#i thought i'd read other ever afters in 2023 but in fact it was last december!

[thecrenellations]

okay, trying to go for at least one answer that’s funny because it’s extremely expected and one that’s funny because it’s unexpected???

2 3 6 12 21 25

these are the questions.

I think you succeeded, my anonymous inquisitor! (I laughed/smiled when I read the questions.)

2. Did you reread anything? What? YES, I DID! I was going to provide some numbers for this and got a little lost in the details, but half of the individual books I read this year were ones I've read before, I read some of those books (Lion Hunters) multiple times, and then I went and reread a bunch of the ones that were new to me, especially the Lymond Chronicles! The Game of Kings wins, I think. No, I know. I love rereading, and my favorite stories are the kind that make me love it more!

3. What were your top five books of the year? In alphabetical order, with an only-one-book-per-series restriction and my apologies to a few books I liked nearly as much or the same amount as these ones: The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett, He Who Drowned the World by Shelley Parker-Chan, The Legend of Auntie Po by Shing Yin Khor, A Power Unbound by Freya Marske, and Stateless by Elizabeth Wein.

6. Was there anything you meant to read but never got to? I should have thought to split up my answers, but yes! I remembered a few of the nonfiction ones: The Power of Babel by John McWhorter, Ducks by Kate Beaton, Caring For Your Books by Michael Dirda, Karachi Vice by Samira Shackle, and a biography of John Gielgud

12. Any books that disappointed you? Certain aspects of the Lymond Chronicles, the new-reading highlight of my year, disappointed me in ways that I have also found deeply interesting to talk and think about, and I felt that Wild Maps for Curious Minds: 100 New Ways to See the Natural World did not quite deserve its title. Get wilder and more curious!

21. Did you participate in or watch any booklr, booktube, or book twitter drama? These questions are from 2019, so I suppose they predate booktok becoming a major thing! But I certainly watched Claire run around Schuler books and, dramatically, cause The Thief and Code Name Verity to sell out!

At @red-sea-itinerary, the capital of booklr, our polls have been very dramatic, and an author has weighed in. We should all remember Abreha's palace's water clock. Nearly everyone prefers coffee with Turunesh over kingship and no one thinks Medraut should have the latter. Birds. And Telemakos is taller than Lleu!!!

25. What reading goals do you have for next year? To get around to a few of those books in 6, to read more nonfiction (I think trying more via audiobook would help), to read more diversely in terms of authors (including time periods), and to read another series that's new to me! Maybe to help poke a certain loose book club into meeting again? To have fun and escape and think and learn. Reading was enough of a challenge during and after college that I still feel delighted and grateful that I've been reading regularly and finding new books I love. :)

[wannab-urs]

Gin's 2023 sappy post

It's hard for me to believe that at the beginning of this year, I didn't know a single one of my best friends in the world existed. But it's true!

How we got here

I'm not quite sure exactly when I started looking up Pedro Pascal on Tumblr, but it was sometime after February. I'd watched Game of Thrones and Oberyn was my favorite character, but I was in one of my periods of not being on Tumblr (I've had this account for about 10 years, but it's seen many fandoms and I haven't always been active).

I watched the first few episodes of The Last of Us that had come out - I was 3 episodes behind I think - and immediately looked up Joel Miller on Tumblr. How could I not? Anyway, give me ten minutes on this hellsite and a middle aged man with a huge imdb and watch me develop a hyperfixation.

So then I looked up interviews. I watched basically every interview this man ever did, but I remember that the Lie Detector interview and his appearance on the Talk Easy podcast are really what did me in. I went from admiring this man as an actor and thinking he's pretty to basically being in love with him.

Anyways....

I didn't mean to start reading fanfic? I come from the world of Destiel on AO3. I never wrote it, I just read copious amounts of it. I'd never read reader insert, much less straight reader insert, and I'd never written a word of anything even resembling a fanfiction.

But I found @prolix-yuy, @frannyzooey, @joelscruff, @fuckyeahdindjarin, and @ezrasbirdie (check the spreadsheet, y'all are at the very top!) and I was hooked.

Then I read Psychomanteum by @whatsnewalycat and Celestial Navigation by @write-and-buried and was inspired to parade my trauma around in a Dieter shaped trench coat: AGOY was born.

@beskarandblasters is the first person I really talked to on here. In fact, Kel is the one who introduced me to most of my friends on here. And we've been harassing each other on the daily since. I hope to 🦵 her in real life someday soon ❤️. I love you, bitch. You mean the world to me.

I could never ever ever list all of my dear friends I've made on here. Seriously, there are so many of you that mean the world to me. But I'm gonna list a few.

My cannibal crew @pr0ximamidnight and @atinylittlepain, without whom Love as Violence Dave (starving season), Head up his Ass Javi (in the a.m.), and the later editions of loser druggie Dieter (AGOY) would not exist - or at least they wouldn't be as good as they are.

My darling soup snake, the loml, my spider twin, my forever partner in making bitches cry (it's us, we're bitches, making each other cry in an endless loop) @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin. #1 AGOY stan forever, you may love my own magnum opus more than I love it. Thanks for listening to me scream about every pedro boy on the planet and thanks for screaming right back at me. I love you.

The random college student I found by accident, decided to take under my wing, and then was subsequently taken under their wing bc it turns out they have more fandom experience and life advice than I can ever hope to have @idolatrybarbie. Bea, my darling, thanks for always letting me bitch, for showing me fics I never thought I'd be into (The Santa Claus AU Frankie Morales Free Use Kink, anyone) but that I often was into, for encouraging my writing, and for being fucking real with me.

The pedrostories crew, but especially @pedrorascal - I love screaming about Pedro with you at... 2:30 in the morning my time (we love time zones!). Thanks for letting me be a terrible mod for your fic archive blog and never getting mad at me for not doing my job. And for being a wonderful, kind, amazing person all the fucking time.

I'm being so serious when I say I could list at least 20 more people. People who brightened my day with a reblog or a message. Or who wrote a fic I still think about at least once a week. Or who made a gifset that is permanently etched into my brain. People I talked to in discords and most likely trauma dumped on and they listened and they cared and they let me hold their trauma in return. I love you guys so fucking much.

Conclusion

I never could have imagined I'd be a writer and run a fic rec blog at 24. Especially not for Pedro Pascal Characters. But here we are -- and I can honestly say it has been the highlight of my year. And I bought a house this year.

I have so many new friends and a new hobby (I never wrote at all before this) just because I wanted to Fuck That Old Man. Incredible.

[brigitteblackwood]

hiii thanks for rbing my horror recs post! here's your recs! :)

based on ginger snaps i'd recommend let the right one in (2008), the lure (2015), the witch (2015), the living dead girl (1982), stoker (2013), bones and all (2022) and carrie (1976) about (blood thirsty) outcast girls who want to be loved :(. 

based on hausu i'd recommend suspiria (1977), beetlejuice (1988), eraserhead (1977), the love witch (2016), the cell (2000) and the rocky horror picture show (1975) because they have unique aesthetics that they really commit to, and tetsuo: the iron man (1989), brain damage (1988), possessor (2020), killer klowns from outer space (1988), the machine girl (2008) and videodrome (1983) because they're some of the more unhinged batshit insane movies i've seen.

based on we're all going to the world's fair i'd recommend i saw the tv glow (2024), pulse (2001), skinamarink (2022), may (2002), censor (2021), swallow (2019) and eraserhead (1977) which are all strange but beautiful movies with themes of loneliness. 

based on scream i'd recommend urban legend (1998), behind the mask: the rise of leslie vernon (2006), house of wax (2005), you're next (2011), haunt (2019), the final girls (2015), totally killer (2023) and the cabin in the woods (2011) because they're all about (masked) killers starring cool female characters.

based on the blair witch project i'd recommend the ritual (2017), horror in high desert (2021), the strangers (2008), the tunnel (2011) and them (2006) which are all quite simple but effective horrors about something lurking in the shadows.

hope there's some you haven't seen yet! :)

Thanks for the recommendations! Some of these I've seen already, but there are plenty I still haven't watched. In fact, a few have been on my watchlist for a while, so I'll take this as a sign to get to them soon (or, in the case of Let the Right One In, hurry up and read the book since I want to finish it before checking out any of the adaptations).

I thought it might be fun to share my thoughts about the ones I have seen:

The Witch (2015) - I read The Crucible when I was far too young (I stole it off my parents' bookshelf after I got bored with reading Junie B. Jones) and was obsessed with dark fairy tales about witches living in the forest as a child. So this was very much my shit.

Stoker (2013) - After watching this, I spent so many nights just wondering whether India Stoker and Merricat Blackwood would get along or try to kill each other if they ever met. I still don't have an answer.

Carrie (1976) - Love the use of split screen and Sissy Spacek really only moving her eyes during the attack on the gym. Hate the aggressive male-gazeyness of the locker room scene and the under usage of Amy Irving (I thought she was a interesting choice to play Sue, and I'm forever bitter she and Carrie didn't get to have their confrontation at the end like they do in the book).

Suspiria (1977) - The colours! The Goblin soundtrack! Sure, the actual plot barely makes any sense, but I adore it so much!

Beetlejuice (1988) - The last time I watched this was back in high school, so I should probably give it a rewatch soon. I remember loving the Maitlands and the Deetz family but absolutely hating Betelgeuse; I think he's the weakest character and would argue that you could still get a great story without him, but I understand I'm likely in the minority here.

Eraserhead (1977) - God, I always get so mad on the baby's behalf. He cries all the time! Well, he probably wouldn't cry so much if you didn't leave him lying on a hard table 24/7! 🙄

The Love Witch (2016) - I'm conflicted about this one. I thought it was beautifully shot, and I love anything that pays homage to older films. But since Anna Biller has gone full TERF since its release, I've found my viewing experience somewhat soured (which sucks because I was really interested in seeing her upcoming Bluebeard adaptation before I found out).

Videodrome (1983) - Another one I need to revisit. I'm a big Cronenberg fan, but I don't think I really gelled with this one the first time I watched it. James Wood (🤢) being the star probably didn't help.

I Saw the TV Glow (2024) - I got to see it at my local indie cinema as a double feature with The People's Joker last month! I bawled my eyes out, but thankfully, so did everyone else around me.

May (2002) - She's so me (minus the murder and mutilation, of course).

Swallow (2019) - Has one of my favourite ending shots in film history.

The Cabin in the Woods (2011) - The script was far too Whedon-y for me to enjoy, but I cheered so loud when they unleashed all the monsters on the staff.

Rocky Horror (1975) - I have fond memories of my mother sneaking 14-year-old me and my 10-year-old sister into our first live viewing (I think the only reason she succeeded was because my sister hit puberty early and looked a lot older). We'd known about the show for most of our childhood because both our parents worked in theatre and would often play showtunes around the house, so we'd already memorized most of the songs (minus Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me, which our parents would skip for obvious reasons).

I'd love to hear some of you're thoughts on these films. If you're comfortable sharing.

[lestappenforever]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for the tag, @lattesqueeze. 🥹

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 31! I used to have a lot more on my old account, but I deleted them all and the account ages ago.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 182,588 apparently. Jesus fuck, I did not realize it was that high.

3. Which fandoms do you write for? These days? Only F1 RPF, but I used to write for several others, including (but not limited to) Cut & Run, Men's Football RPF, McFly RPF, and Teen Wolf.

4. Which are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) - My first Lestappen fic, my baby, my pride and joy

2. 19 Times The Grid Saved Lestappen (And One Time They Didn't Need To) - My first collab fic with the lovely Ilse (@f1writingbyme) 💕

3. Something Unholy - Lestappen lap dance/dirty talk PWP

4. Speak Now (Or Forever Hold Your Peace) - A personal Lestappen favorite

5. No Time For Regret (No Time For Sleep) - Lestappen PWP set after the 2023 Belgian Grand Prix

5. Do you reply to your comments? Why or why not? Yes, I do! I've made it my mission to reply to every single comment I get on my work, because the fact that there are people out there who not only read my work, but they also take the time to leave a comment, is such a huge deal to me and it makes me so happy. The least I can do is make sure they all get a reply.

6. Which of your fics has the angstiest ending? Ooof, I guess The Last Straw? The ending itself isn't the angstiest part of the fic, but the entire thing is angsty as hell.

7. Which of your fics has the happiest ending? I'd say most of my fics have happy endings, but the happiest? Probably Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes), or the first sequel Like Snow At The Beach (Weird, But Fucking Beautiful).

8. Do you get hate on your fics? Haven't gotten any hate so far on my current AO3 account! I used to get a bit of hate on my fics when I used to write for another fandom (1D, despite not being a 1D fan myself, I only wrote requests from other people) years ago, though, because back then there was apparently a "right or wrong way" to write fics, and there were always people who thought you were doing it wrong.

9. Do you write smut? I do. Admittedly, it's my least favorite thing to write, but I do write it.

10. Do you write crossovers? I've never tried, and I've never had an urge to so far.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Only one! (That I know of.) It was the first 1D fic I wrote and somebody tried to pass it off as their own. Didn't work very well for them.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet, but I was actually contacted by a lovely person who wants to translate some of my F1 fics, which is a huge honor. So it's coming!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? Yes, I have! I co-wrote a fic with an old friend back in my McFly obsession days, and I've co-written two Lestappen fics with my darling @f1writingbyme.

19 Times The Grid Saved Lestappen (And One Time They Didn't Need To), and Ride The Bull (Giddy Up, Partner).

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? All-time? I honestly don't know if I can pick because all of my favorite ships have been my all-time favorite ship at the time I was hyperfixating on them. But, if I have to make a choice, I'd say it's a tie between Lestappen and Junes (Harry Judd/Danny Jones from McFly).

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but probably never will? Oh, man, I don't have one because my brain will not let me start a WIP without finishing it. Once I start writing something, my OCD and anxiety kicks in, and I just have to finish it. And if I can't finish it, I delete the whole thing and never think of it again. Which is both a blessing and a curse.

16. What are your writing strengths? Angst and endings, I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Smut, without a doubt. Despite having written a fuckton of smut in my life, there is nothing that stresses me out more than when I get to the part in a fic where smut belongs. Reading back my own smut makes me cringe.

18. What are your thoughts on writing in other languages in fics? If it's done properly, I say go for it! I personally don't mind it at all and find it adds depth to a lot of work. Just make sure you use something other than Google Translate if you don't speak the language, and preferably check with someone who speaks the language, to make it as believeable to a native reader as possible.

19. What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? McFly. God, those were the days. I was a literal child back then.

20. What’s your favourite fic that you’ve written? Definitely Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes). Writing that fic altered my brain chemistry, and I can still remember how I felt writing the different chapters. And also 19 Times The Grid Saved Lestappen (And One Time They Didn't Need To), because that was just so fun from start to finish.

Tagging @f1writingbyme, @nico-di-genova, and @f1posting (and anyone else who wants to do this and hasn't already been tagged!).

[thequiver]

How do you feel in relation to Sin? I think I've seen your posts about Dinah not wanting to be a mother and I'd like to hear your thoughts on her and Dinah's relationship, her background is a little messed up I'll admit but I actually like her character. Could you also give me a better explanation on the Dinah not wanting to be a mother topic please? Is that bcs of her mother or bcs of Ollie?

okay so this is a bit of an involved ask so I'm gonna try to separate it into parts.

A. My views on Sin B. Dinah and motherhood

A

Being completely honest here I never really got into Sin. It's a combination of how awful her background is and that she's from what is honestly one of the worst comics I've ever read, I just never got attached to her. Her introduction felt like such a backwards step in Dinah's character to me and like this sort of continued push for Dinah to be a mother which is not just a role she doesn't want but one she isn't suited for. I don't have anything against Sin, I do however want to get free reign to deck Gail Simone. Perhaps if she'd been created by anyone other than Gail Simone I might have gotten attached as she's the kind of character I can see myself liking and she's a character that I want to like, but I do have standards when it comes to writing and narratives and everything about Sin's story did not meet those standards.

B

Yeah so some context surrounding Dinah's statements around the idea of having children is needed because as I've found from my inbox the last few days, there are an astonishing number of people who have no idea what Dinah was like before BoP and I need to fix that ASAP (I can fix y'all /srs). So despite Grell's Dinah coming after DC got rid of her Earth-2 origins (meta for why that's the best Dinah backstory in the works as of 11. Jan. 2023) the characterization he uses is still that of the Dinah who was an immigrant from Earth-2. This means that this Dinah's characterization was that of a widow who started seeing Ollie shortly after she left Earth-2 following the death of her husband, and this is actually a pretty important element of her story to keep in mind when talking about her statements around children.

NOW- this being said, when we look at what Dinah says about having kids, she doesn't actually make it about Ollie, in fact she even says that she'd love to have kids with him (also just a little odd to assume that a woman not wanting to have kids is just bc of her partner but uh go off ig?). What she says is that she won't raise orphans. And it's there that her being a widow comes into play, because her husband had died during a battle as part of the JSA and she's well aware of the danger being a hero places her loved ones in. Add onto this that this conversation is happening after Longbow Hunters and her own capture and torture and the picture becomes clearer.

Dinah's issue with having children is not about Ollie or even on any level that she might be aware of at this point about her mother. It's about her own understanding of the danger she and Ollie are in on a daily basis as a result of their choice to pursue heroics, and fundamentally what it boils down to is her prioritization of pursuing heroics over the idea of having children. It's the kind of thought process we see Ollie have in Green Arrow (1988) too, where he says that he'd be willing to give up Green Arrow to be a father- but Dinah doesn't even entertain the thought of giving up Black Canary to be a mother. To her it's very clear, she is Black Canary so she won't be a mother.

At its core, Dinah's desire not to be a mother is about HER, not anyone else.

[mx-piggy]

I’ve read some mixed opinions on the new Futurama episode (something that feels weird to say after all this time), and I definitely have slightly mixed thoughts on it, but overall it's positive.

I'd love to discuss the episode with people so feel free to comment or DM me!

It feels a lot like the Comedy Central seasons, which aren’t my favourites by any means but I like them well-enough. The episode felt like I was watching an episode of Futurama, which is a low bar, but still. I'm not a modern-Simpsons hater by any means, but the show feels so different to what it used to be even in the early 2000s, and I think it's an achievement that this Futurama revival manages to feel like at least like it did in the Comedy Central years. But, I do feel like the comedy was a lot stronger in this one than in the CC years.

I found it funny that Fry’s goal was to watch every TV show ever made, because it’s very Fry, and I think it was a decent set up to the plot of the episode.

The plot itself felt a bit weak compared to some of the Comedy Central episodes, which I think found strength in their plots and sci-fi concepts despite their flaws. I feel like the episode was trying to establish the world as being more relevant to 2023, which is surprisingly different to when Futurama was on the air, so I think it makes sense to adapt the show to current year. That said, I personally find it a little irritating when media that is made a year before it is aired tries to make episodes that focus entirely on a vaguely contemporary topic, because more often than not they have nothing new to say, and it often feels irrelevant and out of touch despite the intention of relevancy. That's more personal to me, though, and it doesn't bother me too much, and I can mostly look past it.

I think that the concept of Fry bingeing All My Circuits in that suit thing (I’m too lazy to look up what it was called lol) was a little weak, when Futurama has so many much more interesting sci-fi concepts, such as in the episode’s predecessor Meanwhile. For me, it just felt a little uninteresting as a central part of the episode, but I am glad that we got some other stuff in the episode that was far more entertaining (I'll get to that).

They didn’t explore binge culture in a particularly interesting or thoughtful way, in my opinion anyway. They just sort of vaguely said 'shows on streaming services are bad' and ‘bingeing makes you lose touch with reality’, the latter of which they kind of undermined at the end of the episode. I'll get onto the ending in a second.

I feel like there's so much more you can say about bingeing/streaming culture, such as how it makes the viewing experience feel less communal and the hype dies down after a week because the episodes are released in one go compared to on a weekly basis. With Netflix shows, the hype is gone within a couple of weeks of the show's release. But, with shows like the Last of Us, which was released on a weekly basis, there's a longevity to the hype. There was something really exciting about waiting for the next episode of TLOU and being able to focus on the show one episode at a time. I'm not saying that's what the plot should have been about, but I personally think that it's a far more interesting and more 'relevant' critique than anything Futurama had to say about shows on streaming services. Like, everyone knows a lot of streaming service originals are dogshit. I love Futurama, but it was very late to the party on this one.

Okay, onto the ending. I feel like the ending was anticlimactic in a way that wasn’t all that comical, and it undermined the Bender/Leela All My Circuits storyline of the episode. The fact that Fry could just get out of the suit and be fine makes the rest of the plot redundant. I guess Fry spending months of his life bingeing a shitty TV show after expressing his dismay at having wasted years of his life doing nothing sort of fits the 'it makes you lose touch with reality' critique (and is very in-character for Fry), but at the same time it wasn't really explored in a meaningful way. We don't get to view Fry's gradual decline, as a better Futurama episode may have shown. The episode just says that shows on streaming services are lazily and hurriedly cobbled together and shit.

I liked Bender and Leela having to make more All My Circuits, mostly because I love the Bender/Leela dynamic, and All My Circuits is often a highlight of the show anyway. I think this aspect of the episode felt a bit like I'd seen it before because it was another 'Bender works on All My Circuits and makes it not very good' episode, and one that wasn't quite as good as Bender Should Not Be Allowed on TV, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, and this was definitely the strongest part of the episode for me.

I think it’s neat that they resurrected Calculon (loved seeing the Robot Devil again, too). I thought some of the All My Circuits stuff was funny, such as the bi Calculon moment, and Bender saying to leave in the director's heart attack because it was funny. Maybe the most (unintentionally) relevant part of the episode was seeing a team of overworked writers whose job is overtaken by Bender, a robot.

I think they did a decent job at continuing on from Meanwhile, considering that they managed to make it feel a follow-up to Meanwhile whilst also making a basically unrelated episode. I definitely wish they had made more of a reference to Meanwhile past, like, the five minute mark. That said, the trailer showed some Fry and Leela stuff, so I'm guessing that they'll likely explore Fry and Leela's relationship, which changed during Meanwhile. I'm also hoping to see more focus on characters like Amy and Zoidberg in the upcoming episodes, but I get why they functioned more as side-characters in this episode. I'm happy with the episode's sense of continuity with the rest of the series, though. I'm glad they didn't forget things like the fact Calculon was in Robot Hell, so I'm excited to see how else this season connects to previous plotpoints in the series.

I really appreciate that they're not indecisive about Fry and Leela's relationship anymore. I'm so happy that they've unambiguously settled on the fact that Fry and Leela are a couple that love and care about one another, instead of that weird thing they did in the Comedy Central years where their relationship was ambiguous in a way that wasn't deliberate and interesting but purposely unclear so the writers could just define their relationship based on the plot of the episode and what would be more convenient for it. The Fry fake-out deaths never have any emotional impact on me, but it was genuinely sweet to see that Leela was devastated by Fry's 'death'. A lot of the time, I feel like these Fry fake-out deaths were undermined in the CC run because it was often preceded by Leela not liking Fry whatsoever. In general it's much more pleasant to watch them, because I had an issue in the CC run where it seemed like Leela wasn't interested in Fry and Fry was one of those 'won't take no' guys. It was sweet to see Leela being supportive of Fry, and their relationship as a clearly defined/established romantic relationship feels incredibly fresh, even though it was central to the original series. I'm hoping this will be a strength of the revival moving forward, because we have a chance to see Fry and Leela together in a way that we haven't really before.

All in all, I don't think this is the worst or best Futurama episode to have ever been made. Typically, I subscribe to the opinion 'don't beat a dead horse' when it comes to reviving TV shows that had a perfectly satisfactory conclusion. So, while I'd be perfectly happy if Futurama had just stayed dead, I must admit that I was actually really happy to watch a new episode of Futurama after so many years. I understand why people disliked this episode. And, I can also understand why people loved this episode. Despite my issues with the episode, I really did enjoy it. Maybe I'm doing just what these executives want by watching the revival and enjoying it just because I get to see my special little guys again in brand new adventures, which will hopefully improve after this episode. It wasn't the best thing I've ever seen, but it brought a smile to my face.

The non-binary robot joke was genuinely incredible 10/10 episode just for that.

[cobweblog]

Kyiv - May 28, 2023

It was loud in Kyiv last night. Not much sleep. There have been days and nights that have been quiet. But last night was not one of them.

I had trouble falling asleep last night because it was windy. The door on the balcony next door kept swaying back and forth, causing an incessant creaking noise. Erratically it would knock against the wall or the door frame. Boom. But not so loud. Just loud enough to wake me up. Not to mention the creaking noise from the neighbor's old wooden door.

After turning off the television and trying to go to sleep, the banging continued. I thought it was an explosion at one point or the other. There have been many explosions since the beginning of the month.

Until about one or two in the morning the sound of the wind was the dominant sound that kept me awake. As did the banging door that was swaying back and forth. It was what kept me from falling asleep entirely. So I turned the television back on and continued to watch Seinfeld episodes with the volume up.

I thought of reading. Though I really just wanted to sleep. So I lay there a bit longer. I was trying to sleep. But I was also trying to distinguish between the various sounds that I was hearing.

When a car would go by it would go by fast. There was that to consider when a sound was in the distance.

However, since it was late, the street car wouldn't be working. So I could rule out the sound of the streetcar. It could be a street cleaner though. It wasn't uncommon or out of the realm of possibility. It could be young hooligans out again disturbing the peace with their drunken antics. That had been the case the other night. But now it was after midnight. And a city-wide curfew since the start of the invasion also ruled out hooliganism from the list.

However, there were lots of other sounds to consider. But mostly all other sounds related to the gales that were causing havoc on the streets and courtyards below. At one point I closed the window. My bedroom had cooled off. Thankfully. Things became quieter at that point. I could still slightly hear the banging and creaking outside. But it was muted.

Then I heard it. The sound of an explosion. Or was it? May've been another bang of the door. Hard to tell with windows shut. It was possible that it was an explosion. The air rad siren had gone off about an hour ago.

Of late, it seemed that the norm in my neighborhood was to set off a round or two of the siren for the night as a notice to beware imminent attacks.

Now, an hour later, I realized that I had been warned. But I had not heeded the warning. I didn't go to the metro as advised. I wasn't below ground. I was on the top floor of a six story building in historic Podil of Kyiv. And now the capital was under attack again. Or was it?

Air defense has been working great of late. So, there wasn't much worry on my part. But there was fear. Raw, instinctual fear. Perhaps less this time.

But the fear returned. It was palpable. At least for a moment and then I steadied my breathing and the anxiety and fear subsided. It was the same fear I felt during a thunderstorm a couple a months ago in Kentucky when I was awoken to the sound of thunder. I thought it was an explosion. But it was only thunder. It was in Kentucky.

And now, my logical brain can take it all into account. But my amygdala was working harder than ever. Fight or flight.

Awoken out of sleep a couple week prior, I had chosen flight. I jumped out of bed and headed to the corridor. The explosion somewhere above had rattled the windows. I had a hard night sleeping that night. It was the first explosion of that magnitude that I'd ever heard. It sounded and felt like a burst of violent thunder. It was not thunder.

In Kyiv, my amygdala had called correctly. There was a threat. The fear was well-founded. The response of jumping out of bed was justified. Unlike the time in Kentucky, it wasn't thunder. It was an explosion. And it was now possible that I was in fact in danger. The instinct to jump up out of bed was correct. The fear was on point.

Last night, as I lay in bed, the fear returned. Not as strong, but just as unsettling. The logical brain was working harder than the amygdala. The Patriot air defense system was working harder than both. Kyiv air defense had a record of shooting down about ninety percent of incoming drones and missiles. As the fear subsided, I could now better assess the risk of danger. I decided to put on some relaxing music and try to get some sleep. It was past two in the morning now.

Then more explosions could be heard. Closer and closer it seemed. Or was I imagining that? Was that bang of the door again? The sounds were intermittent, occurring over a half hour period or so. I had probably heard five or six by that point.

Then came the loudest explosion yet. Definitely not the neighbor's door. Or the wind. Something exploded above. Off in the distance. Something had been shot down. Probably a drone.

I got up at one point and decided to read in the hallway. I had been told it is safer there. Better to play it safe. At this point I couldn't hear the explosions. I had my headphones on. But I assumed they were ongoing. Somewhere.

In the end, I had heard enough. I needed to keep my anxiety in check. I needed quiet music and a book to take my mind off things.

The book I was reading was about a Russian dictator, hellbent on clinging to power in Moscow. The plot included a life-like scenario, albeit blown out of proportion to keep the reader entertained and reading. It wasn't my favorite book, but it was a page-turner indeed.

However, while being bombed by Russians in Kyiv, I couldn't help but notice how wrong the author had botched the plot. In the work of fiction that I was reading in the hallway of the top-floor apartment, whilst Ukraine was simultaneously being targeted with Iranian drones, which were subsequently being shot down by American and European made air defense, I came face to face with the difference between fact and fiction, as it relates to the realm of international war storytelling.

You see, in the book the author had devised a scenario in which the fictional leader of modern day Russia was in the process of choosing his next war move.

As I was reading, I wondered, what would be his decision? Would he continue to propagandize and further invade Ukraine? Or would he instead go with a surprise attack and invade the Baltics?

The author ultimately decided that the dictator would attack Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania so as to weaken an unprepared NATO.

Well, I can say for certain that the more life-like scenario of that fictional spy novel would instead be a multi-year genocidal war against Ukraine. The Baltics would be spared in the real world.

For now, Kyiv was under attack. And I was in my underwear. Sitting on a poorly padded metal chair in the corridor of my apartment. In Kyiv. Listening to a relaxing bath-time playlist on Spotify. Reading a novel about a Russian dictator who chose not to attack Kyiv. He chose instead to attack NATO directly. Isn't it ironic? Don't ya think?

I would visit the hallway a couple more times that night. I would return to my bed, book in hand, listening to music and doing my best to logically deduce that all will be well.

Anxiety in check, I lay back down. I read. I slept. Then I awoke again before sunup. It was around five in the morning. It was still dark. But the morning sun was working its way around the earth. And the Patriot system was hard at work. Rescue workers were hard at work. And I was asleep. But not for long.

Another explosion. Perhaps the loudest of the night. Then no more. It was going to be morning soon. So I worked my way back to sleep. I slept until noon or so. Now I've finished reading the latest updates about the attack on Kyiv. It seems that forty of forty two drones were shot down. Thankfully.

Now it's a beautiful, quiet day in May. Things are looking up.

[chuurotonin]

pulling up one from the archives for the first time and just because the tag #diary is somehow useful because it's one of the tags in my pinned post above this :D this gets lengthy and at some cases, personal so i will be editing some of details on this entry so here it is the first ever #diary post on chuurotonin <3 enjoy reading! i love u!!!

June 23, 2023

i dreamed about [], a boy i went to school with on [] and i want to make out with him. he is cute and what,'s weird about liking him is when we we're once schoolmates, one day, he called me "bakla" which became a derogatory term for me knowing i really liked him back then, it traumatized me because of how i didn't like the sound of the word growing up, it felt violent and unwelcoming. it's way too odd because for months, waiting for graduation to come and sweep us all away into first year high school, that tragic happening made me ignore him for the rest of waiting for the school year to end, a slow hammer pound to the nails punctured in my heart, i acted like he didn't exist. it was awkward as fuck because we had drum and lyre practice together and our line formations are always close to each other. (side note: I hated [] practices and i hated playing []. if there were anything i would take back from the past, it would be 1) That i couldn't eat too much because I was too []. and 2) That i shouldn't have agreed to playing the fuck ass [] in that tired []. I was even surprised we'd win that title on my last school year at that school.

it hurt trying to pretend someone close to your heart doesn't exist not because you want to do that, it's because you are a young boy like him, in the closet, not ready to face the world of queerness, trying to cover up the fact that you like him, by a measure of "too much." i didn't let it consume me, i can't have that, and even if i would, i couldn't admit to him that i liked him :( it's a depressing thought but the past is gone and here is now, who knows i might end up bumping into him someday, fun fact: i've seen him on [] a couple of times when i was a senior year student studying [] and it was mindblowingly surreal seeing him after all the years that has passed. for me, [] is like an otter that needs to be held 24/7, I've never given this much thought or I've never rlly put it into words but I do like him, a lot, and if i was chicken shit to tell the world how i felt back then, i'd have nothing to lose if i was to tell him anyway. He's adorable and i wish we we're still friends. I just wished he didn't call me that word because to be frank, I'd be offended if he'd do it again. but I'll say it to him, i'll ask him first if he remembers me ignoring him and tell him why i did it in the first place. I wonder if he remembers all of that. I remember when he used to wear these blue or brown (?) velcro sandals, i'd stare at them at drum and lyre practice. I hated his sandals, I've always thought flip flops were better than sandals. Infinitely better if it was worn by a boy I liked.

[] never left my mind, but he was in the corner or a speck of thought somewhere here. what shocked me the most dreaming about him is i just "thought" of a different [], the [], cousin of []'s and []'s [], who i think is cute too but my mind just says, shouts and prefers this [] ([].) minutes after of this dream (which i couldn't remember, and i hate the fact that i couldn't...now i'm regretting i didn't write the details of it the moment i woke up.) i thought of looking him up on facebook. apparently, he bakes cookies and cakes and all that pastry and dessert shit. his Matcha cookies looks good, so, i really don't know if i'll add him and i *might* have to order some from him. the last post from his [] business is from 2021 though so i don't see a reason for me to order. but i can see a reason for me to shoot him a friend request, hit him up and confess my feelings to him after months of hanging out or whatever. i guess we'll have to find out the next time I will pull up the Notes app and start typing again like a mad bitch whose supposed to be sleeping now because I'm tired from nothing but I'm doing good mentally far from when I was employed at fucking [] house of fake ass fucking FUCK YOU [] A.K.A []rat-looking-motherfucker [] who verbally and psychologically abused me repeatedly.

anyways, this felt like an essay-diary hybrid. so good luck, good life, good love.

~

i feel likethe next diary post won't be like this by the way ! if you made it this far, thank you and ilu!!

[shhhhhiminsidesaitamascloset]

tw: SA

Im not sure how long i had this blog in general. Maybe in late May??? Probably June.

But im just reflecting on things. Losing my old tumblr blog and emails before being hospitalized and sent to a facility. Then coming back making new emails and having to start over.

You'd think something like this would devastate me. But months earlier my house caught on fire and i lost all my sketches and artwork. I lost memorable items, manga collections i had since high school.

It was all gone. So some d*** hacking my phone and making me lose access to my emails and logins was the least of my problems. But when i went through living with someone who wanted to do s*xual things to me, being coerced while i was in psychosis and being assaulted.

I felt lost. Luckily when i was hospitalized i found God again. So i was working on getting back on the straight and narrow after i thought i was being spiritually attacked and realizing someone put a curse on me. (I think i know what happened but its another story for another day) And the psychosis took time to wear off.

In the meantime i managed to make a tumblr account again and start over. And i think its probably been about 2 or 3 months (getting out of that psychosis fog finally thank God!) And im not as patient and docile as i was before during the bits i was in psychosis. But im trying my best to stay close to God and Jesus and lead/live by example.

I feel like there's a lot i can thank God for and even if its just my psychosis i truly believe i am God's servant and soldier. I've been through so much and i had been so tough through it. It was scary, but braving it through and being patient taught me how to go about my life. It also taught me the importance of faith and my priorities.

I also realize that i can be really sh**ty to people i dont know online. But we can only blame negative and toxic internet culture for that. So i started vowing that i'll try to treat people the way i wanted to be treated online. Even if we are 'enemies' i'll still be nice and kind and give you advice on being a better person.

I wanna be the light for people online. Even if im posting dumb f/o and fandom related stuff. I wanna be that person where people see my icon and say "Theyre not perfect but they really try their best to be positive"

Like i said before i dont expect everyone to like me. I shouldnt care what others think of me either. But if someone says im toxic and i dont try, i'll tell them they are a liar. Because even before i got on here again i have been trying my best since the accident. I've slipped, fell, made lots of mistakes and had a hard time staying holy and righteous on my spiritual journey.

But anybody who judges me dont know what i went through. Dont know why i am the way i am. Dont know that im constantly improving me. With God and Jesus in my life, i may not know it all but i understand things a lot more than i did before. And im appreciative of Yahweh than i have ever been.

I know all of this is temporary anyway. Though i am appreciative of what i have now. Im not too keen on who we stay with for the moment, but im thankful i got a place to stay until we move. There's a lot to be grateful for now. And even though she drives me nuts, im grateful to have my mom.

These past few months in 2023 have been crazy. And i dont know how long i'll have this blog and side blogs. But im grateful it made it this far. And who knew i'd like Saitama from One Punch Man 🤷‍♀️ ?

But the fact i jumped from Enrico Pucci, to Joseph Joestar, to Saitama so quick worries it wont last. But i might have to force this hyperfixation somehow.

Anyway, I hope i didnt bore you too much. And i know most people on tumblr dont take time to read things. But i'd say: Count your blessings, be grateful for even the smallest things, appreciate your friends online and irl, and dont take things for granted

ty y'all have a good day, God bless, and drink plenty of water✩

[naomi-in-japan]

5月29日- Shibuya/Harajuku | Meiji Shrine

Today was our second full day in the program and my third full day in Japan. By this time, I've adjusted to Japan's timezone difference compared to the US. Similarly, I have begun to get the hang of the train system and the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. Our class has also started to swing into the flow of things with quizzes, readings, and blog posts galore. 

•••

Shibuya 🚸🚥

The first stop of today was to the famous Shibuya. Not only was I able to take a picture with the famous Hachiko Statue, but we could also cross the famous Shibuya Crossing! The thought then dawned on me as we spent some time in Shibuya—the walkability of Tokyo. It truly is a walker's paradise and not for the faint-hearted. Even as I glance at my smartwatch while typing this blog post, I realize that at least during our time in Tokyo, walking at least 5 miles a day will be the norm. I also bought a couple of things from 109 Shibuya, a notable department store containing a plethora of chic and fashionable shops. It took everything in me not to shop til I dropped (especially since I would have had to carry all of it a couple of miles in the rain). Those who know me would know how much of a challenge that was. Overall I definitely would like to return to Shibuya again sometime to explore it in its full glory. 

Harajuku 🏬🛍️

After spending some time in Shibuya, we walked over to Harajuku and explored Takeshita Street. Harajuku was another spot I visited before 2019, and it was exactly how I remembered it, only WAY busier. Though I didn't buy anything in Harajuku, it is essential to note its significant influence on fashion and innovation in Japan and internationally. One thing that caught me off guard on Takeshita Street, though (slightly off-topic), was that Mcdonald's in Japan (or at least in Tokyo) offers matcha frappes. I am one to be very critical of the quality of McDonald's’ products as well as matcha in general, so I won't share my thoughts on what I think of that (especially since I haven't tried it), but it certainly was the most surprising thing I'd seen today. 

Meiji Shrine ⛩️🌳

The last stop of the day was the Meiji Shrine. This was another place I had visited prior, but there was something special about returning here (I almost felt nostalgic). The nature within the confines of the shrine is absolutely serene and beautiful. The fact that the Meiji Shrine is so lush in fauna and nature in the middle of the bustling urban megacity of Tokyo is absolutely remarkable. It truly goes to show the significance and value that Emperor Meiji has on Japan.

•••

Today really was a day that allowed me to not only admire the modernity of Tokyo but also to analyze the growth and development of Tokyo from 2019 all the way four years later to what it is today in 2023. The longer I am in Tokyo, the more I realize there is much to explore and learn about the city. Though I am not native or spent a long time residing here, I feel a sense of home in Tokyo. Even after only three days, I feel confident that my return to this city is an assured guarantee.

————————-

📚 Academic Reflection 📚

The first reading we had was Christine Yano's "Wink on Pink," which discussed the cultural, global, and financial impact of Hello Kitty. Hello Kitty's kawaii, particularly cute branding, greatly influences Harajuku fashion and culture. In our visit to Harajuku today, the dominant nature of Hello Kitty, other Sanrio characters, and the concept of kawaii were very apparent at each and every turn, particularly on Takeshita Street. The kawaii-esque style was everywhere–from clothing items, bags, souvenirs, and themed cafes–-even from an article written all the way back around 2008. Hello Kitty's influence is more powerful than ever.

The other reading we had was "A Brief History of Japanese Civilization," which went into the breakdown of the issues, reforms, and ultimately transition from the Tokugawa period into the Meiji period. Just by visiting the Meiji Shrine in its pristine glory, you can see the extent of how revered and impactful Emperor Meiji was as not only a leader but a symbol of transition into modernity and prosperity for Japan. As I mentioned earlier in my writing, the preservation and size of the shrine in the middle of a massive city like Tokyo really showcase that reality. 

[thedysphoriadiaries]

Entry 43 - 7 March 2023, 1:28am

I feel... different.

It's the second day of that patch being on, and, for some reason, I feel... like there's some energy within me again; I feel... alive? (yet, I want to bury my head into my bed and scream and cry)

It could be the placebo (knowing that I put that patch on myself), or it could be me feeling what I think I should be feeling.

Or maybe it could be me finally feeling better after being pissed at myself for wanting to be a girl whom I saw on the bus.

Yeah, maybe that juxtaposition does explain what I feel.

...

I really wonder what the people in the server have to say about my decision to take the Free Trial™.

I know that at least one of them would say that the person who gave it to me was too much of an influence.

I know that others would say that I chose to take that, and would defend that decision.

As for where I stand?

I personally don't know why I took the patches, for any other reason other than the fact that I knew two things:

Hormones (and your reactions to them) are mostly guided by what you want; cross-sex hormones tend to elicit dysphoric feelings in those who don't want said changes, ie., those who are cisgender.

It was a last resort - a more direct approach as a direct counter to the maze of cognition that I have spun for myself (which, I might add, I chose to tackle without professional help).

Isn't it amazing to feel your desires and motivations swirl into incomprehensibility?

I wonder if the hugbox is where I should stay.

The kindness that it exudes is somewhat... uncanny, for some reason. I get it - the kindness and acceptance in there is, well, there, since the world is actively trying to criminalize people like us. But then again, I'm... not suffering.

I read the entries of a certain someone (a certain someone who's been talking to me quite a bit, I suppose), and I think about how much better (?) I have it. I merely have the desire to be a girl.

I am not having panic attacks the same way other people do. The sidelines aren't empty; I see the faint silhouettes of many other people, looking outwards, into a life they desire, but will never have due to the way they were born.

Making this all about me is the single most selfish thing I've ever done. Yet, I'm sitting here, typing, with a patch on my abdomen. My parents don't know. Nobody but you, the reader, my brother, and I know about it.

The reality of life, that being that society isn't welcoming to people like us, makes me think about the little saying,

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

I only have that (undistilled, uncrystallized) desire to be a girl. I have lived with it for thirteen years. I can survive, unlike some of the others, some of whom would have taken their own lives if not for transitioning.

I wonder why I flirt with such a dangerous decision before having any clarity of my own, or before I explore other options.

...

I still remember the time when I said I was not proud of my own masculinity. It's where the statement of my rejection of my own masculinity came from. Yet, as people around me tell me that men can reject masculinity, I start to lose the ground which I stood on. I don't know how to explain how I felt that rejection and shame of my own masculinity on such a level that felt so fundamental to my being.

I still don't know how to explain it. But maybe I'm just thinking in binaries again, the same thing I told my ex-partner not to do.

I remember when I first touched my ex-partner's chest. It was my hand, under her shirt. Of course, me, being me, at the time, I'd enjoyed it. Sexually. It only took a year, or two years of that, for a little inkling of a voice within me to wish for her features. Again, like the thought of not wanting to be a guy anymore, the feeling of missing something on my chest crept up on me, too soft for me to hear it over the noise of my life then, but I hear it now. I still feel it sometimes, when I sling the sling of my bag (wow I really love using the word sling) over my shoulders. I occasionally have the feeling like I should have something more, where my chest is. Either that, or I'm aware of how bare my chest is (and I get the compulsion to cover up).

Looking back now... it makes sense as to why I always wanted to be in close physical contact with her. She has the features I don't have, but want. Maybe the motivations for that desire are sexual. Maybe they're not. I don't know now. Will I ever know?

What do I say? That you're my boyfriend?

That sentence strikes me the wrong way, especially within the later parts of the relationship that I had. The initial thought was that I was not worthy enough of a partner to be my partner's boyfriend.

Now that I come to think about it, though, there was a certain element of not being able to connect with the boy in boyfriend. Either that, or I saw my partner as my equal. Not a treasure.

I didn't understand why the boyfriends in the couples I saw around me acted the way they did. I never could see myself in them.

But, maybe... just... maybe, there was no love in that relationship.

I found my role as the boyfriend utterly... repulsive. I hated it when she referred to me as her boyfriend. I just wanted to be there for my partner. What was wrong with it? Why couldn't I do it on my own terms? (Maybe I'm aromantic, but who knows?)

Come to think about it, the way I approached our relationship dynamics was pretty similar to an approach a same-sex (or same-gender) couple would take - there were no gender roles for either to fulfill, just roles to be taken up, as per an agreement, or to either partner's strengths.

I suppose that's why I drove my partner away. I couldn't fulfill what she asked of me. Either that, or the jealousy I harbored towards her slice of life, and how she lived, drove the wedge between us, even before I told her I wanted to not be a guy. Either that, or it's other things, like sociopathic tendencies, or depression.

Yet, I don't know how much of this is tainted by my anger. Or by the emotions that I have been feeling these couple of months. Take all this with a mountain of salt. Better yet, with an entire galaxy cluster's worth of salt.

Day three on estrogen will come upon me, after I sleep.

May it grant the clarity I seek.

...

cool song time, for I've been a fool

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes:  thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go! (warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K) nine: records

Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.

It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.

You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.

When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"

“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”

A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.

His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”

Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”

“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.

“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.

“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”

One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”

You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”

“It’s all we��d listen to at the front.”

Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.

You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”

Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.

“Marvin Gaye.”

You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”

“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”

“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.

“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”

You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.

Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.

You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.

“I know Sinatra.”

“Do you now?”

You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.

“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“Show off.”

“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”

Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.

“M’not going anywhere, you know.”

“You still lived an entire lifetime—”

“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.

You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.

“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.

“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.

The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;

You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.

I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.

Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.

As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.

“Is this Berlin?”

You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”

“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.

“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.

The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”

Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”

“Yes we can.”

“No, no we can’t.”

“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.

“And the hangover?”

“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”

He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.

Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.

Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.

You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.

“You—you wrote to us?”

“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”

After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.

“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”

From me.

As if that was possible.

“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”

Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”

“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”

“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”

Alright. That was fair.

Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.

“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”

His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”

Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.

You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.

The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.

The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.

I would sacrifice anything, come what might

For the sake of having you near

He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.

“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.

I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.

“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.

There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.

Right?

Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.

Right.

Don't you know little fool, you never can win

The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.

No lyrics.

There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.

Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.

At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.

The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.

He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.

“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.

The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.

“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”

Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.

He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.

His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.

He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Do you care?”

“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.

Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.

“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”

The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.

You liked flying.

“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”

Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.

It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.

After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.

So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.

Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.

“Let me see! Bucky!”

“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

“You gotta be more patient. Here.”

He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.

The other had Bucky’s.

James B Barnes. 32557038.

He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.

You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.

“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”

You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.

“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.

You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”

“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.

You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”

Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.

In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.

And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.

You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”

“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.

“Tell me about it. I can go—”

“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”

As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.

They jingled lightly against your heart.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.

[wizandkonfd]

I don't know about you but I feel '22

It is now less than 60 hours before the year 22 ends and the new year arrives. I have a lot of emotions about 2022; a reasonable mix of the good and bad days, together with a considerably huge number of days of emotional distresses. This year I learned to embrace all of the feelings inside me, all the bad things my brain whispered in the darkest of days, and all the good things my mind savored in its healthiest beings. Apart from that, I've gone through big changes in life, like resigning and starting anew in my career, moving back to KL though I've repeatedly mentioned I'd never live in this soullessly hectic yet lonely city, and renting a whole lot of studio to myself that cause some pain to my saving account. I am still not sure if I've made good choices this year but I am a strong believer of I've always been put in places where I needed to be so maybe, after all, I'm all good.

Oh, I must also mention that this year, especially in the last 2 months, I was so desperate to find myself a partner. I don't know what triggered me to do so. Probably the loneliness that I've felt living alone, or perhaps by comparing my singledom to what I perceived as a completeness of being married couples from a few of my friends. But anyway, I snapped back out of it and realize that maybe I'm still not up for it. I've tried a few online dating apps but I feel that is not really me. I feel like I was a fake character online, and it would cause me misery if I were to continue seeing people based on that character I disguised as online, so I stopped being on dating apps entirely, and I promised I won't ever anymore. (Plus, I don't enjoy texting people either, I swear I'm the driest texter ever).

Anyway, since June I've been reading again, and I have to admit I never thought I could enjoy reading this much. I have found the right genre of books that I like which, surprisingly, is non-fiction books! My younger self would have laughed at this fact! I find myself calmer reading non-fic but I do still enjoy fiction too. The only thing I dislike about reading fiction is I would get so attached to the characters and I would dwell on the plot though I've finished reading a few days already. Sometimes I would think too much about what would I do if I were a character in those stories, and how one scene could impact my life if it happened to me in real life; thinking about these stresses the hell out of me, so that's why I enjoy non-fic more. And with this, I have to admit, this year, I'm a complicated person still. Now I just remembered someone remarked that they couldn't really figure who I was because I would not tell people much about myself. Guess what, I can't figure myself out either. And I think I do enjoy the complexity of being me, not in a way that I think I'm special but more or so like "I'm complex and that's what human is, a complex being".

To sum it up, (though I'm being unfair, to conclude the whole year in this short post) 2022 was weirdly complex but I like it. 22 was me growing, 22 was me stepping out of my comfort zone, 22 was me feeling and acknowledging things, 22 was tears and fears, and most importantly 22 was the year I learn to love myself and actually did love myself the most (I feel like) compared to the previous years. I don't know how many days or hours I have left in this world, but if I were to live long enough until the end of next year, I pray that 2023 will see a wholesome lot of me. I pray that in 2023 I am a better, kinder, healthier, wealthier, livelier me. I pray that in 2023 I'm able to love myself (and also other people around me) more. Until then, 2022, thank you, Alhamdulillah, I had a good ride.