know it's going to be a great day. & # 39;

It remains to be seen whether there are more great days on the hockey field. But for now, the truffle shuffle around a field feels like excellent progress.

Alex Danson is an ambassador for Investec. Investec supports women's hockey from grassroots to national team. For more information, visit investec.co.uk/hockey cialis19459014 [cialis19459003cialiscialis19459009]

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