#i'm never attempting realistic liquid again

[withonly-sweetheart]

kisses you mwah mwah mwah "go big or go home" <- my standards exactly (and im not talking height... well technically i am just another one-)

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

THIS. WHOLE. PARAGRAH. GRAHHHH this perfectly sums up what its like to go on dates when you're not a minor anymore like you know what you want and it still feels like you're a kid? so wanting that is wrong but you want it and you know it should feel right but you're too scared to act on it. which leads me into:

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

OK GIRLLLLL I SEE U... baddiessss pose for me (ass fat slim thick no tummy) love the number implications because if u think abt it, its a double shot right which is supposed to be strong and she says one way which means she's not coming back... guys a ONE WAY TICKET MEANS YOU'RE NEVER GOING BACK MEANING SHE WANTS IT TO LAST DID I JUST COOK???

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist.  "Joel—" "Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

oh my god the respect is so amazing... like personally that would be such a green flag because being able to push away ur own desires to hear out what the s/o wants is just!! peak relationship behavior me wants...

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

STOPPPP I NEVER GOT THAT ANALOGY ESP W SO MANY OF MY GUY FRIENDS PLAYING FOOTBALL AND BASEBALL LIKE I NEVER WAS INTO THAT... bc i love them <3 and also they're dumbshits so if i ever try and explain they start yapping abt innings and shit i dont really care abt <3 love ya ishanth ik ur stalking my rbs

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

FUCKKKK I DONT CARE IF IT RIPS MY THROAT I WANT IT- sorry who was that?? anyways love the realisticness bc i feel like 10 inches and smol girl will not equal something very good so love how realistic this feels! always the relatable one, eh liz?

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

... but i don't. thats why i read about it, cause the more ya know...

He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

chat what... but that line was so smooth like ngl i would fold immediately if someone was that concerned that even during sex they were watching out for me... ermm.... ahriasdlkasdklas tweaks out

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

it sure is *tips cowboy hat and gallops away on a brown horse*

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft. When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven." You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.” "Same thing.”

the title ref?? gosh ur so smart thats so funny to me tho like imagine having ur thoughts just blurted out loud cause you cant keep them in... but ig you've already revealed yourself to that person if you've had sex with them? also "death by joel's cock; perfect way to go" an essay by jj - would you read it ik i would (im the goat)

liz liz liz... you maniacal pixie dream... you are the tofu to my vegan lovers burger (where tf did that come from tf) ilysm <3. loved this one.. will be thinking abt... for next few days... weeks... erm... hah.

everything's bigger in texas

pairing: joel x reader

tags/cws: size kink, praise kink, p in v, oral f and m receiving, virginity loss

summary: go big or go home on your first time

a/n: reader is a virgin, but is not specified to be a certain age and in my mind is only a bit younger than joel

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

It's embarrassing. It's the reason why you'd hesitated to even talk to Joel in the first place, fearing he might like you back, in which case, he might ask you out, and according to Cosmopolitan and the metaphorical grapevine, you would only get three dates at most before you'd have to end it. And you better not order the fucking lobster. Ever.

You get dolled up on the night you plan to bid him adieu. You'd feel horrible for wasting his time regardless, but the fact that he decides to treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for your third date, makes you feel even worse.

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

You want him to fuck you.

You try to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror before he arrives, and for an extra confidence boost, you wear the singular pair of underwear in your drawer that matches the one bra that actually fits right, hoping it'll make you feel sexy. But what good is sexy if you’re not going to have sex?

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He’s so hot that even the smallest things can get you worked up. It’s the first time in a long time that your arousal has been able to override your nerves.

You barely get your coat off before you’re pressed up against the door, and he’s kissing you with a type of hunger you’ve never felt before. You know he'll leave you with a case of stache-rash but you can't bring yourself to care.

You stumble across the room to the couch – you would’ve walked backwards into the coffee table if Joel hadn’t picked you up and carried you. You’re not even that drunk - at least, not on alcohol – just insistent on not breaking the kiss until you’re out of breath and you absolutely have to. 

When his body looms over you, all you're thinking about is the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands playing with your tits, making you gasp when his thumbs brush over your nipples. 

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist. 

"Joel—"

"Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

"I should just be honest with you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous…"

You're more than a little bit nervous, especially when you're so used to guys making up excuses to leave when they notice your hesitance after you reveal the truth, after they find out that they're not guaranteed to have you in bed that night.

Joel doesn't kick you out, not even close, he looks unfazed, and you're at a loss. The script you've planned says: end scene, but the camera is still rolling. You have to ad lib.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I’m more than satisfied just getting to kiss you. Hell, I’d be happy just to have you sit on the couch with me, not touching or anything.”

You should feel more comfortable - and in a way, it does - but the novelty of the situation still leaves you dumbfounded.

You can see the worry in his eyes gain prominence as you remain silent.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you okay? I promise we don't have to do anything like that. We can just hang out, watch a movie or somethin', no touching at all."

"But I want you, Joel. That's the problem. I really want you."

"I want you too, but only when you're ready."

“I am ready, just nervous since this is new to me.”

“Is this your first time doing anything… of that nature?”

"No, I’ve done some things, I just haven’t gone all the way yet."

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

“Would you like to tell me about those things?”

The look in his eyes – sweet and suggestive all at once gives you a spark of confidence. 

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you," you say with a flirtatious smile. 

"Only if you let me return the favor."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep yourself composed when you're face-to-dick with Joel. You feel a rush of something — lust, nerves, both? All you can think is: there's no way that is ever going to fit inside me.

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

Post-orgasm, he's internally beating himself up for not using his good southern manners and pleasing his woman first. The best he can do is double his typical dedication when he goes down on you.

He doesn't need to try that hard. In what feels like mere seconds, Joel's fingers work you open, pulling an orgasm from you when he dips his head between your legs and flicks his tongue over your clit.

When he can tell you're close, he says, "I'm right here, baby. Let go for me." His lips return to your clit and with his reassurance you let yourself fall over the edge.

It's not until your fourth date that you actually make your first attempt to lose your virginity.

He makes you cum twice - once on his fingers, once on his tongue - before he even takes his cock out of his underwear.

You're tired by that time, ready to apologize and see yourself out, but then you look at him, naked and hard in front of you, and despite your exhausted body, your pussy drools (maybe your mouth too). It gives you a jolt of energy, a rush of blood down south.

Joel’s body is positioned perfectly above you, ready to give himself to you, but he waits, looks at you with admiration in his eyes but doesn’t touch you. When he does, it's his right hand on your cheek.

"Are you gonna… put it in?" you say, laughing a little – anything to break the tension.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay first," he says with a warm smile.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him.

At your confirmation, his kisses move from your cheek to your jaw, they get rougher at your neck, your collarbone. He sucks on your tits until you whine in impatience.

You feel his breath as he huffs out a laugh into your neck between kisses. But you're more focused on the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. When Joel presses himself inside you — one inch first — you both take in a sharp breath. You're audibly wet, but there's still a stretch, a sting.

Joel sees your eyes squeezed shut and feels you tense up.

"You wanna stop?" he asks.

"No," you tell him. "Just… go slow."

He takes your hand, interlocks your fingers, before giving you another inch. For whatever reason, you hadn't expected him to be this sweet during sex, but you have no complaints.

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

But then, you accidentally sabotage yourself when your gaze fixates on his cock going in and out of your pussy. A sense of shame falls over you when you realize he's only halfway inside you.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's not all the way in," you sigh.

"And that's okay, baby."

"I wanted to be able to take it all… I wanted to be good for you."

"Trust me, baby, it feels fuckin' amazing. You're squeezin' me so damn tight you're gonna make me embarrass myself."

"I can't help it."

"I know," he says, leaning down to whisper beside your ear, "and that's what makes it feel even better."

You whimper quietly - it's a flustered, needy, good noise, but still, Joel cups your cheek and holds infinite comfort within his touch as he shushes you, saying, "you're doing so good for me."

With slight shift of his hips, a change in angle, he hits that special spot inside you and you can feel the pleasure begin to build.

You moan — louder than you intended to — and it almost startles Joel, briefly takes him out of his trace. He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

"You okay? You want me to pull out?"

"No, don't pull out. Do that again," you say, frantically grasping at him, horrified at the thought of him no longer being inside you.

"Do what again?" he says with a subtle smirk that lets you know that he knows exactly what. 

"This?” he asks as he hits the same spot again and you can't tell him 'yes' when your mouth is busy with far more obscene noises, so you nod.

"Right there?" he confirms again, as he steadily thrusts in and out of you, not pushing any deeper, only meeting that special spot over and over.

It's rhetorical, and your 'uh-huh' is more than sufficient as an answer.

Pride mixes with lust and he rattles off praises, knowing he'll get your tight, wet heat to clench around him with every single word.

"You're takin' me so well, baby. You look so pretty like this," he says.

You cry out his name like it's the only word you know, over and over again.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep sayin' my name like that, baby."

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

With begging eyes and a mouthful of moans, you nod and hope your wordless gesture will convey the meaning, which is: please.

Your legs wrap around his hips and there is nothing Joel can do to hold himself back from burying himself to the hilt. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from spilling his load inside you immediately.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, and you can see a bulge in your abdomen, and it would be fascinating if you weren't focused on clutching the sheets for dear life in an effort to save Joel from the wrath of your acrylics as you shudder through your orgasm.

You nearly lose yourself in the bliss of your high, all you know is Joel and the way he feels inside you.

When you come to, you turn to Joel and he says, "I'm proud of you," a phrase that never fails to make you melt.

You want to say "thanks" or "I love you" or any normal response one might give to that statement, but your words are already halfway out of your mouth.

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft.

When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven."

You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.”

"Same thing.”

[sheriffclownkins]

Scarecrow Week 2022 day 1: Liquid fear

your worst nightmares for only $3.99!

[that-gay-jedi]

Me: listen if the scar above Anakin's right eye is indeed a lightsaber burn then he should definitely have lost the eye because the heat from a lightsaber injury continues to spread through the tissue after contact with the blade has terminated. There's simply no other way for this to go, it's fucking plasma, it's going to transfer a fucktonne of heat in that split second which the remaining tissues at the edge of the wound will in turn transfer into surrounding undamaged tissue until all the heat has dispersed. Unless there's some kind of super effective cooling system never mentioned in canon that attempts to contain the damage to just the actual wound but even for an elegant weapon for a more civilized age that seems like quite a stretch.

You're either not wounded at all or you're in serious trouble, even a graze is going to leave deep subcutaneous burns. Once you break that invisible force field that gives the blade its shape there's nothing holding back the heat.

Like have you never mildly burned yourself in the kitchen before? You know why cold water and/or ice feels so good? It's because it's stopping tissue damage that was continuing to happen. And that's way less heat than a lightsaber! Way less!

Come to think of it, that scar is close enough to his brain that he should have some neurological damage on that side, just from heat conduction, and it looks pretty fuckin close to his frontal lobe???? Ventress fuckin gave him a plasma lobotomy bro. I'm not convinced there's any amount of bacta that can fix that. Can bacta even canonically regenerate nerve tissue at all? Brain cells are harder to replicate than regular nerves even. That's why IRL once it's gone it's gone. Assuming it would help, how would you treat a brain injury with bacta when the skull isn't fractured anyway? Just saw his head open and pour it in? Sounds kinda fucked if you ask me.

Like we all accept without question that Grievous lost brain matter during his horrific shuttle crash and Sidious used the damage as an opportunity to alter the poor fucker's personality to better suit his own aims but man, Anakin's got to be missing a chunk of his brain from that lightsaber burn, I'm no thermophysicist or whatever but my guess is he may have lost as much as 1/16th of his brain tissue not to mention how much wasn't lost but might be firing poorly or something due to the heat exposure. We never hear mention of any neurocybernetics for him and the narrative treats it like just a surface wound. That's not how anything works. Palpatine would love to replace part of Anakin's brain I'm sure!!! Imagine the fuckin shit he could do considering what the much less personal inhibitor chips did to the clones.

Anyway back to the eye again I'm not a physicist but like I think realistically it would have exploded from the heat since it's full of liquid? The aqeuos humor would have flash evaporated within fractions of a second. He'd probably be lucky if that didn't also do damage of its own like steam destroying the optical nerve. Or unlucky to survive the whole thing. And what about the fluid around his brain, would it boil from the heat? Is the bone itself burned?

And I mean don't get me wrong, I adore Anakin's eye scar. Like not only does it look cool as fuck and symbolize all the invisible ways the war has changed him but I want Obi-Wan and/or Padme to kiss it when they tuck him into bed every night because I'm fuckin deranged. But you have to admit there's just no physical way in hell that a light saber only left a single line of badly burned tissue and he still has a head when googled estimates put plasma at between 11000°F and 14500°F and the surface of the sun at about 10000°F. I would say the easy solution is to have it come from an actual laceration which I'm sure we could easily come up for a story for in a war, especially with his propensity for spaceship crashes, but the Star Wars universe actively hates easy medical explanations that make scientific sense because George Lucas is trying to kill me. Or was Dooku evil enough to only give Ventress shitty training sabers for an actual fight? And she somehow didn't notice or couldn't do anything about it? Wild.

Meanwhile this also means Qui-Gon died because his internal organs were overwhelmed and/or destroyed by the heat. Either his heart got cooked beyond use as the heat dispersed or he died of rapid heatstroke from the inside. A puncture wound to the gut like that could take someone hours to die from or maybe not even be fatal depending on what it hit, especially if cauterized, but dipping something extremely hot inside your body even very briefly would kill within a few minutes. Which explains why he's only wincing a little because the likelihood he's too in shock to really feel much pain is way higher being plasma'd than being merely stabbed.

Note also how a slight graze drops Obi-Wan to the floor when fighting Dooku during AotC and all he can do is writhe. That's because he's continuing to get burned from inside! His thigh muscles are cooking! But does anyone ever think of that? No, he's just fine the next time we see him. The scarring alone a person would have from losing that much tissue should be enough to restrict movement and cause him to limp the rest of his life and I'm not sure how much bacta and Force healing it would take to prevent it. That's before we even get into whether there's enough left of his muscles to repair. Lightsaber fights should be absolutely terrifying and there should be a lot more Jedi with life altering injuries and the injuries themselves should be absolutely immense. Nobody who ever survived being struck by a lightsaber at full power should ever be the same again.

Cashier: Ummm sir? Ma'am? Mx Thembo? This is a Tim Horton's.

[mysticalrambling]

Hey there😄😄I hope you are doing well...You did my last request so fabulously🤩🤩So I'm back with another request😅😅It's another arranged marriage request and I think its the most bizarre request I ever had so please be patient with me😂😂 and you can decline the request if you don't feel so😅😅...Ok so here it goes..

*Steve and y/n are required to get married under the marriage law, he doesn't wants to but being the good soldier he obeys the government....they get married but steve is cold towards his wife...his teammates tell him to give his marriage a chance but he ignores them...Then the accords happen and without a care he leaves his wife behind who is heartbroken seeing all this..Then after 2 years he sees her but again he feels nothing but after the snap when he saw losses around him and he gives his marriage a second chance, he starts being civil to his wife and cares for her but they never consumated their marriage...When the time heist becomes successful Steve consumates his marriage with the reader out of happiness and she thinks all is well...Everyone returns from snap and no one dies...But steve returns the stones and stays in the past and old steve comes back.... Heartbroken Y/n refuses to meet him and leaves the compound...turns out she was pregnant with Steve's baby and doesn't wants the old steve to know so...One day old steve sees pregnant y/n who is around 7 months pregnant and realises its his baby, he apologizes but she ignores and turn away from him... He goes to get help from Scott bcz he wants to be with his wife and son now bcz he and Peggy couldn't have kids, everyone thought steve was selfish...But then he tells the truth that he never wanted to stay in past, but when he went to say goodbye to peggy, she abducted him and broke the timetravel apparatus and forced him to stay in the past...Young Steve comes back and now his son is born who is around 8 months old...He attempts to get back with his family but his wife still ignores him and doesn't let him come near her or her son...Steve regrets for not loving his wife in the past and also volunteering for returning the stones...Then one day powerbroker (Sharon) blasts the house where steve's family lived thus killing his family, in way to revenge her aunty peggy...Steve is left with nothing but pain and regret....*

Regretting His Decisions (S.R)

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and I loved the plot line. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it.

Steve Rogers Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master List)

Summary: You and Steve get married and he is really rude to you. Then he leaves you behind and goes back to Peggy but he doesn’t realise that you are pregnant. However, Sharon kills you and the baby to avenge her Aunt Peggy and Steve is left with nothing but pain and regret.

Warnings: Angst all the way.

._._._._.

Steve never wanted to marry you or anyone else for that matter. But the government wanted it and like a good Captain, he listened to them. It was the stupid law and he wanted to wring the neck of those who made it. The protectors of the world had to get married so that the world sees them as fellow citizens instead of humans with super powers.

All the Avengers knew that Steve was hesitant to get married and he was doing out of duty. They knew that it was unfair but they all had met you. They all loved you instantly and knew that you and Steve would hit it off. However, the only problem was that he refused to meet you. The only thing that he knew about you was your name and your job occupation. Apparently, it wasn’t worth his time to get to know his to be wife.

“You need to give it a proper chance before you form an opinion.” It was the night of your bachelor party and while everyone is blackout drunk, Steve and Tony just sat on the side couch. For a person who was getting married tomorrow, Steve looked miserable and Tony couldn’t help but interfere.

“I am doing my job and that’s all that matters.” Taking a quick sip from his glass, he didn’t even wince at the liquid burning his throat.

Sighing, Tony filled up his glass again. A drunk Steve was better than a sober one, in his opinion. “A marriage is not a job and you need to try harder.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion, Tony. You got the perfect girl and the perfect wedding.” Jealousy coursed through his veins when he realised that everyone got to be with the love of their loves while he was stuck with someone who he barely knew.

Tony was left speechless and before he could come up with a response, Steve got up from his place and made his way towards his room. Calling it a night, he dreaded the next morning. He was happy for all of his friends but he also wanted to fall in love over first coffee dates, first movie nights, the first kiss and the moment he proposed because he loved you. Not because he was obligated too.

“You ready, Stevie?” Bucky was trying to be supportive but the headache was killing him. The tequila was literally seeping out of his pores. “How are you not hungover right now?”

“I didn’t drink like a maniac last night.” Adjusting his bow tie, he took a deep breath. This was the most difficult thing that he was going to do in his life and he just wanted to be left alone for sometime. “Can I have a moment alone?”

“Are you going to run if we leave you alone?”

“I am not a quitter and you all know that.” They all filed out of the room and he just sat down on the sofa and gave himself a prep talk.

You were no better on the other hand but you were ready to give it a try. Captain America was a good man and he would make a good husband. At least, that’s what you thought. You understood that the marriage was not happening under the best of circumstances but you could give it a fair chance. Taking a deep breath, you went to join your father on the doorway. He gave you a tearful smile and linked his hands with you.

“Do you take Steve Rogers as your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked the much awaited question and you quietly responded with an ‘I do’. During the whole ceremony, you wanted him to look at you but his eyes kept wandering. You passed it off as nerves but little did you know that he was so repulsed by the idea of this marriage that he refused to look at his wife to be.

“You guys are finally married. Treat her well, Rogers.” Fury took you both in a bear hug while your husband just hummed in response. You were like a daughter to Fury and that is why he recommended you as Steve’s spouse. He knew that Steve was an honorable man so he would fulfill all his duties as a husband.

The whole night was spent with you both smiling and engaging in conversations with the guests. However, you both made minimum effort to talk to each other except a few stolen glances. Your feet were killing you by the end of the event but you were never the one to complain. A look of relief appeared on your face when Steve announced an end to the event and thanked everyone for coming.

“Come on.” Hurriedly meeting his steps, you sat in to the passenger seat and those were the last words that were exchanged between you. When you entered the house, he took you straight to a guest room and then left. Whatever expectations that you had for tonight were crushed and so you went to bed with tears in your eyes and your wedding dress still on you.

During the next few weeks, Steve didn’t even glance at you but whenever you made an effort to do something nice for him, he shot you off. He was not willing to give it a chance and for the first few times that you made him dinner, he just picked it up and threw it in to the trash. You were never allowed in to his room and you learned it the hard way.

One day, you just wanted to put his laundry in to his room because he was not home yet. What was the harm? But boy, were you wrong. He came home early that day and he bursted at you the moment he saw you in his room. He called you some very mean things that you do not even want to recall. That night, you cried so much that your entire pillow was soaked but you didn’t want to leave him. You were in love with him way before you were married. He was the guy who saved the world and he was a good and an ethical man. Maybe he wasn’t nice to you but he was a good man and you couldn’t disagree with that.

It wasn’t that you needed a man in your life or you were dependent on him. It was that you had feelings for the man and your parents never raised you to be a quitter. You were still hoping that it all may be alright in a few days or weeks and you could have a family together. She knew that she had to be realistic but sometimes a girl wanted hope.

“I won’t be coming home for a few days.” At least he had the courtesy to tell you this time that he was going. "I have asked some of the agents to check up on you daily so if you need anything, just ask them."

"Okay." You quickly dismissed his questioning stare because he thought that you would ask questions. However, you knew that he would be rude and you would snap at him this time. A girl could only handle so much.

A week had passed and you got daily updates from Liam and Noah regarding the civil war. You still couldn’t believe that Tony and Steve were fighting because you witnessed their friendship firsthand. They had just informed you that Steve and his team were arrested by the government and shipped off to a black sight. You wanted to go to Fury and ask him to release all of them but Liam told you that it wouldn’t work. It was out of his hands.

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t believe your ears right now. Fury came by your house instead of Liam and Noah. He informed you that Chris and the other Avengers escaped from the prison and no one knows their location. Hurt was one of the most evident feeling running through your body and you didn’t know how to respond. How could he leave without telling you anything? How could he just leave?

“There will be some investigations on you but it would be nothing serious.”

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“The government is convinced that you know their location. It will blow over in sometime.”

“I am not going to sacrifice my freedom for someone who wasn’t even bothered to tell me about all this.” The hurt quickly turned into rage.

“But (Y/N)-”

“Tell all of them that I will not be doing anything and that you all should leave me alone.” You stood up and Fury took it as his cue.

Closing the door, you don’t let yourself ponder over the throbbing ache in your chest and instead get to packing. You were going to move out of this house and leave this life in the past. You moved into your parents house and immediately shot down their questions about Steve. There was a bookstore across from a studio apartment that Tony helped you find in the next few days. You loved books and the job paid pretty well. Soon, you forgot all about Steve and your failed marriage. Of course, there were feelings that you had to bury deep inside of you but you successfully managed to move on with your life.

“Have you heard, munchkin? Cap is back.” Tony shuffled your hair as he entered the library.. Pausing for a minute to absorb his words, you got right back into arranging the magazine section. It was the last thing that you had to do before you got off for the night.

“I don’t care. Are we still on for the night?”

“Yes. Pepper is cooking for the first time. Just say that you like the food.” From the past two years, Tony has been your person. He was the one who ordered you food when you were feeling too low or who massaged your feet when you had feet sores from lugging around books all day. You were thankful to have him in your life because he was not there to support you financially, he was there to support you emotionally. Sometimes, you felt so alone that you thought you might go into depression. But he was there to pull you back and so was Pepper. They were your family.

“Okay, Tony. I already know.” Quite a few things have changed over the years such as you changing your hair color to low lights and getting bangs. You changed your sense of style and. now you were pretty much unrecognizable. It was all in hope of leaving the past and turning over a new leaf. And you were somewhat successful.

“So how was the food?”

“Awesome!” The fake, shrill voice was hard to recognise, even for you but you didn’t want to hurt Pepper’s feelings.

“I know it was not good so I ordered some pizza as a back up.”

“I love you.” A chorus sounded from Tony and you as you both hugged her and kissed her on either cheek.

“Yeah, yeah.” She quickly dismissed you both but the cheeky grin on her face was hard to hide. You called it a night when you started feeling sleepy and you said your goodbyes. Your apartment was only two blocks away so you decided to take a walk to clear your head. Steve had been on your mind since the time Tony mentioned that he was back. As much as you wanted to believe that his arrival didn’t effect you, you couldn’t deny all the feelings that came rushing back in.

“Robbins Library, how may I help you?” Without looking up, you asked the question in a fake, chirpy voice.

“Why are you not at the house?” The voice startled you from your receipt checking and you gave him a confused look. As you had time to process the question, you looked over his appearance. More muscular and a fully grown beard was an interesting look and definitely suited him.

“Well, it was not mine to begin with.”

“I left you that house so you would be comfortable.”

“I am doing just fine without it. You know, I didn’t need anything from you but love and respect.”

Steve was trying to do something nice for you but he didn’t understand you. He felt nothing towards you even if he tried. Guilt coursed through him when he saw the look of hurt on your face but he couldn’t do anything about it. “That is too much.”

“Well, I deserve it and I am not going to settle for anything less.” This time, the brain won the battle and you were secretly glad. You resumed your work and he left without saying another word.

The city was in chaos in a few days because there was an alien invasion in place. The Avengers were all over the problem but Pepper and you were panicked. However, the only difference was that she could ask about Tony’s whereabouts and you couldn’t do that for your husband. There were no updates for you and when Noah came to get you both with a battered suit, you were worried.

Walking towards the tower, you realised that many people were crying but the most important thing was that it looked like half of the population was gone. There were a lot of things that you didn’t understand right now but only one thing mattered. One person. Steve. You ran towards the tower and when you saw him sitting on a chair with his head in his hands.

“What happened?” The logical part of your brain started working right on time.

“We couldn’t prevent the snap and Thor escaped.”

You didn’t know what it all meant but it was definitely something bad. “So what does it mean?”

“It means that half of the human population have disappeared. It means that half of our friends, families, loved ones have disappeared. It means that I have failed!”

“Why are you getting angry at me?”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Do not speak to me like that. I do not deserve it. When you are in the right frame of mind, come talk to me.” You were not the person that suffered silently. You were the person who knew. what she wanted and how she should be treated.

Going outside, you called your parents but it just went to voicemail. However, busy they might have been, they always picked up their phone. So you knew that they were gone too. You were alone in this world and you didn’t know what to do. In the far distance, you saw Tony and Pepper hugging and you were happy to see that your best friend was not gone.

With tears running down your eyes, you turned back and collided into a firm chest. Looking up, you saw Steve and you just wanted someone to be with you right now. That’s what Steve also wanted because he felt like a failure right now. He wanted to give the marriage another chance as he thought that it was a miracle that you both were still here after the snap. It was not fair on you but he just needed someone and so did you. It was a fair trade.

“I just don’t want to be alone right now, Steve.”

“Me too. Let’s go upstairs.” You both just silently hugged each other and kept staring out into the Manhattan skyline. You knew that he didn’t have any feelings towards you and you cared about that. But not today. Today, you wanted to just lie down and soak up in his presence because he was the only one left for you.

He brought you breakfast in bed the next morning and he took you to all the meetings. You were confused as to why he was doing all of it and when you asked him, his answer was ‘I am trying’. You didn’t get your hopes high because you knew that it would be pathetic. This was going to be temporary and you just knew it. However, you just wanted a companion so you rolled with the situation.

“We can work around quantum physics and get all of our friends back.” He informed you over the ice cream that you were sharing. A Netflix movie ran in the background because it was a Saturday and it was a routine for you both.

“That’s a really good thing.”

“We are going to do it tomorrow.”

“Nice. I am going to bed. Are you coming?” He mumbled out a small yes and picked up all the dishes to put them in the sink.

The whole day tomorrow you clinged by your phone and called your parent’s number after every fifteen minutes. You looked crazy by the end of the day but when they finally picked up, you couldn’t explain the joy that coursed through your whole body. Talking to them for hours, you promised that you would visit them and you cancelled the call.

Steve came back with a bottle of wine in his hands to celebrate. “We were successful. The world is saved. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Both your happiness knew no bounds and after a few many glasses, you both were dancing to Taylor Swift songs. By the end of the night, you two were truly drunk and one thing led to another. You woke up the next morning with sheets wrapped around your frame and the pillow beside you crumpled but cold. You regretted the night so much because you knew that he did not have the same feelings for you.

The whole day, you spent cleaning the apartment as there were empty bottles of alcohol laying around. Then you went to the library and today was a busy day because many people wanted an update for the past five years of their lives. It kept you distracted from everything and when Tony came in, it was like the past repeating itself. He told you that Steve went to place the stones back but he came back as old.

You stopped listening to him after sometime as your mind tried to process what was happening. He betrayed you. Again. You were preparing yourself for the hurt whole day but this was totally unexpected. You knew what to do so it was a good thing. Detach yourself from the situation and do damage control. That was your motto for the next seven months and you refused to meet him even after you found out you were pregnant.

“You are in the mood of some ice cream with pickles, hmm little bean?” Rubbing your round belly, you walked towards the snacks aisle. The flavored pickle was on the top shelf but it was out of your reach. A wrinkly hand from behind picked up the jar and when you turned around to thank him, your voice was stuck in your throat. There stood your husband but the older version. The wrinkled face still held some similarities to the young captain but he had a slight hunch and grey hair.

“(Y/N), is that you? Are you- You are pregnant?” The question in his eyes was pretty evident.

“Seven months.” You curtly spoke and wheeled the trolly towards the check out. He quickly figured out the timeline and felt guilty. It was his baby and he left you alone. He caught up to you when you were bagging the groceries.

“I am sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know. If I could change everything, I would. Please give me another chance.”

“You chose Peggy so you don’t get to come back in my life. Leave us alone. It would be a favor for this child if he never gets to know you.” Telling him off made you feel a whole lot better and you went towards your car.

Seeing you leave, Steve knew that he had to make things right. He went to the compound where all the Avengers were lounging around.

“I thought you had retired, Cap.” Peter called out from playing his video game with Bucky.

“I want your help, Scott. I want to go back to my old self.”

“Why, Captain? Got bored of the grandfather look?” Tony asked while stuffing his mouth with buttered popcorn.

“No. I just found out that my wife is pregnant and I want to be there for them.”

“That’s sweet but why? You already had your chance with Peggy.” Natasha wasn’t very happy with Steve right now but they all had the same question running through their minds.

“Peggy and I couldn’t have kids.”

“So you are using (Y/N) and this kid as a replacement. That’s just selfish, Steve.” Everyone gave him a disgusted look because they couldn’t believe that he was just using you and the child to fill a hole in his life. Not because he loved you both.

“That’s not true. I didn’t want to stay in the past with Peggy but she forced me to. She broke the time machine apparatus and I had no other choice but to accept that life.” He looked at all of them and saw that they all were listening to him. “I made a time machine the whole time I was there and when it was complete, I got the hell out of there.”

“Oh, Steve. We are so sorry. Of course, we will all help you.” Hugging him tight, Nat spoke on behalf of all the others. The machine was all ready to go so Steve stood in the middle of it with Scott. They had to go back and fixed the machine’s timing and it would take some months to do all that.

Meanwhile, you got back home and unpacked all the groceries. Your hormones were running wild at the moment as you sat on the sofa with your swollen feet on the coffee table. You wanted a companion sometimes who would massage your back or who would call you pretty when you were feeling insecure about yourself or who would bring you food at four a.m. But this was a dream and you gave up on it a long time ago. You were enough for your baby and that was a fact.

When Steve came back, 10 months had passed by. You had given birth to a beautiful baby boy after a 21 hour labour. You cried and even though you had your mom with you, you still called out for Steve. You wanted him with you and afterwards, when you held that boy in your hand, you wanted Steve to be there with you to enjoy the moment. However, it was the last time his name even came out of your month.

“Oliver, you need to eat, bubba.” The last 8 months have been a rollercoaster ride for you and you knew through Tony and Pepper that Steve had gone back in time. You didn’t bother with the details because you had another human being to worry about.

“Nooooo.” This one word was the kid’s favorite and everyone of his sentence started with it. You were interrupted in the middle by the doorbell. Picking up your child from the high chair, you made your way through the house towards the door.

“What are you doing here?” Steve looked the same age as you so you knew that the time machine trip was successful. But you saw red. He didn’t deserve you or Oliver.

“(Y/N), is- is that him?” The blubbering baby did not even pay attention to his father and kept on pulling your hair. He was an exact replica of Steve from the dirty blonde hair to the charming smile. A literal reminder for you but you loved this little boy to death.

“Yes and now go away. We don’t need you.” Looking at the baby, he regretted the day he made the decision to be the one to return the stones. He regretted the fact that he did not allow himself to love you. He regretted everything. “Do not come near us. Goodbye.”

You went on with your week as per usual with feeding Ollie in the morning and taking him to the library with you where he had his own play pen. Then getting light lunch across the street and coming back home to take a nap for a few hours. Afterwards, you both ate dinner while Oliver’s favorite cartoons played on the tv. Except for the fact that Steve was at your house, your job and your cafe from the day he came back. He tried to apologize but the years that you spent in agony was too much. It was too little, too late.

It was a Sunday afternoon and by some miracle, Steve had left you alone. He had a meeting with the other Avengers regarding Asgard today. You were just playing with Oliver on his mat as he tried to crawl towards the stuffed toys in your hands. Before you picked him up, you thought that you smelt gas. However, a loud explosion threw you in to the nearest wall and you knew that your time was here. During the last few breaths, you tried to find Oliver but you couldn’t move. Mentally calling out for Steve, your gaze became unfocused and you lost conscious.

“Wha-What happened?” Steve knew that there was a bomb blast and he wanted to hope against all hope that you both were safe. However, the two body bags wheeled out of the burnt down house had him fall to his knees.

“There was an explosion and we caught Agent Sharon fleeing the scene.”

Sharon had confessed that she wanted to have revenge on Steve for cheating on her aunt Peggy. The new family that Steve had was a disgrace to her Aunt’s memories so she murdered them. She had gone a little crazy because Peggy was the one who take care of her when she was a child and she felt that Steve betrayed her.

Steve didn’t know what to do with his life at the moment. He was left all alone and his family was snatched away from him. He didn’t get a chance to be with them and now he was left with nothing but pain and regret. Trying to convince Fury to let him go back in time and prevent the explosion was futile because Fury just told him that this would upset the balance of nature. He didn’t understand it at first but then as time passed, he did. All the toys and photos that were salvaged from the house now decorated Steve’s very lonely apartment and he never let himself forget.

This was his punishment and he was not going to run away from it. Not this time.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: I loved writing about Steve but I am no longer taking requests for some days. I actually have some of my drafts that I want to complete. You can send in requests but it will take some days for me to get to them:) Love you guys and do tell me if you want to be added to my taglist.

Taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

[dyker-farmer]

Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do. 

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably. 

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh. 

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning. 

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

[leukemiagnome]

i'm so bad at keeping up with this...

Posted to Facebook on September 6, 2019

I honestly don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve interacted on Facebook. I think I started staying away after our climate took a left turn and everything became so saturated in sadness and negativity.

But, the desire to write about my experiences with leukemia and recovery has been something that’s weighed heavily on my heart for some time. It just took a lot for me to muster up the courage and energy to divulge my thoughts and emotions surrounding my experience with getting sick, relapsing, recovering and everything associated in between. First of all, I want to say that a big part of why I was hesitant to write a piece like this was the fear of coming off as fishing for sympathy. When you’ve never experienced something as life-changing as being diagnosed with cancer, it’s hard to fully comprehend just how severely such an affliction can affect a person’s life. I get it. And there is a part of me that wants to simply leave it at that. However, sometimes I feel so misunderstood. Oftentimes, I imagine myself just shaking certain people while screaming, “You just don’t understand!” I know that’s not a realistic thing to do, so instead, I’m left stewing with my own thoughts (more than I’d like to). So, I thought it was time to get some things off my chest. I know there will be different reactions to what I’m about to say; some will still take this post as me fishing for sympathy, others won’t relate because maybe they’ve had a different experience with cancer, and maybe (hopefully) there will be a few who may actually change their outlook on people who have been touched by this disease or something similar. Whatever each person’s reaction may be, I’m hoping that writing this may give me some solace knowing that I simply, “Said what I had to say.”

Mostly everyone knows by now how I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia as summer wrapped up in 2017. Since then, a lot has been a blur as you really don’t get much time to simply breathe. You’re very quickly whisked off to bone marrow biopsies and immediately pumped with various forms of sickening chemotherapy. Many know that chemotherapy is a terrible treatment; the way it eats away at your insides, deteriorating your body to an almost unrecognizable state. A lot of people don’t know the gory details or how it actually affects your ability to retain new memories, think rationally and clearly, or even remember past beautiful memories that you made prior to being diagnosed. Chemotherapy is essentially a thief, taking away so much of what you once loved and what made you — YOU. It tore away at me from the inside out, causing me to become delusional, turning me into another person, and ultimately making me into a completely different person than the person my (now) husband had proposed to. Chemotherapy made my stomach raw to the point I could only ingest liquids and made me throw up blood even if I didn’t know I was actually throwing up blood. Sadly, the effects of chemotherapy (and radiation) last beyond your treatment period and you’re left with a version of yourself that you don’t recognize in addition to being left to pick up the pieces and the task of “rebuilding” yourself. Over a year after having my bone marrow transplant, and experiencing a relapse, I find myself still struggling to repair the damages. Though many of you see me happy, smiling, and optimistic, know that I choose to show you only the best parts of me because the other parts are too hard to come to terms with, much less share with the world. Haven’t you noticed that I rarely post anything on social media? Yet, when I do, I appear to be just fine. What I’m not telling you is how I often think about just getting a physical therapist because, even though I’m a young woman in my twenties, my body moves and works like I’m in my seventies. If I drop something on the floor and I’m home alone, oftentimes I can’t even think about picking it up because I might not be able to get off the floor on my own. I don’t mention how I feel like a huge burden to my healthy, loving husband and how it breaks my heart that I cannot do things with my husband that I should be able to at my age. I can’t talk about how I hate my body and everyday I struggle to look confident, when actually, deep inside I really hate the person I’ve become. I don’t tell you that a lot of the time I have no appetite and I drink Ensure just to get my base nutrients so I don’t fall ill. I don’t talk about how getting sick has put myself and my husband in debt because when you can’t work, you only get paid a fraction of what you made when you were able-bodied (even though now you have doctors bills and medication to pay for) I definitely don’t mention how this disease has caused me to lose family and friends, ultimately putting me into a depressed state that sometimes causes me to stay in bed for days at a time. I don’t like to talk about the fact it truly breaks my heart to constantly watch people and life move on without me without even blinking in my direction. I don’t tell you how I feel lonely now that many people have dissipated from my life and I most likely won’t mention how often I cry about that fact that I’m going to be a bride in December with most likely no bridesmaids or Maid Of Honor. I wish so badly I had friends to help plan my wedding, to watch me try on my wedding gown and to plan bachelorette parties and bridal showers, just like any other bride. Missing out on monumental parts of my twenties, knowing realistically I won’t get these moments back, is so hurtful.

Like I said before, to some people, these things may all seem entirely trivial. But, that’s because so many take these things for granted. Many view these moments in life as “typical,” and so many could not even imagine actually not being able to do or experience these things. I was the exact same way. I went to bed each night “knowing” I was going to wake up healthy the next morning. I said hurtful things to people because I “knew” I would see them again and eventually have the chance to make-up in time. I procrastinated and put things off because I “knew” I had plenty of time to do whatever it is I wanted. But that’s exactly the thing; time is no one’s friend. It’ll go on with or without you. Time doesn’t discriminate and it never stops. I wish I was wise enough to learn that lesson a long time ago. I wish it didn’t take me nearly losing my life to realize all of this. I know now though, which is probably a big reason why I feel like I need to just go ahead and divulge my heart’s aches and just say what I’m feeling. I truly hope no one takes this as an attempt to achieve some quick sympathy. I just really wanted people to know that once the battle is over, doesn’t mean the war is over. Cancer patients go through so much to rebuild their lives. It’s slow, sad, and painful. Like I said before, cancer (and the treatments) rob people of so much, and the journey to attempt to get the normalcy back isn’t an easy one, nor does it always end in triumph. This note isn’t just to help you see things from the perspective of a cancer patient, but just other people in general. I feel like many people today are so wrapped up in themselves and the concept of “one-upping” the next person that they forget to slow down and simply ask the person next to them, “How are you doing?” Sometimes, that little invitation to open up is all people need to keep them from feeling alone and hopeless. I know I am far from perfect, and I have made more than my fair share of mistakes. I’ve probably made enough mistakes for this lifetime and the next. But, I know that I am trying my best to move slower, do things with more intention and compassion, and simply be a better me. I don’t know if I’ll live to see ten years from now or even next week, but I know I am going to try my best to make each day count and try to remind people around me that they’re loved, cared for, and thought about.

That’s all.