#like the emotional pressure i am putting myself under here is enough to feel like physical pressure in my ears

[gumy-shark]

applied for a job and then mom encouraged me to follow up in person. so i went since we needed to pick up some things from there anyways. and i tried to ask about it but i literally could not talk to the employees. could not approach them could not form words. i am back home and this is fucking Hell this is Nightmare Dimension

[pennyluna]

Secretly Mine - One Shot -Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Female) 🔞

Genre: Secret dating - slight smut - friends

Plot: little secret being revealed

Word count: 1.243

A/N: This one shot is part of a collection of one shots I am working in right now. Sorry it took me a long time to post again, I was busy moving to a new country and settling in so I haven't had much time to post but I am back now.

I open my eyes, my sight blurry and I feel my head pounding... ugh. I went out to a club with a couple of friends last night and ended up bumping into Jungkook and his friends, it was a fun night that ended on me having to help him bring two very drunk Jimin and Mingyu back to Jungkook's apartment, where I ended up also staying the night.

After putting Jimin and Mingyu in the guestrooms, I tried to leave but Jungkook's very good passionate kisses convinced me otherwise. Now I look at the handsome man laying next to me, his breathing calm and even, he seems so peaceful so I try my best not to wake him, I try to move his heavy arm from around my naked body, which results on him steering in bed but staying asleep.

I need a shower so I get off the bed noticing how our clothes are all over the floor, my tight leather dress that was almost ripped from my body seems so small laying there next to his t-shirt. I grabbed the clothes and pulled them all into his corner chair  -My head hurts-

I love the water pressure in Jungkook's shower, I love the frosted shower screen and how spacious it is.

I let the warm water run from my head and  wash over my body in hopes that it will take the hangover away, while relaxing I hear the bathroom door open and close but I don't move, I know it's him.

"Good morning, beautiful" Jungkook says while lowering himself to kiss my shoulder. I tilt my head back onto his chest now firmly pressed against my back.

"Did I wake you?"

"Did you not get enough last night?" I say, a moan escaping my lips. "The boys are still here, they might hear us."

"Nah. I just missed you out there" he says while starting to trace kisses on my neck. His hands moving one to my breast and one to my core, where his fingers start rubbing my clit.

I let myself melt into him.

"Never." He says between neck kisses " They are still asleep and the walls are pretty thick so don't worry."

We had done it in here before but no one else was ever in the house at the same time so I worry, I'm not ready for people to find out about our little secret.

He turns me around "(Y/L) trust me..." he looks at me, scanning my face that seem to not be showing the emotion he is looking for so he drops to his knees, pulls one of my legs over his shoulder and looking into my eyes he adds "let me help you relax"

I'm so close to my release that I start shaking and he is smiling at me mischievously, he is dragging it out, torturing me a little and enjoying it.

After one of the best orgasms I've ever had through Oral sex, he gets up pulling my legs to his waist and holding me against the wall. I can feel his cock rubbing my entrance and taking a break from a very intense kiss, he pushes in causing us both to groan in pleasure.

Once he knows I have adjusted to his size, he starts pushing in and out of me, making my eyes roll back ad shut.

He picks up the pace, our kisses more passionate each time and my orgasm is building. I know his is too. I know all the signs of his body like he knows mine and this is meant to be a morning quicky, I can feel the muscles in his back tensing under my fingertips.

"Oh My Gㅡ YES. YES! I'mㅡ" my moans get placated by his big hand placed on my mouth. I want to complain because he stopped thrusting into me while I was trying to ride my orgasm but when I look at him I notice the panicked look in his eyes and then I hear the reason.

"Hey Kook, sorry for barging in. I really need to pee and I think Mingyu is throwing up on the other one" It's Jimin. Jimin is in the freaking bathroom while I'm fully naked. Not to mention the fact that his precious golden maknae's cock is buried deep inside of me. OH MY GOD.

"Jimin. What the fuck? Get out" Jungkook orders him.

"I just need to pee. Give me one second" I hear a belt buckle followed by a zipper and my eyes widen.

"JIMIN. GET THE FUCK OUT." His voice is now seriously scary and some how it turns me on, causing my pussy to clench around Jungkook's cock who closes his eyes trying to level his breathing and then gives me a warning look.

"Kook, I'll be out in a second" I hear the sound of what I assume is his pee hitting the water in the toilet and resign, throwing my head into Jungkook's chest. -I don't think this could be any worse- " Hey so, I think I'll ask (Y/N) out." My head snaps back up and I lock eyes with Jungkook who looks very annoyed. "She looked so fucking hot last night with that dress. I couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to take it off her..." my brain shuts off, I could not continue listening to what seemed like a mini rant about all the ways he would do me.

"Jimin shut up and get the fuck out" Jungkook's words came out slowly but they were a warning that sounded dangerous and it snapped me out of my disassociating state.

"Bro what the heck is your problem? I'm telling you about a girl I want to hook up with" Jimin's tone seems annoyed but pleading.

"I can't help you get (Y/N)..." 

I've always known Jungkook gets jealous easily, specially when people talk about me but this is not Jimin's fault, he doesn't know his friend and I are in a relationship. Jungkook and I have been dating for a while now but held off on telling the others because we want to enjoy our privacy bubble a bit longer. Well that and the fact I was scared of telling people.

I touch Jungkook's hand to get his attention and when he looks at me, I mouth 'it's time', he needs to tell his friend before this gets any more awkward. He has been wanting to tell him for a while but didn't because of me, so I let him know it's okay.

"Why not? You guys are close, you could just talk to her for me."

" Yeah, right. We are close. Very close. So I can't help you out with her"

"What do you mean? Why-" there is a few seconds of silence "Wait Jungkook... are you and (Y/N)... are you guys fucking?" his voice sound surprised and amused.

Jungkook turns to look at my blushing face and grins "Thanks to you, not anymore" 

"Huh?" there is a few seconds of silence and then a gasp "Wait.. are you- is she-?"

I can hear the realization hit him so I do the only thing I can think about "Hiii Chim"

"OH.. mmm... Hii (Y/N)!!"

"Oookay" Jungkook says slowly "Now can you get the fuck out please?"

Jimin leaves the bathroom and I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. Jungkook's hands go to the back of my neck to hold me upright and he bends down to kiss me deeply.

"Mine. I can finally tell everyone that you are mine. My girl."

A/N 2: Hope you enjoy it. Please let me know if there is anyone you would like me to make a story one and I will try my best to add it to my list of one shots 😘

[cheriladycl01]

In your Dreams - Lewis Hamilton x FrenchOlympicBadminton! Reader

Plot: Lewis loves Golfing, Surfing and Skiing, so you’d think if he’d end up with an athlete he’d end up with one in one of his secondary sports. But no, hes with you on the red carpet of the debut of a movie airing about your life and your struggles before becoming the youngest Olympic Gold Medalist in Badminton, and having the most consecutive medals too.

Warning: lots of dark themes and undertones about your backstory in this one’s, specifically abuse in the system, parental pressures, grooming and SA (by an ex partner) etc

You walked along the red carpet outside the Leicester Square cinema where the exclusive showing of your new movie was occurring.

Lewis couldn’t keep his eyes off of you in that pretty red dress he loved. The moment he saw you in it, his brain had pretty much short-circuited and his only thoughts were off you.

He knew in the red carpet photos you’d be there radiant as ever and he’d be looking at you like some love sick puppy. But he really didn’t care, this was your night and he was here to support you … his fiancé.

“Thank you for being here tonight. I know it wasn’t easy to get time away” you smile up at him, holding him close to you and looking at him with an adoration he saw often. You knew he was busy with the season as it hadn’t started off as Mercedes Gad expected and he was under a lot of pressure from Toto that he’d been feeling overwhelmed most days.

“You know I’d do just about anything for you my Cherie” he said using the nickname you loved.

“I needed you here tonight” you smile pulling him into a kiss, the camera flashes instantly picking up speed and consistency making you giggle into the kiss.

“I know darling” he says keeping his hold on your waist tight as you walk past the photographers and paparazzi posing every now and then when they ask you to stop.

You eventually get to the people interviewing you, happier to be in a calmer than the one at the start of the carpet.

“Y/N it’s amazing to have you here tonight on the premier. Feeling right now?” She asks and a grin comes into your face.

“Amazing, honestly to have my personal story but out in such a raw and public way is such a helpful step for people who maybe or may have suffered the way I have an gives a message of hope to anyone who has ever felt the way I did that the road doesn’t end there!” You nod loving that you will be helping millions of people who have shared the same experience as you.

“So before we go in, tell us a little about the film!” She probes.

“Well, it’s starts on the note of me growing up pretty tough and with no outlook for my future, being tossed from foster to foster home, the hard times and abuse I went through there before I come across Patrick DuPont, who we know very well as my trainer and the main reason I ended up where I am today. It moves through my teens and realising I’m talented and some things and how I was naive enough to not see the manipulation and abuse I was put through as a result of that and how I was used by many. It guides you through my most important relationships with people both the most gnarly and the most pure. It’s a really moving and emotional movie that I know will being lots of people including myself to tears” you explain the rough synopsis to her, making her nod and check her pad in-front of her that an assistant was holding out for her.

“And obviously adding onto those relationships, who will we be seeing a lot of?” She asks and you nod.

“Obviously towards the start in my early childhood, you’ll see a lot of my foster parents and my childhood best friend Emilie Bustlen, as I grow up you meet Patrick and my main foster family. For legal reasons we had to change names around because of this so they are know as the Laurent’s before we meet Hunter Goshill, my ex partner and some of my competitors. Before we finally find a safe haven, in this man right here beside me” you smile pulling Lewis forward and closer to you, he looks a little shocked that he’s now in the full shot of the camera rather than off the the side and has a mic code to him.

“You guys met when Y/N was 19 and you must have been what 25, 26? How did that work in 2011?” She asks knowing that’s when you met.

“Obviously I met Y/N at a race, she was there alone walking through the paddock and I just fell in love with her. Once I worked out who she was having an Olympic gold medal I was introduced to her by my then team principle Martin Whitmarsh and I proceeded to win that race. Was Germany! Obviously the year after she was travelling to London for the Olympics and as my home country of course I came with her as it tied in nicely to my summer break. After that she was the one that convinced me to make the move to Mercedes and apart from proposing to Y/N that’s probably the best thing I’ve ever done” he admits.

“Woah, what a lovers story obviously prior to that, Y/N you were in a if you don’t mind me saying quite a pressured and dare I say toxic relationship with ex partner Hunter?” She asks and you nod looking down for a second before feeling a squeeze on your hand in reassurance.

“I mean it shows it better in the film that I can get into words, but I was very young and naive. I looked for anything that would give me the slightest bit of affection which I would often just confuse with attention. And of course that came from someone who was older than me, and knew how to take advantage of me, without it ever feeling like he had I’ll intentions because I was so desperate to feel. Lewis has thought me many things but being loved the right way is the best thing” you smile looking to your soon to be husband with pure love, no other intentions just two souls mingled together as they should be.

“Really a beautiful couple and a beautiful story, just is heartwarming finding out what you’ve been through and how Lewis has helped break those walls you spent years building. I’m so excited to see this movie, and everyone at home watching this is your sign to get to your local cinema and buy a ticket for In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N ” she smiles.

You nod beofre saying a polite goodbye and heading off.

You answer some more questions, some about the movie some about your goals for 2024 in Paris if you’ll get your 5th gold medal for Team France, some were as trivial as what and who you were wearing.

“God, I just want to go home to Roscoe now” you sigh as you enter the theatre, going to get some treats for you and Lewis while the movie is on.

“I know baby, just a little longer. Then we can get started on our wedding planning hmmm?” He asks looking over you and making you smile and pull him into a passionate kiss, teeth clashing and you pulling him in by the nape of his neck.

You walk past some critics giving them smiles and some small talk before they let you on your way.

You eventually sat with Lewis at the front row will all the cast and directors next to your guys as the film came up on the screen.

It was everything you’d envisioned. Tear jerking, heartwarming and moving. Lewis was brought to tears and many others in the theatre who didn’t know the full extent of your story were coming up to you after the film talking to you about your life and how your success had a whole new meaning to them now.

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and antonia.desplat

y/user: I’ve loved you since I was 19, now that I’m 32 and engaged to you, I wouldn’t want my life any other way. I love you Lew ♥️.

Thank you so much for paramountpictures making my story come to life in the new movie In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N

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paramountpictures: truly amazing to bring your story of strength, resilience and success to life.

-> y/user: thank you for putting your heart and souls into this project it really is magical 💥 Also thank you too, all of the actors and actresses in the movie antonia.desplat who did a fantastic job!

-> antonia.desplat: thank you for giving me this opportunity. This movie has been my big break as a struggling French actress! Merci Du Fond Du Coeur 🇫🇷♥️🥐

lewishamilton: I love you with all of my heart. I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved this far and am proud to say I’ll be in your life for the remainder of your future successes and achievements. Je vous aime! 🐻❤️

-> y/user: Sir Lewis Hamilton - the man you are 🫶🏼

nicorosberg: that picture is so old, I took this years and years ago!

-> y/user: Nico Rosberg the OG Y/N-Hamilton shipper 🫶🏼

Instagram Story Caption:

Back on the grind 😮‍💨

Taglist:

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[maximumkillshot]

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Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

LIKE MY WRITING? WANT MORE? Tell me so! Want in on the tags?? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

[greatcelestialhieroglyphs]

Backslide, Vignette, Snap Back, and Oldies Station are so desperately important to me.

For the past few years, I’ve been struggling with a self-destructive habit that I haven’t been able to break. Even though my family has been super loving and understanding, I keep feeling like THIS time is going to be the time that they get fed up and give up on me for good. “Do you think that now’s the time, you should let go?” I feel like I’ve asked that question a thousand times. And the repetition, which sounds (to me) like he’s TELLING the person he’s talking to that they should let go. They SHOULD get tired of me. My self-destructive habits are hurting the people I cared about. I should have fixed it for THEM if not myself, I should have loved them better.

Vignette just sounds like a relapse to me. The way Tyler sings “Man, it’s been a long night” and “Where do I go from here?” are so filled with exhaustion and desperation. The mental image of people he cares about finding him in the woods, covered in bites, as someone finding you after a relapse and seeing what you’ve done to yourself.

Snap Back is. just. Sometimes you can FEEL your resolve getting weaker, you can FEEL yourself buckling under life’s pressures and going to familiar coping mechanisms. You want to be stronger, to have more resolve, but you’re so freaking tired and it feels inevitable. After all, it only takes ONE weak moment. You have all day to relapse. You have all night. You have all week. Can you REALLY stay determined that long? You’ve done this before. You know you can’t.

(And this line of thinking is inherently self-defeating. You’ve relapsed so many times that you’ve lost faith in yourself. You don’t have faith in yourself, so you can’t win. It’s a self fulfilling prophecy.)

And at the end, when you’ve tried everything and said everything to the people you love as they’re sad and angry and worried and afraid and proud and everything else over the years… “I’ve run out of excuses for why I am this way.”

Finally. Oldies Station. Because life is going to keep coming, and you’re probably going to relapse. You’re still learning to deal with fear and pain without hurting yourself in the process. But you’re still here.

“Make an oath, then make mistakes. Start a streak you’re bound to break.” This philosophy is one I’ve been trying to adopt for years. No matter how many times you relapse, you NEED to keep fighting. There is so much freedom in staring again, KNOWING you’ll probably fail, but putting your all into it anyway. Because sometimes, your all isn’t enough. Whether that’s because life is too hard or you’re too weak doesn’t really matter. That’s not what you need to be focusing on. When darkness rolls on you, when you’re filled with grief and shame and whatever emotions plague you in a vicious cycle, you push on through.

You get better. You get stronger. It’s so slow, but it happens. You’re still here.

And when you do relapse again, you may be disappointed, but you can feel yourself on the come up even when you’re at a low point.

You fell into a backslide yet again, but you don’t quite mind. And isn’t that the goal of healing?

Peace?

[thebroccolination]

OW, GRACE UNDER PRESSURE, OW

So I'm in the middle of rewatching "Grace Under Pressure" for the first time since maaaybe? university? many years ago and I'm losing it because I fully forgot that one of the reasons this episode is so beloved is not only because it's Rodney all alone with a head injury, it's also Rodney trying to convince himself that anyone cares enough about him to try and save him.

Meanwhile: EVERYONE IS TRYING TO SAVE HIM.

ESPECIALLY JOHN SHEPPARD.

CARTER: Look, I hear what you're saying and I'm telling you -- you're wrong. You have some very smart, very motivated people on the surface, and the only thing any of them are working on right now is rescuing you. McKAY: Oh, come on! They are planning my memorial service. CARTER: If your plan fails -- and it probably will -- you could jeopardise their plans. [GateWorld - "Grace Under Pressure" Transcript]

I completely forgot the whole Atlantis portion of the episode over the years and basically only retained how incredible of an actor David Hewlett was in it.

MEANWHILE! John is all, "I will absolutely order that scientist to risk his life to save my scientist, and I will pretend I have any authority to do so because my scientist is in danger and I am prepared to make all kinds of unethical decisions for his sake," and now I'm ensconced in all the mcshep feelings of my past.

SHEPPARD: Well, Doctors Moore and McNab are here to study the ocean on M8R-1229, which happens to be under a thick sheet of ice, so they brought a thousand-foot cable and a pretty powerful winch to lower their instruments. WEIR: OK. SHEPPARD (gesturing to a nearby scientist): And Edgar over here is responsible for the magnetic grapple designed to lower the F-302s into our Jumper Bay. WEIR: And you intend to put the two together. SHEPPARD: Like chocolate and peanut butter.

It's absurdly emotion-fueling that John's really not a social person, but look at him assembling his own li'l team of people to go save his shouty nerd boyfriend. :')

McKAY: Well, we'll never be able to stop it. CARTER: I'm not saying that we could -- we're just trying to buy time here. McKAY: In order to make death as long and as drawn-out as possible, huh?! CARTER: Just max it out, McKay.

I'M NOT OKAY! JUST! RODNEY DOWN THERE ALL ALONE TRYING TO TELL HIMSELF OVER AND OVER THAT THE PEOPLE HE CARES ABOUT, THE PEOPLE WHO ARE HIS EXTENDED FOUND FAMILY WHOMST HE'S SAVED OVER AND OVER, WON'T JUST WASH THEIR HANDS OF HIM BECAUSE IT'S GOING TO BE EXTREMELY DIFFICULT TO SAVE HIM.

SHEPPARD (over radio): All you have to do is open your door and walk to my Jumper. (Sam smiles.) CARTER: I told you they'd come up with something.

NOW IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, I'M GOING TO GO REREAD WRITTEN BY THE VICTORS AND CRY MYSELF INTO OBLIVION

[shadowquill17]

20, 22, 46, and 67 for the writer question ask game! >:3

Hi Magpie, thank you so much! ❤️💕💖

20) Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Themes that come back a lot, mmmh... well, misunderstandings are my bread and butter, whether it's small ones in the middle of dialogue, or the premise of the whole fic. So maybe that one?

For the words and/or expressions that come back a lot, I honestly don't even WANT to look, because if I do I'll start noticing it all the time and it'll ruin my groove. 😅

And for the settings... well, the boys certainly do spend a lot of time at the office, so I feel like it's not MY fault if a lot of scenes I write end up taking place there. Add a bed in there (with its obligatory justification), and it's the perfect space. 😜

22) Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Style: I feel like my style shifts depending on the story I'm telling, but that happens pretty naturally, so I don't think I would like to try and write an entire story in a style that didn't feel easy to me. After all that's the whole reason I write, to see the sort of writing I want to read come to life under my eyes! ✨

POV: I have no issue with any POV, I think anything can work if you MAKE it work. I personally wouldn't write fanfiction in 1st person POV anymore, because that's what I wrote when I started and so it feels a bit young to me? These days I mostly write fanfiction in 3rd person POV, but I've written some In the Flesh fics in 2nd person POV, and I still think it was the best fit for it.

Genre: I'd feel a little intimidated with some genres out there, since I’d need to work on familiarizing myself with them, but I'd be down to experiment if I felt inspired.

Tropes: I am a fervent supporter of the idea that you can make any trope work if you've got something to say. Bad tropes are bad when they're used on auto-pilot, because it was easy or convenient. But tropes used in a thoughtful way, to be built upon and deconstructed and explored in all the intricate details they imply? YES PLEASE.

46) How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

Already answered here!

67) Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Ooooh that's a really good question, and quite relevant to me personally because I almost never write with prompts or challenges. 😅

I wish I could! But to be honest they just make me nervous. I don't like having a deadline, I don't like not being sure I haven't missed some secret rule, and most of all I struggle with fitting the story around elements that didn't come to me naturally.

Honestly I really admire people who can do it, and I have a lot of fun reading prompt-inspired or challenge-inspired fics? But for me, it's just more pressure to try and control what I'm writing instead of just following the flow and having fun, and honestly I put enough pressure on myself already.

I do love to be part of events and stuff, but then the most I'll do is try and assign a fic I already know I want to write or that is already mostly done to a prompt that happens to work for it, like I did for above all I want you to be warm, for example. Anything more elaborate, with required themes or words or settings, is not for me. 😬

Aaaaah that's it for my ramblings 😅 Thank you so much for asking Magpie, I hope this made sense! 🥰❤️💕

[talshiargirlfriend]

Trip/T'Pol #7

a kiss to shut them up…

This has been languishing in WiP Limbo long enough.

Trip had been in perfectly good form at the gathering, and yet T’Pol had felt a sense of agitation that she knew did not belong to herself pressing against her awareness all evening. Her mate was troubled. Prior experience had shown he may not appreciate her inquiring about emotions he hadn’t actually expressed. She wondered if he was even aware of them. Humans seemed to share the Vulcan propensity for completely ignoring inconvenient feelings. 

She and Trip planned to stay in a hotel overnight before meeting his parents for “brunch” the next day.  He had professed great excitement at the prospect. Trip had introduced her as “Commander T’Pol, Elizabeth’s mother” and then paused a beat before adding “and one of my best friends” when she met his parents just over a year ago at her daughter’s funeral. Perhaps he was having doubts about introducing her as his mate -his romantic partner-  this time. That would be unfortunate but understandable given their history. 

As they made their way out of the restaurant they walked close together, close enough for him to surreptitiously rub his pinky finger against hers. Through the physical contact she could feel the thrum of his anxiety more strongly. Her concern increased. 

Taking his hand fully in hers, she turned to face him, “Trip, is something bothering you?” 

He glanced down at their hands, clearly startled that she was touching him in public. T’Pol felt a flicker of unease and dismissed it. She wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. 

“Well, Anna’s leaving,” he said, as though that explained anything. His thought processes continued to prove baffling.

 “You are… concerned about staffing changes?” She allowed a trace of her puzzlement into her voice. 

“What? No. Uh, she’s leaving to get married, and that got me thinking… I don’t really know what your opinions are on the subject, but I always thought I’d get married someday.” He sounded wistful.

She eyed him warily. Did he no longer see that as a possibility? “I expected the same for myself,” she agreed a bit stiffly. 

He didn’t seem to hear her. 

 “And this whole psychic bond thing seems pretty permanent. I mean, I guess I don’t know, but it feels that way to me.”

“To my knowledge, a bond of this nature typically endures until the death of one partner,” she agreed softly. 

Again he continued without acknowledging her words. 

“It wasn’t easy to get used to it, but I don’t think I’d feel whole now without having you, this sense of you, with me.” Trip sighed, “It seemed to work pretty well for Lorian’s parents. I know, I know, we’re not them, and we’ve been through a lot since we … would've become them- god, time travel is weird.  Maybe too much has changed or not enough…” 

He took a deep breath and continued, “Look, T’Pol, I love you, and I know you haven’t had the best experience with marriage,” he grimaced outwardly and she did so inwardly. “So the last thing I want to do here is put you under pressure, but … I want to marry you. I think we should talk about it. Things are really good with us and nothing needs to change, but it feels like it’s at least worth having a discussion even if —“ 

She cut off his accelerating flow of words with a kiss. After a moment of surprise he responded enthusiastically, raising a hand to cradle her head. 

“Yes,” she said simply when they broke apart.

“Uh, yes to what?” Trip regarded her cautiously.

“Yes, you are correct.” 

“All right, I like the sound of that. … What exactly am I right about?” he pressed with a confused frown. That expression would look well on her children one day.

“You are correct that it is logical that we should discuss marriage at this stage of our relationship… although it may be a brief conversation,” she conceded.

“Because you don’t want to get married?” he suggested. He tried not to show his disappointment. That’s what he had expected, after all. He made a good show of neutrality. She might have been convinced if she couldn't feel the ache behind his words. 

“I did not say that,” she pinned him with a flat look. 

His eyes widened. “Oh! Well. Then I will look forward to discussing this with you further,” he grinned. 

“Trip. Do you remember when you encouraged me to ask for things that I want because my needs and desires are important to you?”

He nodded a little sheepishly. 

She looked at him pointedly. “You should remember I have a vested interest in your happiness.”

“Because a happy engineer is an efficient engineer?” he grinned cheekily as he used one of her old excuses against her.

“Because you are my mate, and I love you.” 

He blinked rapidly for a second and squeezed her hand. “That’s a good reason. I love you too.”

Quietly they made their way down the street. 

“Trip?” 

“Hmm?”

“I will not consider a ‘honeymoon’ in Cargo Bay Three.”

His amusement washed over her in a warm wave, as pleasant and familiar as his scent in her nostrils, the cadence of his footsteps beside her, and the weight of his hand against her own. 

“That’s ok. I've got my heart set on visiting Andoria, darlin’, and I know you’d do anything to make me happy,” he retaliated.   

“Within reason,” she amended.

“Well, that’s all a guy can hope for, really. Can’t wait to see the look on my mama’s face when I tell her we’re together…”

[wr-n]

Nightmare Takes What's His

It wasn't every day that Nightmare took punishment with a heavy hand. A healthy amount of individualism was fine, toys should entertain him. But Cross has been insolent for far too long. How dare the mortal he chose prefer his brother over him. It boiled his very core just thinking about it. Was he trying to insult him?

The Star Sans' base soon felt an air of darkness, lights flickering and snuffing out inside. Nightmare used dark tendrils to open the door with an ominous creak, further announcing his presence. He found Dream lounging on the couch, comfortably sandwiched between Blue and Cross. Their hands pressed reverently to his chest and side as if Nightmare had intruded on something private.

The darkness intensified as his anger bubbled and simmered beneath his liquid hatred. How DARE they flaunt themselves like this. HOW DARE THEY.

"Brother, please... Must you be so upset?" Dream implored, attempting to placate Nightmare's rage.

"You know very well why I am here, Dream."

The corners of Cross's mouth twitched down as he swallowed nervously. Yes, he had a feeling this day might come. Dream had warned him between kisses and sweet promises that Nightmare would come to lay claim to him once more. His mouth worked to try and make an excuse or to beg Nightmare for forgiveness but no words came. His body locked down and he could only weakly watch as a cold hand pressed to his face, filling his skull and mind with agony. Black liquid bubbled and dripped from Cross's sockets, nasal passage, and mouth in a sputter of coughs.

Dream sighs and stroked Blue's head to comfort and soothe the mortal's nerves at the sight.

"Couldn't you have taken him to your domain, Night? You're upsetting them."

Nightmare turned and saw Geno locked in place near the entryway of the living area, shaking from the oppressive force in the air. Nightmare was momentarily impressed before he stood corrected as Geno got sick and fell to his knees, unable to handle any more.

Nightmare hummed with mild consideration before pulling back on his influence, enough for Geno to stagger away. Really, Dream should do something about that. 

How unsightly...

Cross soon grew stone still under Nightmare's hold, staying that way as the dark god drew back his hand. Cross's eye lights had been extinguished as his very being was drenched in emptiness and pain. The small piece of Dream inside him seared against his soul and drove back a little of the invading corruption but did no more use than cause Cross further anguish.

"Mmm... If I had brought him back, your... friends... wouldn't understand that this-" Nightmare cupped Cross's slackened jaw, "- is mine, would they?"

Dream shook his head disapprovingly, holding Blue close and closing his eyes peacefully.

"At least take care of him. Don't make me go myself to make sure he's alright."

"Please, you'll do that no matter what I do."

Dream allowed a small smile and a laugh, reaching out to him with their influence. Nightmare felt Dream's influence cling to him as he did to Dream's.

'Your jealousy is unbecoming of you, won't you see me more often? I miss having an excuse to just spend time with you.'

'I will on the day Geno has finally assimilated to your power. But until then, my presence may just kill him.'

'Very well, until then.' - - -

Nightmare pulled Cross off the couch and into his arms before the two phased away, leaving no trace that they were ever there. The lights turned back on and so returned the warm positivity of Dream's power.

Blue gasped as the pressure lifted and he sobbed, overcome with emotion. It was too much to be put between the two no matter how much of Dream had been put inside him.

'Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry...'

Blue shook his head and pressed his face into Dream's chest, hiding away and deeper into Dream's embrace. It made Dream chuckle, amused by their newfound attachment. It was good that they felt safety in him, it made it so much easier to keep him dependent.

@koreposion

[lunapwrites]

I am only going to post about this once.

Doing a little cleanup on my about me pages... kinda feel the need to revisit the author-induced HP-verse blowback and renewed fan creator exodus for a moment, just bc I keep seeing... discourse.

For context, in case you're reading this far and are unaware: I am pretty open about being nonbinary probably most accurately agender? still kinda feeling that out, and about being queer in general. So I feel like I have at least a small leg to stand on in this conversation, given the umbrella I fall under.

I understand why other authors and artists feel the right decision for them is to disengage from fandom, or to remove/orphan their body of work. I support them in their choice, and I wish them the best. Likewise, I understand why others may choose to remain, and to continue creating content (subversive or otherwise) that speaks to them and to others who are able to see themselves and their experiences in it. As a member of this camp myself, I salute these people. It's not an easy decision to make to continue in this climate.

I am extremely fortunate in terms of where I'm at in my journey, and where I live and work, and a supportive partner who is cis enough for the both of us lol. I understand that my situation comes with a certain degree of privilege - but that privilege is bought with the sacrifice of my truest self. These online spaces are one of the precious few places I have where I can express those sides of my identity, and my writing is the best place I have to explore them. Characters like Remus and Sirius and Tonks? They're the most familiar to me, and therefore the safest. For me, continuing is the best choice for the sake of my mental health - even with the pressure to quit.

To that end, it... bothers me a bit when I see discourse claiming that people who continue to engage in and create for this fandom are morally deficient. That, by and large, is not the case. Most folks are just out here trying to do the best they can. I don't think that shaming or call-out posts are constructive.

If you are expecting me to post disclaimers or to self-flagellate on every fandom post/fic, you will be disappointed. I will instead continue as I have been and put my limited bandwidth and energy into keeping my queer friends and family housed, fed, and safe. And I will continue to do so without posting about it because frankly I don't have the spoons to advertise every time I do something. (That said, if you're in the US and in need of help, please reach out privately: I probably have resources I can leverage.)

I am a big proponent of doing what you can with what you have and that every little thing counts. Make friends and network. Promote causes. Feed each other. Show up for each other. That's the important part. Like, it's not all big activism and protesting and bold proclamations. Sometimes it's just buying eggs.

Idk. I just feel like we all have better ways to spend our time than all this empty grandstanding. Just go... do something positive. Even if it's just providing emotional support, you know? Everything counts.

[whentherewerebicycles]

gotta be honest I felt real bad for most of the day yesterday but gosh it’s so nice to be able to swing by my bff’s house after work to eat thai leftovers together and go grocery shopping and cackle a lot. my overall quality of life is about to skyrocket and I just still can’t believe I got so lucky.

I feel a little better today, probably because I’ve switched into planning mode and feel a little more in control of my life again. I think I am going to move forward with IVF abroad (though in the meantime I might go through a couple more IUI cycles to use up the donor sperm I still have in storage). more thinking aloud under the cut… sorry I just have to process everything out loud.

I know many people do IUI or try to conceive naturally for a long time and there might be some wisdom in continuing to try the lower-tech option for a while longer. however, I feel like I need to consider the following things:

I only have one fallopian tube now. it’s still possible for me to get pregnant via IUI, but after reading a bunch of articles I’m not sure that the “having only one tube doesn’t affect your chances!” messaging online is true. I can still get pregnant, but it seems like my time to conception will almost certainly be extended by quite a bit.

I need to weigh the practical costs. if I try IUI for six more months, that’s at least $15k, which is almost twice what an IVF cycle abroad would cost me.

I need to weigh the emotional costs. the IUI failures were tough but I could weather them and I could’ve probably kept going if that last cycle had failed. but the ectopic pregnancy was just devastating and I still feel like I am in a place of lowgrade anguish about it. could I keep going with IUI? yes, if I had to. but I also don’t have to use “could I force myself to endure a very painful emotional experience if I had to” or “have other people endured this painful experience in the past” as my criteria for making this decision. I don’t have to compare myself to other people or make choices based on the level of despair I think I can endure. I can make the ‘selfish’ decision that prioritizes my needs right now, because it’s my money, my time, my life, my heart.

I just really, really, really want to give myself a good shot at being pregnant before my SIL gives birth in March. I would love for our kids to be the same age and I also think that would line me up better with liz & A’s timeline.

obviously I would just be over the moon to have even one baby!!!! but in my ideal world I’d be able to have two kids a couple years apart. and if that is my goal, the time pressure is real. if I got pregnant at 34 I’d give birth at 35 and probably wouldn’t begin the process again until 37, at which point it would be even harder than it is now. if I’m very lucky, IVF might also give me the chance to freeze embryos while my eggs are a little younger.

after a lot of research, I think finding a clinic in Mexico makes the most sense for me. it’s a little more expensive than some of the European clinics, but here are the benefits:

I can book direct flights on points

most flights are under 4 hours (compared to 14-15 hours to europe). so it’ll be easier to get there and back if I have to return for future transfers or egg retrievals—like, I could fly down over a long weekend instead of having to plan around major holiday breaks when I have more time off. I think this will put much less weight on each individual try, as opposed to doing it in Europe where a failed cycle would likely mean having to wait 6+ months until I could accrue enough PTO to go again.

I can arrange to work remotely some or all of the time I have to be in-country since I’ll be in the same timezone

no one is going to make this decision for me or give me permission to do it—I have to be the one to decide to move forward. so I’m deciding. this week I will reach out to 5-6 clinics to schedule initial consultations. I’m not sure how long the waiting period is but man it would be great to be able to schedule something for the fall. I think if I had a date on the calendar, even if it’s a ways out, I could focus my energy on diet/exercise/sleep/overall emotional well-being and just, idk, feel like I was moving towards a goal instead of drifting in time like I am now. if I want this I just gotta get moving. and if it doesn’t pan out I can grieve and shift my focus to other routes to parenthood, but I think I’m far enough down this road that I have to exhaust my options first before I’ll be able to let go of this dream and move on.

[beingvulnerableon]

we can hug now, if you want

I still have insomnia, but I am thawing now. I got the feeling back in my face yesterday pinching my own cheek in the mirror and understanding the softness of that skin pressed between those fingers, of the way it yields to the pressure of the thumb and the forefinger, of its tactile reality, which is tender, easily influenced, mellow; the gap between what I see and what I feel closing now. 

I have grown poorly around myself like a russian doll. Having formed a habit of making hollow imitations of myself for every moment that makes me uncomfortable, I have grown to the size of a monument — a memorial to nothing in particular for no one but myself. I use the word I so largely so that it doesn’t get lost, so that I could find it when I need to.

I am always needing to these days, and for the smallest things — when I’m making coffee I wonder if I should've made tea instead, when I’m deciding what to wear, and whether I should come back to smoking… Answering these questions with confidence is easy, I have made it so that I always have a sure sense of who I am in the moment to make a perfect decision in service of coherence, but insofar as the feeling is concerned — “do what feels good”, “does it feel good?”, “how do you feel about this?” — I don’t know anything about that. In order to access it, I imagine, I would have to go into the center, and it is a long way down.

This is harmless enough most of the time, even helpful, (When I am asked at work how I’m doing, I always say I’m good, keep it light, no drama. No one dies and we all survive the Monday), but it becomes dangerous pretty quickly. Sometimes understanding — really feeling, like in your heart, in your body — that your best friend genuinely hopes that you get home safely or that this girl you hadn’t talked to in 6 years doesn’t actually hate you, you just fell off, being both busy with life, that there was no malice at all in that — becomes the difference between staying and suicide.

To desire to survive, I must be able to feel loved. ‘I’ as in the small one, the real one, the very core of me, the one whose grief and anxiety and pain echoes out into those cavernous selves built to keep them insulated. ‘I’ struggle to touch most things because long ago I made the decision not to.

The opposite is also true. When I step under the sun, I ought to feel warm, alight even, but I don’t sometimes. Sometimes someone tells me thank you and all it does is make me uncomfortable. I watch a sad movie, listen to a sad song, read a sad story, and it does not move me. The words I love you does not result into the feeling that I am loved. Nothing passes through, or only get so much as the surface where ‘I’ am not there to feel it. 

I am angry about this constantly. There are times when I am only ever angry about this and little else. I neglect other people’s emotions, I ignore their needs, because in my own world there is only me. Giant, monstrous, Godzilla me, throwing tantrums in a stream of consciousness I am not able to quiet why is there so much life outside how do i come inside it? why is everything so far away i'm here i'm right here let me touch it. 

It’s all so sad and tragic, isn’t it, until you actually meet me, and I’m an awful person. A friend whom I loved turned out to hate me for many things including being inconsiderate, not choosing my words carefully, not being supportive enough, and I think, in summary, because I didn’t seem to care about him at all. Except, I did. I loved him with everything that I had, but I wasn’t able to show it in the way that he needed me to, and I had several shortcomings that I wasn’t able to atone for because I did not even realize that I had done anything wrong. Why was I, for all these years, not able to see that I was hurting him?

This friend, when I can’t sleep at night, I put his voice on in my head, and we’d have an argument about how much he hates how I never let myself become vulnerable, and I would respond with something like what the hell for? So you could hurt me? And he’d say, exasperated, so you could see me!

-I can see you perfectly well!

-No, you don’t. You have an idea of who I am in your head and you talk to that person, not to me.

-Just tell me how I should talk to you then.

-That’s not what I need you to do. I need you to open yourself up to me. To other people— 

-Why—?

-So we can see you— 

-You can already see me— 

-But we can’t get to you, can we? And you can’t get to us.

-Why do you need to get to me?

-So we can touch you. So we can hug. Do you understand?

I’ve become more intentional with prying open that russian doll since we stopped being friends. I wanted to make new ones and I didn’t want to make the same mistakes.

As it turns out, I want to be held for hours by the people that I love. I don't know why it scared me so much. It is the one thing that I feel immediately, despite the enormous distance between who I am trying to be at the moment and the center of who I really am. Touch bridges the gap that words take ages to reconcile.

These days, when I wake up empty, I try to locate myself from my toes to my forehead, long fingers tracing a path from limb to limb, pressing softly at the flesh sometimes to feel a pressure.

Feeling does not come immediately (sometimes it takes a couple of months), but eventually, it follows. During the frustrating wait, the idea is just to remind myself that I am real, to ensure that I can be seen by others, to be corporeal enough to be held. And to be held. Until I am myself again.

[dtba]

Artist Rocio On How Being Fearlessly Yourself Is Inherently Black

Jun 23, 2020 

Rocio is a Dominican-American visual artist based in the Bronx. Often using fantastical visual representations of herself, Rocio depicts the fullness of Black female identity. Through the use of bold colors, rainbows and bolded texts, Rocio channels her emotions through the visual medium production. She uses large stars to honor the younger child she was. Her work is often depicting her in many raw and visceral emotions, she hopes that her honesty and vulnerability in her life’s journey will inspire others to reflect and accept themselves.

ARTIST INTERVIEW

Shirley: How do you identify? What does an Afro-Latinx identity mean to you? How do you embody it?

Rocio: I'm a Black person. More specifically, I’m a Dominican woman of African descent. Being authentic in the way I chose to dress myself, create my art, and speak my truth is how I embody my Blackness. Being fearlessly yourself is inherently Black.

How do identity politics and intersectionality intersect with your artistic practice?

Rocio: I don't sit down and plan what is going to come out of my body and mind and in a lot of ways that has made me feel shitty about myself as an artist. I think about the way that white institutions engage with art and the process of  how they attach validation to certain pieces. My art comes very natural place and really flows out of me. Because it is organic and honest, it automatically intersects with my identity politics even if that wasn’t the initial goal going into it. I sometimes feel like I have a hard time explaining the internal processes that drove a piece, but I am coming to terms  with the fact that that is okay. That all art is political.

Shirley: What are some of the motifs that you have included in your most recent work?

Rocio: I used to think my work was focused on anxiety and depression. But this year I’m realizing the overall theme in my work is self- acceptance. It's about being okay with the parts of yourself, even the ones you consider embarrassing .

All delusions, all weaknesses, desires etc.... It's about being as honest as possible and saying shit with YOUR CHEST. No matter how raw the truth, I present it in a fantastical, colorful,  magical world. Stars and rainbows insect with the tears and matter of fact statements written across the pieces in big black letters. I’m able to honor baby Rocio this way, and accept her in ways I hadn't as a young girl.

Shirley: How has the resurgence of protesting for Black Lives Matter influenced your work?

Rocio: I have felt very guilty about not being on the frontlines during all of this. I've come to terms with us all having different roles in this revolution. Mine being to continue to amplify Black voices and movements on my platform, spread information, and provide monetary relief to those brave enough to be on the frontlines. I was able to raise over three-thousand dollars for protestor relief funds through a print sale for a piece specifically made for the Black Lives Matter movement.

But besides that, this time has inspired me to remain authentic, because of the importance-especially as a Black person -to be able to do just that. I don't want to have put my art in a box. It has been and will always be an extension of my own experience. Even now, in the midst of all this sadness and chaos, I’ve found myself making some of the happiest pieces I have in a while.

This movement has helped me prioritize, and appreciate Black joy. And fully accept art that is the product of my joy.  There is pressure on Black artists to express the sentiments of the times- but in the same way that magnifying the pain and suffering that  Black people have endured under this racist system for hundreds of years., I am here to also magnifying Black joy, Black healing, and self acceptance because these experiences are just as important to our the narrative. This movement has helped me prioritize, and appreciate Black joy. And fully accept art that is the product of my joy.  There is pressure on Black artists to express the sentiments of the times- but in the same way that magnifying the pain and suffering that  Black people have endured under this racist system for hundreds of years., I am here to also magnifying Black joy, Black healing, and self acceptance because these experiences are just as important to our the narrative.

Shirley: What does art curation mean to you? Are you aiming to represent your community, or are you aiming to hold a mirror to your community?

Rocio: While I am the product of my community, environment, and identities, my art is a space for me to understand myself, first and foremost.  My art is my mirror. In holding a mirror to myself and using my platform to document my self reflection, I hope inspire others to do the same.. We’re all out here! Laughing and suffering! Being cry babies! Falling in love! Sending stupid text messages!  We all need reminders, and reassurance.

Shirley: You often depict women of color (which I have interpreted to be you) in your visual representations. In what ways do your different art mediums serve to evoke different sentiments or purposes?

Rocio: I turn to paint to heal and cope. This is an intentional experience I reserve for myself. . My jewelry, although less obviously personal, serves me the same way. Its very much so tied with feelings of nostalgia, things that spark memories of my childhood.

Hearts and rhinestones, mushrooms and raindrops. Its loud and in your face. Its extra, and glitters in the sunshine. Its for the person i fantasized of being able to be  as a little girl. I hope my art in all mediums helps people be more gentle and loving with themselves.  We can all be a little better at that.  

To connect with Rocio on social media, you can follow her on Instagram

To support Rocio's business, you can buy her jewelry and hand made prints on her website.

A CALL TO ACTION:

This post is a call to action to all my Black and Afro-Latinx artists, please keep creating. We are the generation that will set the foundation for this century’s evolution of Black consciousness and expression. The revolution is now, and we must all be engines of the cultural revolution so that we represent our essence and not the stereotypes of the racist patriarchy. This is not a light task. Be careful with yourselves. Self preservation is the greatest form of resistance. I am now accepting Black and Afro/Latinx diasporic works. I am also accepting work from any one who holds different identity backgrounds, and is in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter Movement.

Submissions (works and an artist statement of purpose) can be emailed to Shirley Reynozo at shirlsrey@gmail.com.

For more information, please refer to her activism page:

 Down To Be an Activist or her Instagram page.

[a-space-to-take-a-breath]

Journal 3: Apathy & Loneliness

12-19-2023

Apathy

I have been struggling to feel anything short of apathy chopped up by brief intense bursts of emotion when I’m not around others the last month or so. It seems to be getting worse too. And I’m not sure if it’s seasonal effective disorder or what but I’ve been really struggling with executive dysfunction. My dishes have been half or not done for the last month. I will do just enough work to make them not gross, no food that could rot, make sure there’s no standing water or things that could mold and then I *REALLY* struggle to move beyond that without outside pressure. So it’s like a tidy pile of dirty dishes that shifts and moves slightly as I Theseus’ Ship my way through the pile. Incredible.

You can really copy paste that same sort of vibe onto other things: vacuuming, cleaning, dusting, laundry. All minimal effort put in to keep a safe mostly tidy living space. I don’t understand why my brain works this way. It’s not like I’ve been doing anything in my free time, I have no motivation, desire or drive to really do much. And I have a strong desire to fix these things but it’s like I have an incredible mental block every time I try to get up and do the dishes, or throw my laundry in a basket. Why? Why can’t I just fucking fold my laundry. Or run another load. Or wash some dishes while my rice cooks rather than write this stupid fucking journal entry. I’m so fucking angry with my own inability to just function like a normal person, I don’t get it.

Instead of doing most anything productive I instead sit down at my computer, stare at it for a bit. Maybe watch something for a bit, fail to get engaged, open a game, immediately feel a wave of… I’m not sure… sadness, depression, a feeling like I’m wasting my life away? What am I doing? Why am I here? What is the point of me being on this stupid fucking planet if I’m going to go work a brain dead job for 9 hours with a 1.5 hour commute both ways. Then do absolutely nothing to work against the litany of horrors that exist here? I look at my boss, my coworkers, even some of my friends and I feel overwhelming despair. Some of them seem like they are just biding their time until they die. I don’t want to be that. But how do I change? **How** do I do better? Do I sell everything I own and move to a low cost of living country? Go to work for change? Do I switch careers into non profits working for sustainability? Do I quit my job, get some roommates and throw myself into politics? I don’t know. It all feels so fraught. And there’s no easy answer. I’ve never had a mentor, never had an older person who was willing to take me under their wing in any meaningful way and truly help me. And I yearn for someone to lean on in this respect. Guidance.

Loneliness

I recently lost one of my closest friends. He’s still alive but the friendship slowly deteriorated and now snapped. I still have close friends. But I don’t have many, and they are not near me for the most part. I mentioned this in a previous entry I wrote: I am finally starting to build some level of community here in the city and I have never felt more lonely in my life. Some nights I feel like going somewhere or doing something and my entire being just rejects the idea on some visceral level. There are so many bars, movie theatres, restaurants, shops and other cool places near me. And I just struggle to even explore beyond the lens of my camera.

The era of online community separates and secludes us in ways that are insidious. There’s an illusion of easy community but it is as hard or maybe even harder to build it to a level where it fulfills to any similar level as in person community does. This is the struggle I find myself in, as I work to distance myself from virtual communities and find or build connections and community with those around me. But it comes back to the same problem as before, everyone else also works, they have their own lives and priorities. And community is often not one of them in America. Maybe it’s just becoming time for me to leave this country.

[drdemonprince]

I don't know who to ask about this and I'm too ashamed to ask in any auDHD support group, but how do I cope with RSD from my own incompetence?

I made friends in the crochet community and I've been learning crochet for three years. I'm glad for how far I've come but I can't ignore the fact that I've been talked down by my family due to my hobbies. Since I was a kid, every special interest that I have got shot down or ridiculed and I think because of that, I always have a bit of an unhealthy view of it.

Sometimes, I became competitive and when meeting new people who are more likable, more talented, more resourceful, or have more spoons to create, I wish I could be their friend too so hopefully, I could be like them. But then, I get RSD because of their lack of interest (because I already put a barrier between us) or because sometimes we're not on the same page regarding some things.

I became resentful every time I saw or meet them. I just can't shake the anxiety and irrational anger whenever I see even a glimpse of them online or offline. I can't stop projecting my insecurities onto them and even though I've tried to act nice and avoid any talk or conflict, I can't ignore them entirely since we're in the same circle. My friends like this person, and I know I look odd being the only one who stops talking or is void of emotion whenever we're in the same space.

I feel childish just asking this but I hope you know a way for me to cope with it.

I wrote in a piece a few months ago arguing that most of what gets called RSD is largely just pathologizing a really sensible reaction to repeated social rejection, and I think that holds here.

You are putting a LOT of pressure on yourself, on your own abilities as a crocheter, on every interaction that you have within the community, on individual people who symbolize a desired level of acceptance and recognition you imagine they have and that you don't, on the validatory meaning of small interactions, etc, and so it's no wonder you are bugging the fuck out so much! It's very hard to act normal and chill and take the weird comings and goings of socializing with other people naturally when there's so much weight hanging on every little interaction or cue

(including many completely unintentional or potentially misreadable cues -- it's hard to gauge how much a new/slightly unfamiliar person actually likes or dislikes you, sometimes, and when you've had a lifetime of bad experiences, it's easier to sensibly default to assuming any neutral or missing cue is a negative).

Unfortunately, in my experience the only ways to move past this kind of overthinking and stressing and putting a hindering amount of symbolic weight on small interactions is through lots of practice and building up distress tolerance... and by genuinely having positive or warm experiences enough times that it helps train your nervous system to not associate the activity or community with threat.

It's apt you're messaging me coming off furfest weekend; when I'm around plushy-suited smiling-faced fursuits, I actually feel happy and comfortable around people, because they all look so nice and unthreatening to me! And move so goofily and sweetly and are there for such an adorable reason! In reality, I could practice seeing all humans in this way, because those are humans under those fursuits and most humans are just as capable of being silly and playful as furries are, at least in the right context.

But I have Social Anxieties and so a neutral expression on an unknown person registers as either disapproval or threat, much the time, meaning I am more defensive and less friendly with other people as I move about the world, worsening my own social anxiety by denying me practice and positive experiences, etc. all of which is a long winded way of saying i feel you and i understand what it's like.

In my experience, when I *can't* just run off and surround myself with completely nonthreatening looking fursuiters as a means of disengaging my social anxiety, one way I can at least overcome the worst of it is by having a lot of really mundane interactions with people that are not focused on socializing or making friends (or scoring any kind of interpersonal "win") as their cause.

Having an external goal and focus that you share with others unites them with you and keeps you mutually distracted enough to not be distracted by constantly socially evaluating one another (or trying to guess at how the other person is evaluating you etc). So, join up with some people to organize an event in the crocheting community, edit some example patterns with someone, ask someone whose skills you respect for help with a project that's got you stuck, just generally find some way to share the act of directing attention toward some separate/third thing, and make it something noncompetitive or where you can experience the other person as affiliated with you.

What's great is that research shows working collaboratively on a task as equals is one of the greatest bias-busters for neurodivergent people! So if you have looming anxieties about people treating you weirdly because your neurodivergent or anything like that, aligning yourself with someone to take on a task or a project is more likely to make them like you in return, and you will eventually be able to notice and internalize some signs of that affection, hopefully.

Beyond that, I think you need to just keep going to events in the chrocheting space, contributing to them, approaching people and asking them about their work, asking for and receiving advice and help with your own, and just generally behaving cordially to everyone you bump up around in that world, even if you don't like some of them or have some anxieties surrounding how some of them see you. when we really fear the judgement of another person we feel strongly motivated to dive the fuck away from them, which does not lessen the anxiety in the longrun.

but if the person isn't downright hostile or abusive to us or anything like that, we can usually get a little bit more acclimated to being around them simply by ... being around them, but not prioritizing winning them over, just socializing with others and interacting with them neutrally / pleasantly enough when the situation naturally arises. some people in the community might not like you, or RSD might be sending you some misfires or both, but either way, you can keep showing up and focusing on the friendships and activities that have been paying off, and directing more energy there.

and you'll probably still feel like an overly analytical insecure wreck for a while as you do all of this!! that is okay. feeling better is not the first step to doing better/differently. you can enact the behaviors of being affiliative, pleasant, collaborative, and curious even when you're not absolutely feeling it.

if you have big red glaring instincts telling you a person is Bad to be around, dont ignore that, of course, but you can keep showing up and being a pleasant, active party in this community even when your brain is telling you that so and so not looking up from their project to say hi when you walked in the room is proof that they have always hated you. it isn't proof of that, most of the time, but youre not crazy for having those fears, i have intrusive thoughts like that all the time.

my mind looks all around for evidence ive fucked up in some terrible way that i need to fix, and ive had to make an intentional practice of dismissing those ideas when they come up, and choosing to treat interactions and lower stakes and more blase than they actually felt that they were... but eventually i just got so socially active and had so many interactions that were in fact low stakes and not a big deal that eventually my brain started sometimes believing it wasnt a think to worry so much about.

i hope some of that makes sense or has some applications to what you're working on. i'm sorry that your family has been so dismissive of your passions over the years. it sounds like youve found a rewarding hobby and some people you enjoy being around who also take part in it, and that even the worst enemies you have in the space at this point are not actively dicks, just passively disinterested, so you really do have a lot of raw social material to work with here and get more acclimated to with continued practice. but hey, it's been three years, it's honestly okay if there are some anxieties you always have, just dont let it keep you from getting out there and trying to approach people/engage in the hobby along with other people. sounds like youve been doing fine.

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”