#my 2021 self would not believe this

[professionalfixator]

this is painful

[mysteriousmissme]

2023 IS MITSUKOU'S YEAR

[cacw]

Truly nothing has ever pissed me off so much as this animal. An abomination is what this is. And I'll never be free of it. He has haunted me for years. Remember back in 2021 when we all had some hope for arc 9? Maybe not much, but some. Flamepaw, they called him. And then it was 2022. The excerpt was released. And I knew it was over. Because they gave him mommy issues. But already he was garnering fans. Already, people were buying into his lies. And then the book came out. It was April 2022. The world would never be the same. The Big Sparkpelt Retcon. The name change. Stealing his new prefix from yet another woman continuously wronged by the narrative. He didn't even pick his own name but he pretends he did and thus the fanbase believes this to be true. Never in my life have I felt so hateful towards a creature such as this. I cannot stand him. I can hardly bear to look at his sprite. What a joke. His chapters were grueling and aggravated me to no end. I've never read from a POV this painful. Every word that leaves his mouth is worthless. What a joke. I hope he burns in the deepest and darkest pits of hell. I like to imagine this often, because I hate him terribly. His screams would be the greatest sounds to ever escape his throat, and the flames that lick his skin would be as bright as his horrible amber eyes. They're not even bright in this photo. I bet he changed them just to make me look bad. He's good at changing things when he so wishes it. I can't stand him and I can't take it. He is the worst character. His existence shouldn't matter, yet he is somehow the most important character in the series, and so I could never get myself to really believe they might kill him off. But I wanted it more than anything. Opening each new PDF on release day I would pray that he would be flayed alive. Just brutally eviscerated. This did not come to pass, because I never get anything I want. My heart is as black as his sleek, self-righteous coat. I am so angry.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

a little note: i was planning to share it next week, but i got a sudden burst of motivation and decided to share it today. even though i couldn’t find any fan art of soccer player nanami, i found this art by @chachachia0 on X. i imagined it as the pose he gave for the "Sexiest Man Alive 2021" issue lol. enjoy reading! up next we have nfl'sdirtyplayer!toji :)

.ᐟ more about nanami's best friends (mlbplayer!gojo┊nbastar!geto)

.ᐟ Champions League Masterlist

uefachampion!nanami who is not only a UEFA champion but also a FIFA World Cup winner.

uefachampion!nanami who has won the “Player of the Year” award at the Globe Soccer Awards five times in a row, becoming the only player to achieve this.

uefachampion!nanami who always gives his jersey to a young fan after every match, as there is nothing that makes him happier than seeing children smile.

uefachampion!nanami who was named People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” in 2021.

uefachampion!nanami who battled depression for a long time due to the immense responsibilities expected of him as one of the greatest football players in the world.

uefachampion!nanami who became an alcoholic during his depressive period.

uefachampion!nanami who divorced the wife he loved more than anything because of the hardships he faced. Even though he didn’t want to.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who, despite living far from the media, was on the front pages for a long time due to the news of his divorce.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who was granted a one-season leave by his club to get himself together after showing up drunk to training (and even some matches).

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who, when on the verge of losing it completely, decided to change for the sake of you and your son. He promised himself he’d do whatever it took to get better.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who has been going to therapy regularly since deciding to recover.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who now spends more time with his son. Although he doesn’t believe he’s the best father in the world, his son will always think of him as the best.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who, despite being divorced from you, still texts you “Good morning, my love” every day and asks if you need anything, only for you to reject him each time.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who would give up everything just to sit at the dinner table with you and your son as a family again.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who understands that you still worry about him, even though he’s better now. Even a small “How are you?” or “How is therapy going?” from you means the world to him.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who has never taken off his wedding ring despite your divorce. When you asked him why he didn’t remove it, saying it no longer mattered, he froze and replied, “After our son, this is the most important thing to me.”

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who thinks you never wear your ring, unaware that you carry it on a chain around your neck every single day.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who returned to the field the next season to a sold-out stadium. (The tickets for the match sold out in 50 seconds, setting a record for the fastest ticket sales in history.)

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who wishes you and your son could come to all of his matches like before. Though devastated when he finds out you can’t make it, he’s determined to never pressure you while trying to win you back.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who wears his wedding ring on a chain during training and matches and kisses it before every game.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who, with the help of his friends (Geto and Gojo) and his sister, has truly healed and refuses to ever return to his old self.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who secretly hates his best friend, NBA star Geto, because his sister is dating him. Even though it bothers him, he knows there’s no better choice for his “little princess.”

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who convinces you and your son to attend the New Year’s dinner hosted by his other close friend, famous baseball player Gojo, even though you initially object. He knows you miss them too (especially his sister).

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who is incredibly happy during the dinner. Being with his family and closest friends again is all he has wanted for a long time.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who sees a notification on your phone during the dinner, realizing you’re seeing someone new. Overwhelmed with anger and heartbreak, he doesn’t know what to do.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who refrains from drinking alcohol even though he desperately wants to, upon seeing that person's message.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who stops talking to you much when he picks up your son from your house. He still wants to win you back but accepts that he needs to let go now that there’s someone else in your life.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who secretly feels happy when he finds out your son doesn’t like your new partner. (Like father, like son.)

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who, when dropping your son off at your house and seeing your new partner, wants to punch him but holds back. After saying, “See you next week,” to your son, he turns around when he hears you call out to him as he walks to his car.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami whose heart breaks into pieces when you ask why he’s been acting cold, and he says, “Because you deserve better than me,” as he notices the tears forming in your eyes.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who goes on a few dates to forget you but leaves after 5 minutes each time.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who cries for the second time in his life when his sister facetimes him from Italy at midnight to tell him that Geto proposed to her. (He also wants a front-row seat to see Gojo’s meltdown upon learning that Geto will marry before him.)

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who tells you the good news about his sister and, seeing you cry tears of joy, can no longer hold back and kisses you. Even more shocking is when you kiss him back.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who stops kissing you when you start sobbing uncontrollably. While you were crying and confessed that you never stopped loving him, he gently caressed your cheeks and murmured, “I know I’m not the best husband or father in the world, but I’m trying to be the best for you and our son. Until death do us part, you’re my wife. Hell, not even death could part us.” As he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, he took in your scent completely.

uefachampion!exhusband!nanami who, when your son sees you close again, says, "Come here," and as he hugs both of you, he feels like everything has finally gone back to the way it used to be.

uefachampion!exhuband(?)!nanami who proposes to you again 12 hours after reconciling. When he realizes you’ve been carrying your old wedding ring around your neck, he tosses the new ring aside, lifts you into his arms, and carries you to your room to be inside again. (Yes, he already moved your and your son’s belongings back to your “real home” after reconciling, and yes, he’s thrilled to finally be inside you again. Don’t worry—your son was at Uncle Gojo’s house that day…)

uefachampion!husband!nanami who marries you again in an intimate ceremony with only close friends and family. (Of course, Gojo sobbed uncontrollably and spent the night drunk, clinging to both of you.)

uefachampion!husband!nanami who can now sleep peacefully every night, knowing he gets to come home to you and your son.

uefachampion!husband!nanami who scores five goals in the season’s most important match, knowing you and your son are watching him.

uefachampion!husband!nanami who cries for the third time in his life when he finds out on his birthday that he’s going to be a father again.

uefachampion!husband!nanami who watches Geto and his sister dance at their wedding, with one hand resting on your swollen belly where your daughter grows, and the other gently stroking the hair of your son sleeping in his lap.

uefachampion!husband!nanami who has never gone a single day without striving to be the best for his family.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

divider by @enchanthings-a

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken

max verstappen x reader

she isn't you i'd be insane not to love you

request from @formulaal

Pt. 2 here

"Alright, one more question from the chat," you said into your mic, scanning for a good one. One caught your eye, and you began reading it aloud before realizing it would reveal something from your past. “Would you choose a guy over your best friend?”

Laughing humorlessly, you looked into the camera with a tight smile. “Anyone who’s been here for a while knows how relevant that question is to my life. But my answer hasn’t changed: if you’re choosing a romantic partner over your best friend, you can get fucked. Thanks for tuning in, everyone. See you around.”

Logging off, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the kitchen to refill it. Checking your phone, you smiled at the stats from the stream—10k of your fans tuning in tonight was a big turnout. You’d gone viral on BookTok back in 2020, and now, your book podcast had a solid following. Normally, BookTok didn’t bring huge numbers, but thanks to your former best friend, your popularity had skyrocketed. As grateful as you were, his part in your success irritated you now.

Then a notification popped up on your screen, and you rolled your eyes.

MV: Nice stream.

You: Fuck off

MV: Glad I’m still living rent-free in your head.

You: Glad you got permission to text me.

You threw your phone down on the counter, boiling inside. Nobody got under your skin like he could, especially after 20 years of knowing exactly how to do it. Growing up, it hadn’t always been this way. At 10, you’d moved with your family to the Netherlands, right next door to the Verstappens. Max quickly became your best friend, your weekends spent watching him kart. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine things would end like this.

You met Kelly in 2018 at a race Max invited you to. Right away, you got weird vibes. She looked at Max like a toy she had to have. It was creepy, especially given the nine-year age gap. By 2019, they were dating, and she made it clear she didn’t like you, refusing to acknowledge your existence. That led to rocky times between you and Max; he always had excuses to avoid seeing you. When you were together, he seemed tense, as if being watched.

Everything fell apart in Australia 2021.

Flashback

Max invited you to the first race of the 2021 season, though you almost didn’t go. It felt obligatory, as if he invited you just because you’d never missed an opening race. You hadn’t seen him all winter, just exchanging quick holiday texts. Walking into the paddock, you felt a strange sense of finality, like this might be the last one.

Spotting Carmen outside Mercedes, you walked over and hugged her. As you stepped back, she looked worried.

“What’s up?”

She hesitated. “I thought you should know, Kelly’s been saying some nasty things about you around the paddock. No one believes her, but… I wanted you to know.”

“What is she saying?” you asked, heart sinking.

“She’s calling you pathetic, saying you’re still pining over your childhood crush and using Max to become an influencer,” she said softly, looking at you with sympathy.

“You’re joking,” you said, anger simmering. She shook her head.

“Can I be real with you?” She asked, and you nodded. “I love you and George loves you and honestly, everyone does. But I will accept not seeing you here anymore if you finally realize that Max is not being a good friend to you. And he hasn’t been for a long time.”

Eyes filling with tears, you let her words sink in. She was right, but admitting it was brutal. Maybe staying around him was just self-inflicted pain.

You found Max later, pulling him aside.

“I only have a few minutes, so make it quick,” he said, barely looking at you. Seeing him like this, you realized that the man in front of you wasn’t your best friend anymore.

“Your girlfriend’s telling people I’m a pathetic loser here to use you for fame,” you said, voice flat.

“I don’t believe that,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“Really?” you laughed bitterly. “You don’t believe that from your girlfriend—the one who’s disliked me since day one?”

“Seems like you have something to say, Y/N. Just say it,” he replied, finally looking at you.

“There was a time in my life where I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live without you. But now I’m living it. Have the past ten years been nothing to you? All it took was an older woman to bat her eyelashes at you and that was it?”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going to stand here and tell you that we had a good run and that I wish you the best. Fuck you. Fuck you for choosing her over me and fuck you for even letting it have to be a choice. I hate you.”

End of Flashback

That was the last time you had spoken to him. There were no texts or calls after that; his life just went on like normal while you felt like you were dying inside. You had thrown yourself into your work after that and now had over a million followers and subscribers to your podcast. You’d stayed friends with Carmen but hadn’t returned to a race since that day. You had tried to block the memory of that day from your mind, but when you were low, one thing always resurfaced in your mind. Kelly was right about you pining after your childhood crush. You had been in love with Max back then. How could you not be?

Then Carmen invited you to the Austin GP, and after much persuasion, you finally agreed. Thanks to your online following, you flew down with her, officially a Mercedes guest. Wearing Mercedes colors felt like poetic justice.

When you entered the paddock, a wave of nostalgia and sadness hit you. But it disappeared as you saw familiar faces you’d missed over the years.

"Y/N!" Alex called, arms open. Hugging him, you sighed, realizing how much you’d missed everyone. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you admitted before greeting Lily, who gushed over your podcast and joked about being a guest. As you laughed with her, you noticed Alex subtly trying to block your view. Looking over, you saw Max walking by. He did a double take, but you turned back to Lily, ignoring his stare.

Later, as you waited for a coffee, you overheard Checo’s wife and Fernando’s girlfriend chatting.

“I heard Max and Kelly broke up,” Melissa said.

“Oh yeah, it’s been a few months,” Carola replied, shrugging. “Apparently, he was in love with someone else the whole time.”

You smirked. So Kelly finally experienced what it felt like to be second choice.

The race came and went, and you successfully avoided Max the entire weekend. You didn’t even think about the possibility of running into him when you accepted Carmen’s invitation to go out that night. George had actually wanted to go out, so you found yourself at a little country bar that night with what seemed to be the whole grid. You felt Max’s gaze the second you walked in, and you were doing a hell of a job ignoring him. Charles was trying to talk to him, looking confused between the two of you, but you didn’t care.

Ordering another gin and tonic you felt him come up next to you and you refused to look over.

“Put hers on mine,” Max said, handing over his card. You tried to leave, but he held out an arm to stop you.

“No ‘thank you’?” he teased, eyes intense.

You glared. “You can have it, then.”

“Stop being difficult,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You look good.”

“Can’t say the same about you,” you shot back, and his expression darkened.

He sighed. “Can we talk?”

“I said everything I needed to say three years ago. Have a good night.”

This time he let you go and you made your way back to Carmen who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay?” She asked, and you nodded.

A little while later, you were sitting at a table talking with Charles with Max hovering close by.

“Max, come sit down,” Charles slurred, and at this point, you were too tipsy to put up a fight about it. “Max is my best friend, ya know?”

“Ah yeah?” You asked head tilting. “Those words don’t mean much coming from him.”

Charles giggled, too drunk to understand what you meant and Max clenched his jaw looking at you.

“Insult me all you want schatje, as long as you’re talking to me I’ll take it,” he said and you didn’t say anything, just stared at him trying to figure out his angle.

“Is this the girl Kelly broke up with you over?” Charles asked and Max whipped his head towards him. “You always had a thing for her, so I told Alex that was my guess.”

Max’s face fell, and you froze. Shock turned into anger as you got up and stormed out. You felt Max following and soon he was in front of you, blocking your path.

“Come on,” he urged, leading you to a nearby park.

“Max, I don’t want to talk,” you said firmly, pulling away.

“I don’t care,” he replied, frustrated. “Tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

You laughed bitterly. “Crawling back because you got dumped? It’s too late.”

“It’s not like that.”

“You made your choice three years ago. Now live with it.”

“You want to know why we broke up?”

“I don’t really give a fuck,” you replied before turning to walk away.

“She isn’t you!” He yelled. Your legs stopped moving as your mind reeled.

Whirling on him you got into his face, “You don’t get to fucking say that to me. Not after all this time. Not after what you put me through. Not after you chose her over me. I was there the whole time Max. Me! I was there! It’s not my fault you didn’t realize that till I was gone.” 

“I realized it long before then,” he said softly, and you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Tears were starting to fall, and you looked everywhere but him. 

“Then why?” You whispered, voice cracking. 

“Because I wasn’t good enough for you,” he said laughing sadly to himself. “The pressure was starting to cave in back then and I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You were my best friend Max,” you said exasperated. “I would have done anything for you.” 

“It’s easy to see that now,” he said. “But then you were so full of life and starting your little videos that I didn’t want to disappoint you. She understood what I was going through, but I never stopped loving you.” 

“Then why did you still push me away?” 

“I had to do that so that I could try and move on. She knew and she hated that there wasn’t anything she could do to change how I felt about you. I knew what she was saying about you in the paddock, and I knew why she was saying it.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and it felt like heartbreak all over again. “You knew and you let it happen. You are the worst person I’ve ever known Max Verstappen.”

He was crying now too and the two of you stood staring at one another not saying anything. 

“I would be insane not to love you,” he said softly and it made you cry harder. “So I will do whatever it takes for however long to make up for what I did.” 

He let you go again and you left him there, crying silently as you walked back to the hotel. So many emotions going through your mind paired with confusing feelings. 

Happiness for your 15-year-old self that has wanted to hear those words for so long. 

Sadness for your 21-year-old self reliving those memories. 

And anger at your 24-year-old self for considering letting him make it up to you. 

[daretoassume]

how i counteract my negative beliefs.

over the years, i knew that i had lingering thoughts and beliefs that did not serve me. so, at the beginning of 2021, i started doing shadow work, which was very scary to me because there was a lot to uncover. i began to understand that those beliefs were programmed into me since i was a kid. i knew if i wanted to create my reality consciously, i had to let them go and change those beliefs. i did not deny that i had those beliefs. i acknowledged them so i could let them go.

like i said, i did shadow work first (which i still do every year so that i am always aware and can self-reflect on what needs changing). then i started doing affirmations, visualization, and commanding over the years. i do affirmations every morning right after my meditation. i feel them as if they were true while holding my chest with both hands. i always do my affirmations in front of the mirror and look myself in the eyes. sometimes it ends up as a whole conversation of affirmation, and i feel good the entire day.

next, i did visualization. since i love to daydream, i took that as an advantage but with full control. so i visualize myself with my desires showing up and getting into the feeling. "what would it feel like if my desires showed up?" i would try my best to feel my imagination in all my senses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch) sometimes it takes just a few minutes to get into that feeling but i stop right after i feel it, and continue what i am doing. sometimes i fall asleep while doing it.

lastly, there is commanding, which i mastered this year. since i have worked on my self-concept over the years, it is much easier to command my brain. now, if a negative belief comes up and i feel it, my body would fidget, and my leg starts to shake. the moment this happens, i always catch myself and tell myself, "hey, if this negative belief is true/possible, how come the positive belief is a lie/impossible when they are both neutral?" then i choose to command my brain with the positive belief or thought instead of being anxious about the negative belief. then the negative belief is gone!

because i am aware

that i have the power,

my imagination is real,

and i am deserving and worthy of everything i want in life.

if i understand those 3 things, then why choose to believe or have that negative belief? if i truly understand those 3 things, i would embody the feeling of my natural self which is my divine self. and if all beliefs are neutral, then i would choose to believe the one that serves me more. this is how i discipline my mind.

it's not about having no negative beliefs at all but having to counteract and always choosing what serves me more. my inner conversations are always me discipling myself and filing it with so much knowledge, love, and compliments.

"walk in the assumption that you are what you want to be. if you feast on that and remain faithful to that mental diet, you will crystallize it. you will become it in this world." ♱ five lessons: thinking fourth-dimensionally, neville goddard

you see, there are no "magic" techniques. it is only a matter of choosing the best for yourself. nobody will do this for you. if you are not willing to work on yourself, how will you experience change in your reality in ways you prefer?

[lovebvni]

mindset of manifestation & how i manifest

like melanie martínez, i am back from the dead.

i apologize for being gone so long, but i needed a break from tumblr. i saw toxicity swirling in the community, my life got busy, and i decided it was just time for a break. when i was planking to come back, i just saw how things got terrible and i got upset and decided not to come back.

so, im back now and with a little tutorial on how i manifest!!! <3 i hope this can help some of you out.

let’s start with background.

manifesting is kind of like predicting the future. you have something you want to happen, then it happens soon after. i feel like this is the easiest way to get into the manifestation mindset. you cannot change what you’re getting if you want it. could you change your mind later and return it like a package? yes! but before it arrives, you know it’s arrival is coming.

sure, there can be delays, but it all is going to turn out YOUR way in the end.

nile and i have been working on our mindset and this is something they wrote that i think can be really helpful — as it was to me.

from the past two years we have been actively manifesting, we learned that we often saw things as “crazy”. but manifesting isn’t crazy, it’s quite normal.

every time you get dressed in the morning, it’s an act of manifestation. you’re showing up with what you want.

manifestation is a mondane activity!! stop treating it like it was a kiss from an angel!

by reading this, you’re manifesting your eyes working, you’ve used your hands to open an app, and you have believed you can read and get through this blog! without manifesting that, you would not be here.

the first step to manifestation is believing you can do it, believing you have done it, and believing you will continue to do it. period.

there are many MANY different ways to manifest, but i manifest in 3 ways (sometimes i use all three, sometimes i use just 1 or 2.)

!! I ALMOSR FORGOT TO PUT THIS AND IM ADDING IT BEFORE I GET TO NUMBER 2 OMG!!

STOP! BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE I WANT YOU TO GET A NOTEBOOK, A SHEET OF PAPER, OR MAKE A CHECKLIST ON YOUR PHONE IN YOUR NOTES APP!!!

now i want you to write down everything you want right now down and leave the boxes blank if you haven’t gotten them yet.

once you get through that, i want you to randomly click between some of the items you want and write down things you wanted that you did get! they can be some simple and things from years ago, what matters is you have them down. throw in some things that you may have to do for school or work while you’re at it.

here’s an example! (left is before checking off, right is after)

as you can see, i added a note to the side because i got what i wanted and more abundantly! i had been manifesting a dog since i was a young child, and in 2021, i got 2!!!! (one is laying at my feet right now <3)

continue to do this daily, weekly, or whatever you have time for. i personally do this on notion and i try to add something new daily (im adding the heartstopper thing rn!!)

but yeah!! write everything u want down, and continue to add to it, just so u can see progress DOES happen and your work and effort DOES pay off!

affirming and persisting

this id the first way i learned to manifest, and the most self-explanatory.

you simply repeat what you want over and over until you get it! but not in the future tense, in the current or past tense.

ex; “i passed my maths final!”, “im so happy my boyfriend gave me those roses for valentine’s day, he’s so sweet!”, “i finished the essay for english like a week before it was due!” “i got the lead role in my play! im so excited!” etc.

now, the common factor between all of these is having a positive mindset about them. i cannot tell you HOW many times i manifested something would go well, and right before they happened, i got in a shitty mind space and wondered if it would ever happen.

but, nonetheless, i persisted through and i got what i wanted.

the pain have have been feeling cant compare to the joy that is coming. Romans 8:18

persisting is basically pushing through. think about the time you didn’t think you would make it through an injury, a school year, a trial, yet you still walked through it — even if it was slow.

like when work days are long and you want to go home, but you can’t, so you persist.

i try to think of my manifestations as an ultimatum. it’s going to happen, and that’s final. the only thing you have to do to get it is stay conscious.

and staying conscious, walking through those days, is how you get to the end!

i use affirming and persisting with pretty much everything, which is why it was first.

2. listening to subs.

it’s that simple — listen to an audible subliminal that has the results you want over and over!! that’s all i do u guys. here’s my playlist if u want it (IF I DELETE IT CHECK MY PINNED POST!! I UPDATE IT OFTEN)

i often use @stilljuststardust’s subs, slade’s subs, enchanted workshops’ subs and i want it, i got it’s subs!

all of them are trusted and credible. i cannot promise you that all the subs in my playlist will work for you, as they are (sometimes) linked to my personal desires.

3. pinterest manifestation!!

i recommend having either a whole pinterest account or a board set aside for this way of manifestation.

you simply make boards (or sections) for things you want. i would say this is best for physical items, people, looks, makeup, etc. things that re physically tangible, rather than something like reality shifting (although i do have a reality shifting board! it has been working pretty well <3)

i also have one for my mindset, my religion, so on and so forth (link btw)

i think this is pretty self explanatory. just save picture of things you want and quotes/affirmations and DONE!

i also use this sub with it :p it’s worked WONDERSSS!

if you have any other questions i will be happy to answer them!! i love you all!! go manifest!!

[innaillus]

Drawing Ryōmen Sukuna

Development notes

This post has been in the making since last year, before the manga has reached its current arc. My aim was to respond to comments that pointed out that my version of that time didn't look like the one in the anime. I calculate everything I do and the way I do it. My current goal is to share my thoughts on the development of my take on him - simply because I'm a nerd when it comes to anatomy and I love figuring things out. It involves a lot of thinking, questioning, analysis, dissecting information and building theories. So I totally understand if it's not anyone's cup of tea.

MANGA SPOILER WARNING

The very beginning

I used to have a serious case of lack of self-confidence. My earliest art of Sukuna dates back to 2021, but it always felt like my skills are not worthy of this particular character. I never shared my art. I was also struggling to find my artistic voice. I was obsessed with the idea of semi-realism, but even if I managed to pull it off after weeks of stylisation practices, I didn't like the results.

Due to personal reasons, I stopped trying to draw him for a long time.

The development of "my" version

It was an entirely conscious decision to draw him differently.

The top reasons for the change was that I didn't want to sexualise him in his host, Yuuji, who is a minor. Back then I thought he inflicted the deformation on himself (extra limbs, eyes, etc), for the sake of efficiency, and I was curious what he looked like before that - or what he would look like in a civilised environment.

During the process, I considered a number of factors:

the beauty standard of the other JJK men - I wanted him to fit the lineup - his original appearance made him stand out quite much

in a setting where he adheres to the rules of society, more or less, I believe his MBTI personality type (ENTJ) would dictate a lot of his choices when it comes to appearance, at least to a certain extent. I thought he would choose to have an appearance that fits the beauty standards of the era

I kept his tattoos because it's a very distinguishing feature of him, but I also exercise freedom in the way I draw them, to make them as stylish as possible

Reincarnation

I used to believe once he reincarnates, his proportions would be closer to that of a "normal" human, even if he has some extra limbs. However, his size and features are above and beyond of what we are used to, and even the story emphasises their malformed appearance. So a a whole new era of Sukuna started in my art. I chose my favourite manga panels of him and mix-and-matched the most attractive features into a figure that I consider on the fine edge of monstrosity and unconventional handsomeness.

Even when I draw him with a regular number of limbs, I keep his usual mass and proportions. I dubbed this form "true gains" form.

I also realised that some of the tattoos Yuuji's body displayed was a product of the partial reincarnation stage, like we see it on Tsumiki's forehead.

NOTE: Did anyone notice that Sukuna is getting progressively more and more human/handsome in the manga? When he took over Megumi's body, I also noticed that as the story progressed, he started to look older and more mature. I'm curious of it was a conscious decision.

Twin dilemma and speculations

According to the Japanese wikipedia page, the mythical figure Sukuna could have been a conjoined twin. Despite my extensive digging in the matter, I was shocked by the recent lore drop.

My question: what does Sukuna look like in a universe where he did not absorb his twin in the womb during development?

It hasn't been confirmed, but I find it very possible now that he was born with his extra limbs, eyes and mouth, as well as the deformed, wide features. (...as opposed to my first theory about him altering his own body for the sake of efficiency)

This, however, would mean that in a universe where both him and his brother are born healthily, he would look different. There is the obvious lack of extra arms, eyes and mouth - but I believe he would also be closer to the JJK beauty standard of men, as far as proportions go (eg. more narrow face, anime-esque nose, larger eyes).

At first I was hesitant to accept this idea, as I'm very attached to the 4-arm hulk / "true gains" form now, but then I realised: this would mean that "my"version of him actually has logically explainable place in at least an alternate universe.

Thank you if you got this far.

I may edit this post later. Let's see where the story takes us.

[queenofvelaris]

Worthy

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 9.7k (don’t look at me)

Contains: ANGST but with a happy ending, mentions of abuse, self-deprecation, Tony’s stupid quips, fight scenes (its age of ultron duh), tooth-rotting fluff, minor character deaths

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. Everyone except for the reader and her family belongs to Marvel.

Author’s Note: hiiii so I wrote this in 2021 when I was going through a really dark time. It brought me so much peace to write it and I figured it was time I share it with the world. Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts (such as if I should post more cause I got more 🫣) anyways I hope you like it!!

***

Worthy. What a ridiculous word. A hypocritical one, too. There are those who believe with everything they’ve got— even to the point of being prideful— that they’re worthy. Others hope that they are. And the rest feel, deep down inside, that they’ll never be worthy.

“I bet it’s a trick,” Clint commented, spinning drumsticks between his fingers. He was sat next to Maria, and on his other side, Bruce and Natasha were deep in conversation. Tony and Rhodey sat on the futon. Dr. Cho was asleep.

Thor chuckled and handed a newly opened beer bottle to Steve. (Y/N) was on the carpet, her back against Steve’s strong legs. Thor shook his head. “No, no. It is much more than that.”

“Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power,” Clint mocked in a Shakespearean voice that made (Y/N) snort. “Whatever, man!”

Thor grinned and indicated his hammer, propped up on the coffee table. “Please, be my guest.”

Tony smirked at Clint. “Go ahead!”

Clint raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He leaped to his feet.

“Oh, this is gonna be beautiful,” Rhodey remarked.

Steve leaned down and whispered in (Y/N)’s ear. “Five bucks says he gives up after five seconds.”

“You’re on,” (Y/N) shot back. “I say ten seconds… gotta give the man a little credit.” She smiled to herself as Steve tickled her shoulder. If she were on the same level as him, she’d tickle him right back.

From the very beginning of the Avengers initiative, after that whole mess in 2012, Steve has always been the one (Y/N) was closest to, Clint being a very close second. It was an instant click. They loved the same movies, traded jokes and sarcastic comments, trained together, and even fell asleep next to each other on the couch on days off. Three years later, they are as close as ever.

Clint approached Mjölnir, a swagger in his step. Tony leaned forward in his seat. “Clint, you’ve had a tough week. We won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.”

Everyone chuckled at that and Clint ignored them, eyeing Thor. “You know I’ve seen this before, right?”

He reached for the handle and tugged, grunting as he did so. About five seconds later, he gave up, shaking his head. “I still don’t know how you do it!”

“Smell the silent judgment?” Tony jeered at Clint as (Y/N) grudgingly handed Steve five bucks.

Steve made it better with a flash of his perfect smile and a wink from his pretty blue eyes. Beaming, she rolled her eyes and focused on the petty ones in the room.

Clint held out his hand. “Stark, by all means.”

Tony shrugged and stood, earning a chorus of “Uh oh”, “Mmm-hmm”, “Oh here we go.” He practically strutted over to the hammer. “Never been one to shy away from an honest challenge.”

“Yeah, but how often do you win ‘em?” (Y/N) muttered and Steve laughed so hard he choked on his beer. Rhodey and a couple others went “ooo!”

Tony shot her a playful glare and looped his wrist through the loop on the top of the handle. “It’s physics.” He glanced at Thor. “Alright, so, uh, if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?”

Thor nodded benevolently. “Yes.”

Tony grasped the handle and put one foot on the table. “I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta.” He grunted and pulled, but the hammer didn’t move at all. He removed the loop and cleared his throat. “Be right back.”

He stormed away and came back not one minute later with an Iron Man glove from his latest model. “That’s cheating!” Maria called.

Tony put it on and grasped the handle. “And I’m Tony Stark.” He yanked on the handle, but the Asgardian weapon remained unmovable. He turned his hand and little turbines came out of the arm, acting like a rocket. Still, Mjölnir stayed still as a rock.

(Y/N) shook her head, grinning as Tony struggled with the hammer. “Give it a rest, pretty boy, you can’t lift it.”

“I can and will, sugar lips,” Tony retorted good-naturedly. He waved Rhodey over and the latter put on his own hand gear from War Machine. Watching them try and lift it together was hysterical and (Y/N) could barely breathe, she was laughing so hard.

Next up was Bruce, who climbed on the table and screamed when he couldn’t lift the hammer. Everyone stared at him in amusement and he flushed pink, embarrassed.

(Y/N) had her head on Steve’s knee when Maria tried and failed. The former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent turned to (Y/N). “Alright, you’re up.”

She lifted her head, chewing on her lip. “Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not doing it.”

Tony whined. “Come on! After Capsicle and Shakespeare in the Park, you’re the strongest one here!”

He wasn’t wrong. That’s another reason she and Steve were both so close-- they were the only enhanced beings in the tower. Her super strength and cat-like agility earned her the nickname of The Leopard, only she wasn’t experimented on. Her mom had been a chemist for S.H.I.E.L.D. when (Y/N) was young, and one day she came to work with her mom and there was an explosion that resulted from the leak of a new serum designed to replicate the one inside Steve. She and her mom both got struck. The result? She got powers and her mom was killed.

“I’m not lifting it, Stark,” she said firmly. She held his gaze. Normally, she’d sigh at the sight of those puppy dog eyes and grudgingly give into whatever task he wanted her to complete. But this… this was different.

Thor boomed, “It is not about strength, Stark. It is about worthiness.”

And I’m the least worthy person here, she said silently.

Steve petted her head for a second before patting her shoulder. “I’ll try.”

Grateful, she shuffled to the side to let him stand. She took his place on the couch next to Thor and watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up. His blonde hair glowed in the light and his arm muscles flexed as he gripped onto the hammer.

Clenching his jaw, Steve tugged on the hammer… and it moved slightly. Thrilled, (Y/N) stole a glance at Thor’s face and nearly pissed herself. Thor looked so shocked. Stifling her laughter, she watched as Steve pulled on the handle once more before letting go, holding up his hands in surrender.

Thor audibly blew out a sigh of relief, a small smile returning to his face. (Y/N) shoved his arm. “Don’t worry, no one’s coming for your throne, Thunder.”

Steve chuckled at that and sat back down next to her. Everyone looked at Nat, who smiled and took a sip of her beer. “Oh, no, no, that’s not a question I need answered.”

Tony raised his bottle. “All deference to the man who wouldn’t be king, but it’s rigged.”

Clint clapped Tony on the shoulder. “You bet your ass.”

Maria piped up, “Steve, he said a bad language word.”

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve demanded, glaring at Tony as (Y/N) buried her face in his shoulder to smother her laughter. Steve wrapped his arm around her instead of pushing her away, and when she lifted her head, she had to look away from Natasha, whose smirking expression was directed right at her and Steve. Nat has caught them curled up together on the couch before, and each time (Y/N) has told her “Steve is my best friend.” Even though I want more.

Tony leaped to continue his previous train of thought. “The handle’s imprinted. Like a security code. ‘Whosoever is carrying Thor’s fingerprints’ is I think the literal translation.”

“Yes, that’s a, uh, very, very interesting theory,” Thor replied, standing with his Asgardian ale in one hand. “I have a simpler one.” He lifted the hammer with ease and flipped it, catching it gracefully. “You are all not worthy.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a small smile on her face, Steve and Clint laughed, Rhodey and Bruce scoffed, Tony groaned a “Come on!” and Maria and Natasha exchanged looks with the now awake Dr. Cho.

Suddenly, a loud feedback whine pierced the air and everyone reacted, some stiffening and the others covering their ears. Tony frowned and pulled out his transparent pad that controlled everything in the tower.

A voice that sent chills down (Y/N)’s spine came to their attention, as well as the clanking of metal. “Worrrrrrtttttthhhhyyyy.” A tattered, roughed-up-looking version of one of Tony’s suits lurched into the living room, leaking oil. It turned to face them. It flourished its hand, and when it spoke next, its voice was clearer, more masculine, and much more sinister. “No. How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

At that, (Y/N) stiffened as dread rooted deep down in her gut. Steve let go of her and stood, his stern eyes fixed on the robot. “Stark,” he challenged without looking at the billionaire.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony called.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep.” The suit turned his head, the lights in his eyes flickering. “Or I was a dream.”

Tony tapped on the pad. “Reboot. We’ve got a buggy suit.”

The robot in front of them shielded his face. “There was this terrible noise, and I was tangled in… in…” he looked down at the wires and spare parts keeping the frame together. “...strings.”

(Y/N) and everyone else who had been sitting set down their drinks and stood, all of them tense. The suit flourished his hand again. “Had to kill the other guy… he was a good guy.”

“You killed someone?” Steve asked, serious and condescending.

Those words and his tone made (Y/N) feel a little sick, but she willed herself not to react and instead focused on the terrifying suit, which glanced at the floor. “Wasn’t my first call. But… in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” (Y/N) asked calmly.

The suit straightened up as the sound of a tape rewinding filled their ears. “I see a suit of armor around the world,” Tony’s voice came through.

Tony’s face paled. Bruce stared at him. “Ultron.”

(Y/N), Steve and Thor shot a bewildered look at Tony, while Natasha, Rhodey, and Clint all looked at Bruce for answers. Maria cocked her gun and Thor’s grip on his hammer tightened. (Y/N) clenched her fists and exchanged a look with Steve.

“In the flesh,” the suit answered. “Or, no, not yet. Not this… chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

Natasha tilted her head. “What mission?”

Ultron jutted his chin out, and if he had a real form, (Y/N) was sure he would be smiling. “Peace in our time.”

Three of Tony’s suits burst out of the wall, concrete and plaster raining down like hail. Almost everyone dove for cover. Steve flipped up the coffee table just in time for a suit to collide with it, sending both (Y/N) and Steve over the couch.

He immediately reached for her, his eyes wide. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She scrambled to her feet at the same time he did. She ducked as one of the suits flew straight over her head and watched Thor smack it with his hammer.

She hurried over to the bar, where Natasha and Bruce were hunkered down, the assassin using her gun. Maria was also firing her gun, Clint was nowhere to be seen, and Rhodey tumbled through the glass window onto the landing below.

Grabbing a long skewer, she leaped onto the back of a suit that was towering over a terrified Dr. Cho. (Y/N) tried to impale the skewer in between the helmet and neck, hoping to dismantle some of the wires, but it threw her off and into the grand piano with a great crash. The impact barely hurt her, but it certainly knocked the air out of her lungs. She tumbled onto her back, winded, and her eyes widened in fear when the suit faced her.

Unbeknownst to her, Ultron cocked its head and turned his attention toward her. “Interesting.”

Natasha and Bruce hurried up the stairs, Clint barely missed a shot from a suit, Tony hopped onto the back of another one, and the suit looming over (Y/N) got distracted by Maria.

Her heart in her throat, (Y/N) watched as Steve got slammed against the wall on the second landing. He fell to the ground hard, groaning. Thinking quickly, she twisted her head and saw his shield. It was heavy as all hell for everyone else, but for her, it was nothing.

“STEVE!” She yelled, gripping onto the shield.

Steve bolted to his feet and at the same time, (Y/N) threw it to him like a frisbee. Thor dismantled one suit, Tony took down the other, but the third remained. With a spin, Steve threw his shield and it tore the suit in half.

It was over as fast as it had started. It was quiet for a second, the only sound being everyone’s panting. (Y/N) rubbed her neck and gripped onto the wall for support.

Ultron shook his head. “That was dramatic. I’m sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through.”

Steve took a few angry steps forward and (Y/N) stiffened. Ultron continued. “You want to protect the world but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to... evolve?” He bent and picked up the destroyed head of one of the suits. “With these? These puppets.” Ultron threw down the head and surveyed the room. “There’s only one path to peace. The Avengers’ extinction.”

Thor grunted and threw Mjölnir. The hammer smashed Ultron into pieces against the wall before flying back to Thor’s hand.

The lights in Ultron’s head sparked and flickered. In a sing-songy, raspy voice, the suit murmured, “I had strings, but now I’m free… there are no strings on me…” Then, it flickered and died.

Everyone remained frozen for a second as the tower’s lights flickered. Some went out. Steve rushed over to (Y/N), his intense fury softening as he looked at her. He reached to inspect her neck. “You okay?”

She nodded, though she was far from it. Ultron’s words about them being killers and his creepy disappearance… it unsettled her. She had a feeling they hadn’t heard the last of him.

She was right. Down in Tony’s lab, they realized Ultron had taken all of the Iron Man suits, Loki’s staff, important files, and hard drives. He was in the internet now and was most likely downloading everything he could about each and every one of them. The thought of that robot looking into her file made (Y/N) feel sick. Only Nick Fury had access to her file, but it was clear that Ultron could bypass that.

They also learned that Ultron could access anything he wanted, like nuclear codes. They all figured out that J.A.R.V.I.S. was the person Ultron killed. Tony revealed that he created Ultron because of a vision the female Maximoff gave him when they seized the scepter. He saw what he called “The Endgame,” and he didn’t believe the Avengers would be enough to save the world. Steve assured him that even if they lost the war, they would do it together.

That night, when all was quiet in the tower and everyone was asleep, (Y/N) began to toss and turn. She couldn’t get Ultron out of her head. The monstrosity followed her into the depths of her nightmares and made her feel trapped. Images of him infiltrating her file terrified her to no end.

She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. It was no use. She needed water, or milk. She climbed out of bed and padded to the elevator. It took her to the kitchen.

She was a few footsteps away from the fridge when she heard it. “(Y/N).”

Ultron. She spun around, her fists out, but there was nothing there. Shocked, she lowered her fists. But then, she heard it again, much more sinister. “(Y/N).”

“What do you want from me?” She tried her best to keep her tone harsh.

“Do they know?” Ultron’s voice was quiet and menacing.

(Y/N) stood at attention. “Do they know what?”

Ultron chuckled darkly. (Y/N)’s eyes darted every which way, but she couldn’t see him, only hear him. “What I read in that file of yours… how many years has it been since the “accident”? Or should we call it what it really is?”

She felt her blood go cold. He wasn’t talking about 2012. He was talking about when she was seventeen. Her breathing got more shallow.

Ultron continued. “I’ll ask again… do… they… know?”

“Please.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as her mouth dried up. Her hands began to shake.

“It’s the reason you’re not worthy to lift the God of Thunder’s mighty hammer.” The sarcasm in his voice made her heart beat faster. “You will never be worthy. How could you be? You’re a killer. Imagine how your closest friends would react. Just think of God’s righteous man seeing you for who you really are… ”

“No.” She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “No, no, no.”

His voice, his words… it didn’t stop. Monster… murderer…

The kitchen got darker and more confined, until (Y/N) felt like she was in a cage. The words got louder and louder until she screamed…

Drenched in sweat, (Y/N) jerked upright, panting. Her hands wildly felt around her. She was in bed. It had just been a dream.

But there was a truth to it that shook her to the core, a fear that she hoped and prayed would never come true.

A knock at her door nearly made her jump out of her skin. The intruder spoke up, their voice gentle. “(Y/N), it’s Nat. You okay?”

“Fine, Nat. Just a bad dream,” the girl lied. She fought to take deep breaths and slow her racing heart. “Sorry I woke you.”

She could tell Nat was hesitating so she forced more conviction into her voice. “Seriously, I’m okay. It’s not so bad tonight. Sorry again. Just… don’t mention it to anybody, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As the only girls in the Avengers, they shared this floor together. Unfortunately, nightmares were a common occurrence for (Y/N), and every time she accidentally woke up Natasha, guilt steadily consumed her. She never once let Natasha see her pain, her terror. No one could see. She was the “strong one”, the bold and cheeky (Y/N) that everyone knew and respected. Not the pathetic, shriveling mess that screamed herself awake in the middle of the night.

(Y/N) breathed a shaky sigh of relief when she heard Natasha’s footsteps recede. She was alone. Tears stung her eyes. Always alone.

She curled up in a ball and muffled her sobs, so as not to wake Natasha again.

***

It wasn’t long until they got a tip. Ultron had teamed up with Wanda Maximoff and her twin brother Pietro and were going to make a deal with an old weapons supplier of Tony’s. The rumor was that he had just come into a large stock of vibranium that Ultron wanted to get his hands on.

Pale yellow streams of light poked through the window when (Y/N) woke up. It was the morning of the raid. Silently, she climbed out of bed and suited up. She wore a dark blue leather coat that had leopard print on the inside-- courtesy of Stark. She also wore a blue leather top, black leather pants and boots, and her hair was done in a simple french braid down her back.

She crept into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, like normal. On a regular day, she’d wake up before dawn and go for a run with Steve. Sometimes they raced each other, sometimes they just walked and talked. But last night, she’d barely gotten any sleep, and she had a feeling Steve would skip the run, too.

After she sat at the bar with her mug, Steve walked in, fiddling with one of his gloves. He was in full Captain gear, and the sight of him made (Y/N)’s heart flutter. He always looked handsome, but his uniform and cropped golden hair along with his gorgeous face and eyes always made heat rush to her cheeks. He was just as handsome as he was good and kind. She definitely didn’t deserve him.

Steve wordlessly made his own cup and sat next to her. His thumbs traced the sides of his mug. “You look tired.”

“Thanks,” (Y/N) muttered. She rubbed her temples. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well since Ultron attacked.” Steve peered at her with his signature mom expression. “You’ve been having nightmares again, haven’t you?”

(Y/N) stiffened and met his gaze. “Nat told you?”

Steve shook his head. “Last night I couldn’t sleep so I went for a run in the stairwell. When I reached your floor I heard screaming so I went to check on you, but Nat came out and stopped me. She told me you were okay and to just leave it.”

(Y/N) was quiet for a second. She felt a little guilty for thinking Nat would betray her. Steve covered her hand with his. “You know you can talk to me, right? I may not have gone through what you and Clint did during 2012, but I’ve seen my fair share of horrors.”

“You haven’t done what I’ve done, Steve,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Before she joined the Avengers, (Y/N) worked closely with Clint and Natasha at S.H.I.E.L.D. She was the only enhanced agent, and everyone fought to keep that a secret. Then, Loki arrived. He turned his scepter on her and Clint, forcing them under the control of the mind stone. It was then that Loki came to notice (Y/N)’s strength and agility. He used her as his prized second in command and ruthless assassin. A lot of the human lives lost in Stuttgart, on the S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet, and during the Battle of New York were because of her.

Steve sighed. “(Y/N), what’s it gonna take for you to forgive yourself? You were under mind control.”

She shook her head. “So was Loki, but everyone blames him.” She interlaced her fingers with his. “Controlled or not, I have the blood of innocents on my hands.”

For a moment, she imagined what it would be like to tell him about the accident, to share the overwhelming amount of guilt of murdering innocent people in 2012. Would he still be here, holding her hand? Or would he hate her as much as she hated herself? No. She couldn’t tell him. Not till she was ready.

Steve said nothing, just kept holding her hand. He changed the subject, much to her relief. “Are your nightmares about Ultron?”

“Sometimes.” (Y/N) took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t wanna face that Maximoff girl. You heard what she did to Tony.” The thought of someone infiltrating her mind again made her want to throw up.

“I won’t let her near you,” Steve said firmly. He gently placed his index finger under her chin and turned her face toward his. “Do you hear me? I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart.”

She smiled softly, transfixed by his baby blue eyes. His gaze flicked to her lips, and for a split second, he leaned forward—

“Lady (Y/N), are there any Strawberry Pop-Tarts left in the cabinet?” Thor called, trudging into the kitchen in full Asgardian armor.

Looking away from Steve, (Y/N) couldn’t ignore the disappointment washing over her. “Should still be a box on the top shelf, Thunder.” She let go of Steve’s hand, but she didn’t see that he looked crestfallen at the missed opportunity, too.

An hour later, they were all assembled on the Quinjet and headed toward the African coast. Everyone was pretty solemn during the trek, the silence only being broken by Thor’s ramblings and Tony’s jokes. But even the God of Thunder and the sass master himself were more grim than normal.

As they snuck into the salvage yard and the hatch of the Quinjet opened, (Y/N) exchanged a look with Steve. He reached for her hand, squeezed it once, and let go. She didn’t need to hear him speak to know he was telling her he’s got her back.

They ran into the building, finding the discarded bodies of workers all along the floor. Tony in his Iron Man suit led the way, followed by (Y/N), Steve, Thor, Clint, and Natasha. Bruce hung back on the Quinjet-- they didn’t need The Big Guy just yet.

They all split up inside the salvage yard just as Ultron yelled, “Don’t compare me with Stark, he’s a sickness!” He had forged a new suit for himself. The robot was now about seven feet tall with red eyes and a shiny metal body. His back was turned to them.

“Aww, Junior,” Tony called, his voice filtered through the Iron Man helmet. “You’re gonna break your old man’s heart.” He landed down with a clunk on the metal bridge, facing his creation. Thor and Steve were behind him. Natasha and Clint were sneaking in from the sides, and (Y/N) was coming in from the back. Their goal was to box the enemy in.

Ultron turned to face them, flanked by Wanda and Pietro. (Y/N) allowed herself a brief moment of wariness before putting her game face on. She was armed with batons about the length of her arm, coincidentally made of vibranium.

“If I have to,” Ultron drawled, his voice powerful and menacing.

“No one has to break anything,” Thor warned.

Ultron and the Maximoffs approached until they were a few feet away from the three Avengers. “Clearly, you’ve never made an omelet.”

Tony tilted his head. “He beat me by one second.”

(Y/N) shook her head at his almost proud comment. She delicately ducked behind the door behind the Maximoffs and Ultron, peering out at them.

“Ah, so this is funny… Mr. Stark,” Pietro remarked, his Sokovian accent thick. “It’s, what… comfortable?” He glanced down at the missiles and other weapons. “Like old times?”

“This was never my life.” Tony sounded much more serious now.

Steve took a step forward, his eyes on the twins. “You two can still walk away from this.”

Wanda cocked her head. “Oh, we will.”

Steve didn’t back down. “I know you’ve suffered.” They’d heard about the twins losing their parents and nearly dying themselves in the process.

“Ah… Captain America.” Ultron gazed at Steve condescendingly. “God’s righteous man.”

At that, (Y/N) flinched. Ultron had called him that in her nightmare. However, when she saw Steve’s familiar haunted look appear, her fear turned into anger. She withdrew one of her staffs from its sheath.

“Pretending you could live without a war,” Ultron continued. “I can’t physically throw up in my mouth, but-”

“If you believe in peace, then let us keep it,” Thor cut him off.

Ultron took a step closer. “I think you’re confusing peace with quiet.”

Tony was over it. “Yuh-huh. What’s the vibranium for?”

“I’m glad you asked that because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan,” Ultron drawled.

Suddenly, he pulled his metal fist back and the energy sucked Tony forward. Ultron blasted him back against the wall and everyone sprung into action.

Tony and Ultron went head to head as suits-- clearly designed by Ultron-- came pouring out of a doorway. Pietro was a blur as he went around, trying to attack the Avengers. His sister was more successful and managed to blast Steve back.

(Y/N) launched out from the doorway and used her strength and one of her batons to knock the head of a suit clean off its body. She leaped over the railing and landed on the bottom floor. A small grin worked its way onto her face as two suits came down to meet her, tall and strong.

She swept the legs out from under one and started to attack the other, but it dodged her heavy blow. She was grabbed by it but twisted her body, ran along the side of a crate, and flipped up and over the suit, tearing its head off.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint took down a lot of the weapons dealer’s crew, who were shooting at both the suits and the Avengers. Steve forced Pietro to the ground a little ways away from (Y/N). His eyes flicked over to her, watching her battle Ultron’s minions. He’d been keeping his eye on her, and he was relieved and proud that she was holding her own. He smiled and went back to fighting.

Then Wanda struck.

It was Thor who went down first. A quick tendril of magic infiltrated his mind and turned his eyes red.

“Thor! Status!” Steve barked.

Nothing. He saw Thor falter and freeze in place on the second level as if he was frozen in time.

Immediately, he knew it was Wanda. He spun around, eyes wide and filled with worry. Before he could warn his girl, he was knocked backward by Pietro and witnessed his worst fear with a flick of Wanda’s wrist.

(Y/N) had no idea what was happening. She was easily taking down suit after suit, barely breaking a sweat. She heard static crackling in her earpiece but figured that was just a result of everyone’s efforts.

She was about to deliver a fatal blow to the largest of Ultron’s creations when it spoke. “Were you this talented of a fighter at seventeen, Agent (L/N)?”

(Y/N) froze in her tracks, her baton raised over her head. The suit climbed back onto its feet, its eerie eyes peering straight at her. When it spoke again, its voice bore a significant resemblance to that of Ultron’s. She felt like he was directly talking to her.

“That was your first kill.” It wasn’t a question… the suit knew. Ultron had examined her file.

(Y/N) swung at the suit, but her nerves made her sloppy. The suit grabbed her baton, locking her in place. “Did you enjoy your first kill as much as you enjoyed taking the lives you took in the Battle of New York?”

With a shriek, (Y/N) twisted her wrist and tore the baton free. She attacked the suit with both batons, her viciousness masking her vulnerable state of mind. When she’d backed the suit into a corner, she finally let up on her onslaught, panting. “I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t enjoy it then, and I didn’t enjoy it in 2012. I’m not a killer. I was under mind control.”

“Not the first time. You became a murderer of your own accord.” The suit stood again, looming over her.

“Stop it.” (Y/N) shook her head violently.

The suit took a step forward. “How did it feel, watching his life slip away? How did it feel, realizing that you took a life and it was all for nothing?”

(Y/N)’s hands tightened around her batons, trembling. “Stop it.”

The suit was relentless. “How did it feel to be completely and utterly alone?”

“I SAID STOP!” (Y/N) screamed and lunged, but she never reached the suit. A flash of red was all she saw and then the room shifted.

She stumbled and dropped her batons, trying to grasp onto a crate, but she grasped onto a railing instead. It didn’t feel metallic; it was sleek and smooth. She turned her head and realized she was gripping a wooden railing.

She looked up, expecting to see the metal landing and the rest of her friends in the midst of battle. Instead, she saw a carpeted staircase with walls on either side.

Instantly, she felt cold, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on her head. She was back home, back in the memory that haunted her sleep without relief.

She could hear the thumps from where she stood, tears already springing to her eyes. “No. No,” she choked out and sprinted up the stairs.

Even though she already knew what she would find at the top of the stairs, she still screamed. There was her dad, hovering over her baby brother, beating him bloody. It was obvious that Bobby was having trouble breathing. He was practically lying in a pool of blood.

Dad hated both (Y/N) and Bobby, but once (Y/N) got her powers, he couldn’t take out his aggression on her like when her mom was alive. Instead, he turned his attention to Bobby.

“Stop, you’re gonna kill him!” (Y/N) screamed, echoing the words she spoke when she was seventeen.

“Stay out of this, freak!” Dad roared, giving her a snarl that looked like a dog baring its teeth.

As if on autopilot, (Y/N) gripped onto his shoulders and ripped him away from Bobby. Unlike how it happened all those years ago, she was forced to watch his stumble in slow motion. She stood with her jaw dropped as he tumbled down the stairs and straight into the wall, his head colliding with the plaster so hard that a loud crack split the air. Blood seeped out of the wound, and he lay perfectly still. He was dead.

(Y/N) stared at her hands in revulsion. But tears began to fall when she realized what would happen next.

She whirled around and knelt next to her baby brother, whose chest was heaving and shuddering. This. This was what she saw almost every night, the image that never seemed to escape her. “Hey, hey, Bobby, please. Please. Stay alive. Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me alone!”

Bobby’s innocent eyes met hers briefly before closing. His chest rose once more, but it did not fall. He, too, was still.

“NO!” (Y/N) screamed, scrabbling at his body.

Bobby’s body disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and (Y/N) covered her face with her hands as she cried. She was too late to save him. She tried, but in doing so she killed her dad. He was a menace, but she’d never wanted to hurt him. She never wanted to hurt anybody.

But the nightmare was far from over.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice spoke. However, instead of the normal softness and affection in his voice, this time his tone was laced with disapproval and disgust.

(Y/N) leaped to her feet and turned around, wiping her eyes. Steve stood there, his helmet off. Behind him was Tony, Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Bruce. They all looked horrified and furious.

“You just killed your dad,” Bruce said in a hushed voice.

(Y/N)’s hands began to shake. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I-I just-”

“No, no, no, you don’t get to justify what we just saw,” Tony snapped, holding up his finger.

Tears burned (Y/N)’s eyes. “I was a kid. My powers weren’t under control yet! You have to believe me!”

Natasha and Clint looked disappointed. The former Red Room assassin shook her head in disbelief. “I was trained to become a killer. You became one on your own.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” (Y/N) couldn’t stop the stream of tears as they steadily dripped down her cheeks. “I was just trying to save my brother.”

“And how’d that work out for you?” Clint scoffed. “How many more dads did you kill in 2012? No wonder Loki chose you-- you’re wicked, just like him.”

(Y/N) couldn’t breathe. She clutched her ribs, desperately forcing air into her lungs. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. Guys, please.” She looked at the people she saw as her siblings. “Clint? Nat?” They’d said they understood about 2012… but they were looking at her with pure venom.

One by one, her team turned their backs to her and walked away, disappearing into vapor. The only one who remained was Steve, whose head was lowered.

“Stevie?” (Y/N) tentatively approached him, reaching for his hand.

He ripped it away like she’d burned him and she recoiled. Steve fixed her with a cruel glare. “Now I know why you refused to pick up Thor’s hammer. You’re not worthy, and this is why.”

(Y/N) felt her heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. “Steve-”

“I thought the world of you. I wanted the best for you. I wanted a future with you.” Steve’s voice was low and dark. “Now… I don’t want anything to do with you.”

A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it and she fell to her knees. “Stevie, please!” She grabbed his hand and he pulled it away, walking away from her.

“Stevie, please, come back!” (Y/N) begged and pleaded, but she received no response.

Convulsing with sobs, she curled up on the floor, crying her heart out. Her worst fears had just been realized. The Avengers hated her as much as she hated herself for what she did, and Steve, her Captain… he hated her, too.

“It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault,” she whispered brokenly, wishing she could turn back time and reverse everything. “It wasn’t my fault.”

And that’s how Steve, the real Steve, found her.

When his vision cleared, he hauled himself up. Clint gave him the status report that he took Wanda out of the running, at least temporarily, and the archer went to look for Natasha.

Steve’s mouth went dry. Where was his girl? He reached for his earpiece, ready to command her to tell him where she was, when he heard it. The sobs.

He ran faster than he ever had in his life. It took him only a second to find her, curled up on the floor and crying.

He fell to his knees beside her, tearing off his helmet and setting down his shield. “(Y/N)... hey, hey, hey.” His hands fidgeted, longing to touch her but afraid of how she’d react. “Sweetheart, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

(Y/N) obeyed him, but her mind was still trapped in another world. Her eyes darted lazily around, the flow of tears never ending. She met his gaze and he flinched when he saw the raw brokenness in their depths. “It wasn’t my fault... it wasn’t my fault.”

Steve frowned and this time, he touched her. He ran his fingers through her hair, which had fallen out of its neat french braid. “What’s not your fault, sweetheart?”

“Please, you have to believe me,” she cried. “It wasn’t my fault, Stevie. You have to believe me. You have to believe me.”

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s okay. I believe you.” Steve’s tone was soft and gentle as he cooed to her, trying to calm her down. Frankly, he was freaked out, too, by her state and what he saw in his own vision. And he was angry. He’d been complacent. He promised her he would keep her safe, that he wouldn’t let Wanda infiltrate her mind. But he was careless, and now his girl was a wreck.

(Y/N) locked eyes with Steve, a bit of hope returning to her (e/c) depths. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Steve confirmed, forcing a smile.

Clint’s voice comes in on the earpiece. “All the tin men are down, but the Maximoffs are gone. So is Ultron. Tony said the Big Guy escaped and he’s fetching him. I think we need to head back to the jet. Tasha’s in bad shape.”

Steve pressed his own earpiece, looking down at the sweet girl who was crying silently next to him. “So is (Y/N). We’ll meet you at the jet.”

He placed his shield on his back and gathered (Y/N)’s weapons, placing them in his belt loops. He gently worked his arm into the crook of her knees and wrapped his other arm around her back. He stood, cradling her in his arms. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get outta here.”

She curled into him, and even though her tears had stopped flowing, she was still looking around blankly, like her mind was still adrift.

He carried her out of the warehouse, through the salvage yard, and onto the Quinjet. Natasha was slumped in a corner, pale and trembling. Thor looked tense and bewildered. Clint was unaffected vision-wise, but he was pacing the floor of the jet and scratching his head.

When Steve entered the jet, Clint turned and stiffened. “Oh, shit.”

Steve ignored his comment, clueing the archer into how worried Steve was. He followed closely as Steve sat down on one of the seats, arranging (Y/N) so she lay comfortably across the seats with her head in his lap.

“What did she see?” Clint asked quietly.

Steve shook his head, his eyes trained on (Y/N)’s face. His fingers gently combed through her hair, and his other hand traced light designs on her hand. “I don’t know. She wasn’t making much sense. She kept saying something wasn’t her fault. I’ve never seen her like this.”

Clint’s gaze was soft as he looked at her. “I was with her when Loki’s spell lifted. She barely spoke after.” He glanced at Steve. “Actually, it was you who got through to her. You got her to talk again. What Loki’s magic made her do… it damaged her. Being mind-controlled once is no joke, but twice?” He sighed. “Poor kid.” He stood and walked over to the pilot’s seat.

Steve’s heart was heavy, but at the same time filled with warmth. Had he really been the one to help (Y/N) come back to herself after 2012? As he gazed down at her, he decided it would be his job to bring her back this time, too.

So he kept stroking her hair, whispering to her. “(Y/N). Come back to me, sweetheart. It’s me, Stevie. If anyone can fight back against the power of that vision, it’s you. You’re strong, so strong. Stronger than all of us. I’m here. Your family’s all here. Just come back. I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go. I promise. You’re safe with me.”

Though (Y/N) didn’t respond, her eyes flicked to meet his gaze and he could’ve sworn he saw a sparkle of recognition return to her eyes. Encouraged, Steve kept talking.

He lost himself in his quiet affirmations and gentle words to her, so much so that he didn’t notice Thor, Clint, and even Natasha watching. Thor and Clint smiled slightly, and Natasha, as shaken as she was, felt emotional watching the tender display. It was really obvious to everyone except Steve and (Y/N) that they had fallen for each other.

The three of them were so moved that when Tony and Bruce returned, Clint went out to meet them and warned them to keep their voices down and not make any comments-- with that bit being directed at Tony-- about what they were about to see.

All Tony said when they walked onto the jet and saw Steve with (Y/N) cradled on his lap was a grumbled, “Finally.”

***

They decided that it was too dangerous to return to the Tower. Ultron was everywhere, and after the whole Hulk incident they needed to lie low. Clint guided the jet toward a location he refused to tell the others about, and spoke quietly with Tony. They were the only two who hadn’t been hit with a vision at the salvage yard.

Thor was acting a little gruffer than normal, Natasha was quiet, and Bruce was weary, but the one they were really worried about was (Y/N). For the entirety of the Quinjet ride, her head rested on Steve’s thigh as she slowly came back to reality. It was Steve’s gentle touches and grounding words that eventually brought her back. But even then, she was uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. “Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t slip back into your head.”

She nodded once, her face lined with sadness and a hint of fear. It made Steve’s heart ache. He kept his blue eyes locked with her (e/c) ones. “Do you remember Clint and Natasha? They’re like your brother and sister. We’re your family. You’re safe with us.”

He kept having to repeat these statements in order to keep her present. He did so without complaint and with a heart full of affection and concern for his girl.

At the mention of Clint and Natasha, the fear grew on her face and Steve moved his hand from her hair to her face. He gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears. “We’re not gonna hurt you. We all love you. I-” He swallowed. “… care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re safe with us, okay?”

“Okay, Stevie.” Her voice was small and quiet, reminding Steve of his mom after getting her ass handed to her by his dad. He hated it, and wanted nothing more for (Y/N)’s smile to return. So, he kept forcing a smile for her sake and continued anchoring her with his words and touches.

After a few hours, Clint landed the jet next to a farmhouse. Steve stood and held out his hands to (Y/N). “Can you stand for me, pretty girl?”

She nodded shakily and stood, taking his hands. He wrapped his arm around her protectively. The other Avengers watched with a mixture of worry and awe on their faces.

He and (Y/N) trailed behind as Clint helped Natasha walk and led Bruce, Tony, and Thor inside the house. When Clint’s pregnant wife appeared, who the Avengers had no idea about (except for Natasha), they all were stunned. Laura and Natasha caught up and Clint introduced them all to his kids and explained why he kept their location a secret.

(Y/N) tried to smile and hesitantly shook Laura’s hand. The yelling of the kids and the chatter of the others made her tense up. Steve rubbed her arms and made eye-contact with Clint.

Having seen (Y/N) go through something like this once before, Clint strode over to them and kept his voice low. “Tasha’s gonna sleep with Laura. Me, Tony, Thor, and Bruce will sleep in the living room. You two can take the guest room.”

(Y/N) was too in her head to fully process what he said, but Steve’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to question why he and (Y/N) should share a room and protest that it wasn’t appropriate, but Clint rolled his eyes. “Just take the damn room. Go. You’ll thank me later.”

Wordlessly, Steve took (Y/N)’s hand and-- after hearing Clint’s directions-- guided her upstairs. He entered a small but quaint room and shut the door. (Y/N) silently sat on the bed, her eyes on her hands.

Steve exhaled deeply. He walked to her and crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. She met his gaze, her expression clouded. Steve squeezed her hands lightly. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What did you see? I want to help you.”

“You won’t once I tell you,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

Steve’s tone was gentle but firm. “Try me.”

(Y/N) took a shaky breath. “Did… did I ever tell you how young I was when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Steve frowned, concentrating. “You said you were seventeen. You were one of their youngest recruits.”

(Y/N)’s hands fidgeted in his grip. “Did I say why I joined?”

“You said you didn’t want to go to college, that you wanted to work there to honor your mother.” Steve sounded puzzled.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “That-that was-um… it wasn’t the whole truth.”

Steve looked at her encouragingly, and that just made it harder for (Y/N). She swallowed. “After I-uh… after I got my powers and my mom died, my dad… he became more violent. He was violent before, but losing Mom just… it just made him snap. He knew he couldn’t hurt me anymore, so he started taking it out on my baby brother. He was only twelve.”

“Go on.” Steve’s eyes were narrowed, but he made an effort to keep his voice soft.

The stinging tears made it difficult for her to see. “One-one day I heard my dad beating my brother, and when I found them, my brother was barely breathing. I yelled at my dad to stop, but he wouldn’t listen.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, one by one, and Steve let go of one of her hands to brush them away. “I eventually grabbed his shirt and shoved him away, but… but I-I shoved him toward the stairs.”

Steve closed his eyes and (Y/N) shook her head. “I couldn’t revive him. The fall killed him. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes opened and he stared at her. “(Y/N), that was an accident. You didn’t kill him.”

“Stevie, I was too strong for him,” (Y/N) cried. “I should’ve-”

“Stop, stop, stop.” Steve cupped her face. “Sweetheart, you were a kid. Your powers weren’t under control yet. You didn’t mean to hurt your dad; you were just trying to save your brother.” And that monster doesn’t deserve your guilt and shame, he added silently.

(Y/N) sobbed once and Steve moved to sit next to her, pulling her onto his lap and encasing her in his arms. She cried into his shirt, staining it with her tears.

They sat like that for a minute, and he quietly shushed her and whispered words of reassurance. Once her sobs had died down, she pulled back a bit to look at him. “You… you believe me?”

“Of course I do.” His tone was matter-of-fact. Steve cupped her face again. “What happened to your brother?”

(Y/N) shuddered. “He broke a rib and it punctured his lung. I tried to give him CPR… but he was already gone. He’d lost too much blood.” The streams of tears continued to pour down her cheeks. “He was twelve, Stevie.”

Steve’s soul hurt for her, for that little boy he’d never gotten the chance to meet. He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs and kissed her forehead before pressing against it with his own. “I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N)’s small hands grasped onto his wrists as if they were her lifeline. “After that, I found Fury. He’s the only one who knows the whole story… other than you.” Her tone wobbled. “I asked him to lock me up. He gave me a job instead. He took a chance on me.”

Steve pulled her to him and his nose brushed her ear as (Y/N) continued to shake. “I’d managed to redeem myself in my mind. But then 2012 happened. When I realized what I’d done, what I’d been made to do… I was back in that house, with blood on my hands.” She gave a broken laugh. “It’s ironic, really. The girl with super-human strength and agility is weak in the head. She breaks everything she touches. She makes a fucking mess wherever she goes.”

“Stop, stop,” Steve pleaded, pulling back. “You’re strong, (Y/N). So strong. You’re stronger than me, that’s for damn sure, both mentally and in your heart. You don’t break everything you touch; you bring light to the darkest places. You gave a lost super-soldier a reason to smile again, inspired him to be the best hero he could be, which would never be half as good as you. When you make a mess, you own up to it. But you’ve never once willingly put someone in harm’s way. You’ve never once willingly allowed an innocent person to suffer. You love everyone around you with your whole heart.” Steve’s own eyes were brimming with tears now. “Everyone but yourself.”

(Y/N) stared at him. Steve took her hands in his and pressed kiss after kiss to her hands. “You’re a good person. It hurts me to hear you talk like you’re not.” He made eye-contact with her. “I have a feeling I know what you saw in that vision. You saw your dad and brother dying, right?”

“That’s… that’s not all.” Dare she speak the cursed words aloud? If she did… would that make it real? She covered her mouth briefly, looking anywhere but Steve. “You and the others hated me for what I did. You looked at me with pure disappointment. You-you told me… you told me that-that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

If it was even possible, Steve’s heart broke even further. “Oh, sweetheart.” He lifted her chin with his index finger, gently forcing her to look at him. A tear rolled down his cheek. “I could never hate you for what happened. Neither could the others. I’m sure if they found out, they’d all feel nothing but compassion for you. What happened? It wasn’t your fault. We’d never blame you. We all love you.” He moved his hand up to run the backs of his fingers against her cheekbone. She unconsciously leaned into his touch. Steve’s tone held sincerity when he said, “I love you.”

(Y/N)’s breath got caught in her throat. The flow of tears slowed, and Steve noticed. A small, watery smile tugged at his lips. “I love you, sweetheart. Have for a while now.” He shook his head. “And you don’t have to say it back—”

(Y/N) cut him off with a gentle whisper. “But I want to.” She wiped her cheeks and moved to cup his handsome face in her little hands. “I love you, Stevie.”

Steve gazed at her with softness and adoration. He leaned forward and kissed her chastely. The kiss was delicate, but for both of them it felt as if sparks were flying. When he pulled away, (Y/N) pouted and Steve laughed. He rubbed his nose against hers. “Trust me, sweetheart, when you’re feeling better, I’ll give you all the kisses you want. But I don’t wanna take advantage.”

(Y/N)’s heart fluttered. Whether it was because he was from the 40s, or because he was just a true gentleman, he was the most considerate man she’d ever met.

She scrubbed her face, stifling a yawn as she did so. Steve noticed. “I think someone’s tired. Lie down.”

She could hear a tiny bit of his Captain voice as he spoke, and that made her smile. She was exhausted, it was true. Barely sleeping for the past couple weeks on top of the emotional baggage of today was more than draining.

She climbed under the covers of the queen-sized bed, and before she could ask Steve to stay, he shuffled over to her. “Scoot over, big guy coming through.”

(Y/N) laughed softly and did as he asked. Pretty soon, her back was against his chest and his big arms were encircled around her. He sighed, content.

She felt herself falling asleep already, but curiosity nagged at her. “What did you see in your vision?”

Steve sighed again, but this time, she could practically hear the resignation in it. “I saw myself going back to the 40s and dancing with Peggy.”

A bolt of jealousy and unease struck her. “Why did Wanda show you that?”

Steve buried his face in her hair, lightly brushing his lips against her ear and making her shiver. “Because she wanted to show us all our biggest fear.”

The unease faded to confusion. “Why was dancing with Peggy your biggest fear?”

“Because she wasn’t you,” Steve said simply. She felt his embrace get a little tighter. “I still care deeply for Peggy, and I try to visit her as much as I can, but I stopped dreaming about a life where I had been with her once I realized my dreams were now about you. I stopped loving her the minute I fell in love with you. Dancing with her… it was a picture of the life I don’t want anymore. It was empty and lifeless because you were gone. You’re my best girl.”

Tears sprung to (Y/N)’s eyes once more. He seemed to sense this and moved his lips from her ear to her temple. He kissed her hair and brushed his nose along her cheekbone. “Let’s go to sleep.”

(Y/N) nodded, and when she spoke she was half teasing, half serious. “Dream of me?”

Steve chuckled. “Always, pretty girl.”

They fell asleep minutes later, the super-soldier holding his girl securely to his chest. They didn’t hear the door open a crack, nor did they see Natasha peek her head in.

She smiled softly when she saw them and shut the door. She turned to face Tony, Clint, Thor, and Bruce, who all eagerly awaited the report.

“They fell asleep cuddling in the bed.” Natasha grinned at Clint. “They finally exchanged their “I love you”s.

Clint had a huge smile on his face, and he turned to Tony and held out his hand. Tony grumbled and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “You rigged it by giving them the same room.”

“Hey, I did that so he could comfort her in private.” Clint smirked and pocketed the money. “Them finally admitting their feelings was just an added bonus.”

Bruce glanced at Tony. “So if Clint betted they’d admit their feelings, what did you bet?”

“That the Leopard and Capsicle would break the bed,” Tony muttered nonchalantly.

Natasha thumped him and Bruce facepalmed himself. Thor beamed. “No, no. The Captain is far too chivalrous for that. The courting ritual back in Asgard--”

“We can hear you guys,” Steve called, his tone a mixture of tiredness and amusement.

Natasha grabbed the boys and shoved them away from the door. She apologized to Steve and (Y/N) and walked away, muttering, “I swear, men are idiots.”

***

Thanks for reading!!!

[lovingyoulovinme]

✶ charles leclerc x reader ✶

2019

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July 14, 2019

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2020

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January 2, 2020

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⤥ username they are never giving up

username this is such pr

username her being friends with danny lando and pierre is my favorite thing ever

April 8, 2020

2021

charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly and 784,478 others

charles_leclerc Happy days before the start of the season

View all 4,698 comments

yourinstagram put a shirt on

username best couple in the world

lilymhe Who is the beautiful girl in the third slide?

⤥ charles_leclerc she's taken

yourinstagram that could change

username everyone being in love with y/n is so cute

username please never break up

pierregasly No photo of me?

⤥ username pierre third-wheeling them 24/7 😭

username her smile!!! 👼👼👼

February 6, 2021

deuxmoi via instagram

September 20, 2021

2022

yourinstagram

Liked by danielricciardo and 248,736 others

yourinstagram this must be the place 💒

View all 3,831 comments

username THE ENGAGEMENT RUMORS LOOKING REAL TRUE RN

danielricciardo 🤭

username wedding venue???? 🥹

charles_leclerc Je veux passer ma vie avec toi ❤️ (I want to spend my life with you)

⤥ yourinstagram lucky for you you're stuck with me

username THEY ARE SOOOOOOO

username third slide is so precious :(

pierregasly Can i be the **** ***

⤥ username BEST MAN???

arthur_leclerc No

lorenzotl No

username obsessed with the way they never confirmed the engagement rumors but are doing nothing to stop them

username i love them so much im sobbing

username it feels like just yesterday charles was accidentally confirming their relationship on twitch and now they're getting MARRIED

January 18, 2022

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourinstagram and 1,475,863 others

charles_leclerc Best day of my life forever. 👰‍♀️🤵🖤

View all 8,936 comments

username CRYING SO BADDDDDD

yourinstagram 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I LOVE U

⤥ charles_leclerc Love you more Mrs. Leclerc 🥰

username both of her dresses were so gorgeous oh my god

danielricciardo Party of the year

scuderiaferrari Congratulations to our two favorite people ❤️

username they look so unbelievable happy :( they deserve the world

lilymhe most beautiful bride!!!!!! and charles

⤥ yourinstagram sad you didn't stand up to object...

username this all happened because of alpine let's be honest

⤥ alpinef1team We got a thank you card in the mail 😊

username 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username they are soulmates im sure of it

pierregasly 🥂😛❤️‍🔥

username they got married on the 17th...exactly 3 years after they met 🥺

arthur_leclerc So happy ❤️

July 20, 2022

[cellophaine]

Chapter I: SERVE

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Word Count: 2377.

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: The first chapter is here!! I'm so excited to finally release this as this idea formed in my head a while ago and it's been itching to take shape. I hope you will enjoy this chapter and stay for the messiness of it all!

GIF Source: @harcive

2021. San Francisco.

Your bedroom, 2 AM. Outside, the storm raged. The whistling notes of winds pried their way inside through the seams of the window. You lay on your side, watching the maidenhair tree as its leaves and branches were torn in different directions, but the thick trunk barely wavered. The constant pattering of rain running along the window soothed your troubling mind.

Another sleepless night.

It was also raining like this on the day that you met him. Perhaps it was nostalgia, maybe it was your indulgence of self-loathe, either way, you often recalled that day over the years, long after it was over, thinking about how cruel fate was even though you didn’t believe in it. You often thought about how had you listened to the weather forecast on that portent day, there wouldn’t be so many sleepless nights.

2006. Stanford University.

The angry and ruthless storm swept over the campus’ ground, painting a murky varnish over the courtyard. You didn’t bring an umbrella. The cafeteria was almost empty with the exception of some other unfortunate souls like yours. Your messenger bag wouldn’t survive in this rain with its metal clasps broken and glued together, its nylon strap peeling off along the edge, and its canvas surface thinning.

You chose a seat by the big bay window overlooking the courtyard. The rain railed on the glass panels, loud and blurred together in a clashing harmony. The perfect background for your wandering thoughts while you stared out the window. You had a shift at the coffee shop on Friday, then the weekend to yourself. The library’s copy of Mrs. Dalloway was due the following Friday, but you didn’t need that much time. You could finish it this weekend. You should return your mom’s missed call and your dad’s message. Probably more of what you didn’t want to hear, but you should respond nonetheless.

Out of the peripheral of your vision, a moving silhouette headed in your direction. You ignored it until they stopped at your table, far enough that you couldn’t touch them if you reached out, but close enough to make your head turn. Your eyes caught onto the white shirt before skipping along the length of the torso before reaching the face. You were taken aback by his appearance, and most of all, his piercing eyes on you.

“Hi. May I sit here?”

He had a half smile that softened the outer corners of his eyes. Blond locks swept all over, framing his face in tousled waves. A sharp jaw that your eyes couldn’t help but trace along. He was cute. There was an easy air about him that almost disarmed the guard you placed when it came to strangers. Almost.

Your eyes quickly flitted around the nearly empty cafeteria involuntarily as if to signal that there were other seats he could take. But you nodded regardless with a thinly veiled hesitance and watched as he took his seat across the table. You wondered what he wanted from you.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

You bobbed your head in agreement.

“Yeah. I should’ve brought an umbrella.”

“Me too. It doesn’t rain very often so I thought today would be one of those days, you know? Should’ve listened to the forecast.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned your head towards the window again. He moved a little in his seat as if he was trying to pull at your attention physically.

“I saw you sitting alone from over there, and uh … I thought you might want some company.”

Your eyes squinted at that and watched as he reached over the table.

“My name’s Art. Art Donaldson.”

You shook his hand and told him your name. His name stirred at a memory in the back of your mind.

“I know you. I mean, I’ve heard of you.”

His face lit up ever so slightly at that.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Your name is mentioned pretty often, especially whenever tennis comes up. Some people in my class seem to be fans of yours.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and light.

“What about you? Are you a fan of me?”

You pretended to think about it and shook your head.

“Ouch.”

You held up a hand in defence.

“Hey. I’m just not a sports person.”

“That’s fair. We’re pretty annoying anyway.”

You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You could see the way his smile dropped, the way his body went still, and guilt trickled in rapidly until it was a big, sweeping wave.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“So you were thinking it?”

“Yes, I mean, no, but kinda?"

Art only stared at you. You straightened in your seat.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It just came out, I honestly don’t mean anything by it. My roommates said that I’m very sarcastic and if you don’t know me you might think I’m very mean but honestly I really don’t mean it I’m so so sorry …”

You trailed off as Art’s smile grew until his body shook with the sound of his chuckle. It was you that stared now. Your heart was pounding, nerves pulled tight across all directions, unsure of where they were heading.

"Uh …"

Your voice wavered, and you cleared your throat. Art waved a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. No offence taken.”

The joy he seemed to get from your momentary despair cast his face in an endearing light. You found yourself staring at the way his eyes crinkled, the way his lips quirked up, one side higher than the other.

“Still. It was rude of me.”

Art looked at your rueful expression, and you could almost tell the moment his light bulb went on.

“You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“What?”

He leaned forward. He was now halfway over the small table.

“To fix my broken ego. You’ve just destroyed it, after all.”

You fixed your eyes on his and met him in the middle, turning the distance into proximity.

“You know what they say about having a fragile ego?”

"What do they say?"

"Hm, I thought you knew already."

Art held your gaze for a long moment, searching for your tell. You couldn't hold the grin back, and he mirrored you, understanding your sarcastic nature a little more now. You broke away first and stood up, eyes roaming around the cafeteria and eventually landed on the food counter. You turned to look at Art, jerking your chin towards the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go. Whatever you want, on me.”

Art chose funnel cake fries with vanilla ice cream. You could feel his eyes on you as you smoothed out the slightly crumbled bills, counted the change and gave it to the woman behind the counter. His gaze made you feel a little insecure. You kept your eyes on the woman as you thanked her.

“Anything on it?”

She held up the paper box. Art turned to you and asked if you wanted anything. You said caramel sauce absent-mindedly as you put your wallet back in your pocket. After a generous drizzle, she passed the box to Art, along with two spoons.

“Wait, it’s your treat. Why did you ask me what I wanted on it?”

He shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

“I thought we could share.”

You returned to the table. The rain had calmed down, reduced to a light shower. It took some convincing from Art as you refused to have some as it was your treat for him, but eventually, you shared the first few bites in silence. You tried not to pay too much attention to his lips every time he licked the spoon when Art broke the voiceless air and asked about your major. English, you said, as your parents dismissed and scorned. Despite their disapproval and incessant attempts to convince you otherwise, you still wanted to be a published author, dreaming of seeing your name on the shelves one day.

“The scholarship helped a lot. If it wasn’t for it, my parents would have forced me to stay home and attend the community college there.”

“I'm guessing you didn't want that?”

“Not at all. And don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with the college back home, but …"

You considered our next words properly. A cold feeling crept up your spine, but you found the words that you'd never had the courage to say out loud before tumbling out.

"I just don’t want to be stuck there, you know? In the same place that I grew up in for years and years on end with my parents, and it's …”

You met Art's eyes to find that he was staring at you. All of a sudden, the cold became unbearable, and you felt so uneasy that you felt an instinctual urge to physically press your lips together to prevent anything else from slipping out. The baggage was too much for someone you met not even an hour ago. You cleared your throat.

“Anyway, what about you? Are you going to be a pro tennis player?”

Art's brows slightly furrowed, and he took a moment before responding. He seemed to sense your discomfort, but he let it go. You felt the weight eased off your stomach, feeling grateful that Art chose not to pursue the topic further.

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Is it something you've always wanted to do?"

He thought about it for a brief moment.

"I … think so. It's something I've known for a long time, and very well."

You nodded, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"Okay, maybe not as well as my friend Patrick."

"Tell me about him."

The funnel fry stopped just before it reached Art's mouth.

"Why? Are you interested in him?"

“Sure am. I’m the kind of girl that needs more information on a guy before expressing my interest. So tell me."

A small frown formed on his lips. His hand made a slow descent to the table, the fry forgotten. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you felt bad for your harmless joke. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Art. I'm joking."

He took your words in, and an amused smile slowly spread across his lips. With the other unoccupied hand, he rubbed on his ear, which drew your attention to it as it turned into a faint shade of pink. He cleared his throat, and you pulled your hand away.

"Uh– okay! So … Patrick."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. He told you about the Mark Rebellato Academy, how Patrick was his roommate and became his best friend, how they played tennis together and made …

"Fire and Ice?"

Art nodded.

"Who's who?"

"He's Fire, and I'm Ice."

"So when you're together, what do you make? Warm water?"

"Okay, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound very exciting. But we're good, I promise."

You put the spoon down, decided that you were done with the dessert and let Art finish the rest.

"When can I see you guys play together?"

Art thought about it for a moment.

"I don't think it'll happen soon. He's trying to pro, and he's busy with a tour right now."

"I see."

The rain had ceased to light mist, which made Art's silence became palpable.

"Do you miss him?"

"I– I'm happy for him, I am. He's doing exactly what he has always wanted to do, which is becoming a pro and not having to concern himself with a degree, but …"

"You wish he was here, playing tennis with you. Like how you used to."

Art nodded. You felt the air become heavier, so you switched it up.

"What about your family? They must come to your game to support you?"

Art smiled, but his voice was tinged with a sadness that made you regret even asking.

"My grandma asks me about every game I've ever played. And, uh … my parents enrolled me in Mark Rebellato, but they don't really come to my games. They don't … ask me about them, either."

The silence thickened like honey, but it wasn't confining. A tangible thread of mutual understanding wrapped around you, binding you together across the small table. You couldn't bring yourself to say something, anything, but when your eyes locked, the kindness in his eyes assured you that you didn't have to.

You blinked and allowed the quiet moment to slip through your fingers.

"I have a question for you."

He gestured for you to go ahead.

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

You arched a brow.

“You know what I'm talking about. There are other girls in there. Why did you choose me?”

“Just wanted to introduce myself to the prettiest girl here.”

You rolled your eyes at his smirk. He picked up the last funnel fry and popped it into his mouth.

“Do you really use that line on every girl you've met? Has it ever worked?”

“No, not every girl. And, you tell me.”

You shook your head, trying to fend off the inevitable smile that tugged on a corner of your lips.

“It’s not working.”

You said before standing up. Outside, the rain had cleared for the sun to poke through. Taking the empty box and cutlery, you put everything in the trash bin nearby while Art was still sitting.

“I guess I’ll have to get your phone number.”

You returned to the table, where Art looked up at you with that playful look.

"Why?"

"So I can prove myself to you."

“There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll see you again around the campus anyway.”

You picked up your bag, signifying the end of your talk. Art sprung off the seat as if it was on fire.

"But–"

You placed a hand on his shoulder and applied the tiniest bit of pressure.

“This has been enjoyable, really. I’ll see you around, Art.”

You offered him a smile before letting your hand drop. You didn’t look back once when you walked away despite the urge to have a final good look of him. Art gathered his bag, his hand reached inside and grasped the umbrella lying amongst the notebooks, his eyes followed you until you disappeared.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[sageworld]

Christmas Kids • Rafe Cameron. (part I)

“the christmas kids were nothing but a gift,

and love is a tower where all of us can live.”

he was really sweet in the beginning but then, something changed.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: unprotected sex (p in v), oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, use of the word “daddy”, underage drinking

christmas kids masterlist; here

06/03/2021

rafe cameron. he was your everything, your high school sweetheart, your first, the love of your life & now your fiancé. your skin was glowing as you all toasted your champagne glasses.

“to my soon to be wife.” rafe cheered as you all clinked glasses. everything was perfect, your closest friends and family all in attendance. rafe had rented out the country clubs haul as a surprise to you. you smiled as you took a sip from your glass.

you danced the night away, loving the attention you were getting, your friends gushing to you about how you found the perfect man, the congratulations from his friends and of course the attention from rafe.

“you look beautiful tonight.” rafe compliments as you two slow dance together. you don’t respond, just cradle you face into his neck giving a soft kiss.

“i can’t believe we’re engaged.” you’re still in a small shock, you knew it was coming but certainly not tonight. “i know but here we are kitty.” kitty, that was a nickname rafe had given you way back from high school that had just stuck for whatever reason.

you and rafe had met your freshman year, he was a junior. you just caught his eye and he caught yours, instantly becoming inseparable. now rafe was nearing 21 while you were 18, fresh out of high school.

you smiled down at your ring , you knew rafe’s family had money to burn but you couldn’t help but wonder how much they must’ve spent on your ring that your friends had all complimented.

you continue to cradle your face in his neck, peppering soft open mouthed kisses. “such a darling girl.” rafe compliments you, hands going down to your lower back.

it’s all but 15 minutes later, you find yourself sneaking into the empty men’s bathroom with rafe. the two urinals to the left of the room and one stall directly across.

you moan into the kiss as rafe locks the stall door behind you, you both so needy for eachother as his hands explore your body while your hands hold his face.

“i fucking love you.” rafe groans “i love you too.” yours hands fall from his face and begin to unbuckle his pants. he smiles as you crouch down on your heels, not letting your knees touch the dirty floor. “we have to be quick.” rafe reminds, anyone could walk in at any second or people will realize the couple of the hour is missing.

“hasn’t stopped us before.” you’re mischievousness all said in the smirk on your face as you pull down his pants and boxers. “god, this is the reason why i chose you.” rafe taunts jokingly. “and this-.” you grab the base of his thick cock. “is why i said yes.” you giggle before putting the tip in your mouth, suckling on it.

you moan around him as you take him as deep as you can, helping yourself by jerking him off with one hand while using the other to reach into your panties and rub your clit.

“you are so fucking sexy.” rafe groans, mouth open as he looks down at you, taking on hand to the back of you head to guide you.

if anyone walked in the sounds alone would give it away, your gags, the sound of saliva dripping out of your mouth: the sound of your throat being completely abused by rafe.

“take ‘em out for me, baby.” rafe groans before taking his free hand to roughly pull down the spaghetti straps that belong to your baby pink mini dress. he grabs and pulls at the newly freed flesh, hyper fixating on your nipple, pulling at it.

“fuuuck.” rafe brings his finger up to his mouth, licking it before returning it back to your nipple, rubbing it. the pleasure is so intense between that and you fingering your self. “i’d love to cum all over this pretty face but id rather do it in your little pussy, baby.” rafe says, stopping you and pulling you up to stand at attention.

you bite your lip, smile on your rafe as he turns you around, bending you over and pulling your panties down to your ankles. “ready?” rafe asks & smacks your ass when you shake it as a way to say yes.

you were grateful for your heels giving you the extra height, knowing you guys wouldn’t have been able to do this without it.

you both gasp as he enters you, and his thrusts aren’t kind. they’re rough, demanding nothing but your guys’ highs as he has one death grip on your hip and one in your hair.

“feel good baby?” rafe taunts, seeing you already go dumb on his dick. “does my baby like her daddy’s dick?”

“feels… feels sooo…feels sooo good.” you moan out. “mmm, i bet. you know what would make it feel even better kitty,?” “hmmm?” you hum in response. “if you touched yourself, touch your pretty pussy baby.”

you do as instructed, rubbing to match his fast pace. “good girl.” rafe smiles bending over so your backs on his stomach. “now use your other hand and play with those titties baby.”

the view rafe’s getting must’ve given him enough to send him over, pounding into you as fast as he possibly can.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum kitty.” rafe groans “gonna fill up this pretty pussy.

“m-mee-ahh!” you squeak as you tried to warn rafe. he groans as he fills your little warm squirts coming up as he fills you up with his cum. “t-oo, me too.” you finish your sentence a bit late.

you both moan as he pulls his now semi hard dick out slowly, watching all the fluids dribble down your legs. “whoops.” rafe smiles as you giggle, pinching your nipple. “my precious kitty.” kissing the back of your head.

you two stumble and rush to gather back to a somewhat presentable state. “let me see baby” rafe says turning you to face him, fixing the hair on the side of your face that we’re once so neatly placed. “pretty as ever.” he smiles, peppering a kiss to your forehead. “let’s get going and hope they didn’t notice we were gone for too long.” he grabs your hand to direct you out the stall.

the rest of the night went smooth. aside from the comments topper and kelce made on yours and rafe’s disappearance.

you giggle as rafe carry’s you braid style over the threshold of your guys’ house. it wasn’t long ago the two of you decided it was fitting time to move in, considering rafe was making a generous and steady income from the family company.

it was truly a lovely home, one you intended to stay in forever. the high ceilings, the foyer with the long descending staircase, the professional kitchen with three ovens, the pool and jacuzzi, the list went on and on.

you knew lots of girls would kill for your life, 18 & you’re future as a housewife was practically ensured with the million dollar estate and new engagement. a lot of girls were envious, something they’d always been to you and that had only grew more once you and rafe had started dating years ago.

bzz bzzz bzzz

rafe’s phone buzzed as he laid you down on your leather couch. as he checked you saw the look in his eye. the look he’d worn on his face more than a few times. the look of worry that you didn’t smell another woman’s perfume on him, the look that he wore praying you didn’t notice the red lipstick on his collar when he got home late from work he’d tell you.

he quickly declined the call, putting his phone face down on the glass table. “who’s that?” you raise up on your elbows. “just top, he probably wants to know if i’m gonna go to the club tomorrow.” he smiles laying down on top of you. “well, why didn’t you answer?” you lay back down. “well, excuse me mrs.cameron for wanting time with my new wife.” “fiancé.” you correct, feeling your mood souring.

“my kitty, no attitude tonight. let’s celebrate us, we can do whatever you want. relax, watch a movie, cuddle…go in the jacuzzi.” rafe offers smiling knowing you never turn down the jacuzzi.

you ponder, you did just get a whole haul worth of bikinis & you had a red one you’d been dying to wear for him. “hmm fine, let me go get changed.”

you dress & adjust the straps to the barley there bikini that fit more like sting on your hips. you make your way down stairs and out of the house. you smile in the dark lighting. rafe already in the spa, a bottle of champagne opened & two glasses still bubbling.

“come in kitty.” he stands, holding your hand as you go up the four steps and into the hot water. “you know i’ll never love anyone else as much as i love you right?” rafe mumbles into your neck as he pulls you into his lap. “i know, rafey. i love you too.” you smile, pecking his lips.

rafe hands you a glass before taking the other in his own. “to our new life.” he clinks your glasses.

“to our new life.”

-

after a late delivery chapter one is up, feed back is always welcomed and appreciated!

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

does sympathy for hatred work into your belief? loaded question, i'm sorry. i know you have enough empathy to go around. it was an unkind question with unkind feelings behind it. i hurt. but i don't know what i'm are supposed to do with pedo-rapists that will never stop haunting us. daddy's in prison for the next 15 years and mommy wishes i had died. i feel so lonely. feel like my terror makes me a centrist or something. i feel so stupid.

You are not stupid, nor are you wrong for feeling how you feel. It is not a failure of any kind to feel the ways that you do. In fact, feeling these things is part of the process, at least within my process.

I don't think where I have currently landed as it comes to forgiveness is above or below anyone else. It's not a moral question whatsoever. In many ways, it's fueled by pure pragmatism and self-interest. It's the only way I personally have found to move forward with my life. And to me, that says nothing about anyone else or their path. It is only what I have found has helped me.

I will speak on my story because that is all I can speak on--this is not an attempt to 'diagnose' you or where you are at within your process; when I say 'I,' I authentically mean I, myself.

For a long time I was not ready to move forward. I was angry. I had been hurt badly by so many, in ways that were not merely the unavoidable forms of harm that being a human in relationship with other humans brings about. And I was not ready to let that go.

That is a neutral fact. Healing is not an imperative, and suffering is part of the process. It was not wrong for me to be angry, or to feel hate for those who hurt me, or to not be ready to move beyond those experiences. If i still felt that way today, or in a decade, or till the end of my life, it would not be wrong. If I died still with those feelings, there would be no shame in that.

For a very long time, I truly did not believe there was any other option. Perhaps there were no other options for me with the spot I was at in life, maybe there was no other way it could have been. This acceptance of what 'was' is useful in looking back, but not helpful for projecting onto the future. For a long time, I did project this fatalism into the future. I believed the story of my life was already told, and I just had to watch. But slowly, over the course of a number of years, my conviction in that belief weakened and alongside it, something else sprouted.

I met Anat at a partial hospitalization program for my eating disorder in 2021. She was early 30s. We were the only two smokers in the group, so we got to know each other quickly and well. She kicked dope when she was about my age at the time and had been sober ever since.

I used for a lot of reasons, to boil it down to some singular, cohesive, narratively-fulfilling motivation neglects the truth of the matter.

I used because drugs are fun, and I like them. I used because they passed the time. I used because I felt unfulfilled and they were a distraction. And I used because all I wanted was to not exist anymore so I could stop hurting, and getting fucked up felt easier than killing myself.

Before meeting Anat, I genuinely did not believe that recovery--by which I mean more than simple abstinence--was possible for me. Of course, cognitively, I knew there were addicts who stopped, stayed stopped, and got better, but I didn't know any, or at least none like me. And Anat was like me, I could tell. I wanted to stop, I had every reason to stop, I faced consequence after consequence for not having stopped, and still, I kept going. But here in front of me was evidence that it was possible. I was still not yet ready. I was stringing a week or less together at a time, miserable for every second of it. I was not ready to let go of what was keeping me there.

Anat was murdered a month after I met her. When I found out, I downed gin till i was unconscious. I was angry, I was lost, I was hurt, and I wished I never met her because meeting her changed something in me: I started to believe that something--anything!--else was possible from life besides endless hurt.

The funny thing about belief is that, well, we can't believe what we don't believe. And I didn't believe what I used to anymore, or at least not as unshakably. There was a seed of doubt: maybe something else is possible. I did not yet believe it, but I had been forced to become the tiniest bit open to the idea. Maybe I am wrong; maybe this is not all that there is.

And that's all it takes to get the ball rolling.

"Do you believe, or are you willing to believe?"

I don't remember the next year of my life very well, but i know it was very, very, very bad. I kept using, and it only got worse. I continued getting raped again and again. I got evicted. But the one thing I had was the morsel of hope growing inside of me.

And I hated it. Hope means I feel that I owe it to myself to try. Cynicism has a comfort to it: sure, things may suck, but at least I know they'll suck. Hope lacks that. Hope requires me to open myself up to disappointment. Hope had always been folly to me.

But slowly, I stopped wanting to hurt. That sliver of belief that the hurt could maybe stop turned into a desire. To fulfill the desire, the only option was to try. If hurt is assured through one path, and only a possibility in the other, I must choose the second, even though it is very possible I do not avoid the hurt.

It is not wrong to not be ready to move forward. If your process has not led you to want what I have come to want, that is not a failure. It does not make you deficient. I was not wrong to be where I was 4 years ago and I am not right for being where I am today. Maybe your process leads you elsewhere. Maybe your life worth living is very different than mine. None of these things are anything besides 'is.'

I heard a call from within myself that I had never heard before, and I felt compelled to answer it: act only out of goodwill and love for others and myself. Simple, but not easy.

I am myself and myself alone. The only life I get to live is my own. It is not for me to say what anyone else should do, because I am not anyone else and I do not know what anyone else should do. Maybe you got the same call as me, maybe you feel differently about it, maybe you didn't get it at all, maybe you never will, maybe you get a different call. Maybe your process is different. I am not you, I have neither ability nor desire to judge you or anyone else. All I can do is what i can and hope that others are happy and fulfilled, no matter what.

[sgiandubh]

So you are saying Caitriona is lying about having one child? I don't think that she was pregnant prior to 2021. Looking at earlier photos it is rude and insensitve to assume she may have been for the one possible reason, if she was, how do you know she hasn't had a miscarriage? Bring up a woman's material status at any stage based upon your opinion of her body is very hurtful. Would female diplomatic understand the need to be diplomatic in such a situation?

Dear Hurtful Anon,

Once more, you are reading what I wrote with your very special Venomous Set of Glasses. Shipper Mom is not a fictional character, and you know that very well (there are pics posted!): she is a woman with her own mind and, unlike me, she is a mother. She never forced anything on me and I have never forced anything on her: do you seriously believe we count C's babies, in our spare time? What an idiotic thought, pardon my French. I simply shared that tidbit to explain that I am tolerant towards any opinion on this matter, simply because I have no personal experience of motherhood, nor will I ever have. This is also why I chose to be silent towards anyone commenting : this is such an intimate topic, I personally do not encourage it on my page. When I know nothing about something, I simply keep quiet and so should you.

But I already explained why I have never and why will I never discuss this topic in the detail you are used to from other blogs. Is my endometriosis a solid enough argument, Punk? Do you have any idea of how it feels, playing the Funny Aunt to your nieces and your godson and your other friends' children? Have you no fucking shame?

When and where did I ever discuss C's midsection? Nowhere, and I do not plan to start that now, or ever. I have never analyzed any pictures, I have never gauged anything. I have never said she lied and who the fuck do you think I consider myself to even have an opinion on it? I simply said I didn't know and this topic is completely out of my shipping focus. Is it a crime to be happy and wish her well, without feeling the urge to have a belief set in stone about it? I fail to see what is 'undiplomatic' about my very moderate opinion, frankly.

If she indeed had a miscarriage, then you should know she has my deepest sympathy. But I am not discussing this, here. I am discussing and criticizing you twisting my very simple and honest words to fit your perverted, mean and vile agenda. Without having a clue about who the hell you are talking to. Did you read my earlier post I have linked to? I very much doubt it. You just pounced on me, because this is what you are, guys: a bunch of self-righteous, cruel people.

Now tell me, Anon: who, of the two of us, is the rude and insensitive one?

See yourself out. You disgust me.

[luisjuanmilton]

Genuinely cannot believe I lived to see the day when people would flock to the comments of an official F1 post to DEFEND Lewis. Even those who aren’t his fans. My 2021 self would never believe this we lived in the trenches for a solid decade.

[wosowrites]

In the End (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: mental breakdown

prompt: in which canada wins the world cup causing the reader to break down and jessie, her ex girlfriend, to comfort her.

a/n: had to get this one out before canadas game for my girl @woso-scotland

No one believed in Canada other than the canadian fans. English fans wanted england to win but knew Germany, Sweden and USA had a good chance as well. Canada was never on the list of possible victors in the mind of football fans. And yet, they shocked the world.

Germany versus Canada. World Cup final. August 20th. You were shitting yourself. Lena sat beside you, whispering words of encouragement. It was your second World Cup, but France 2019 hadn’t met your expectations. You wanted glory, and now it was in your reach. To be honest, you were scared about the football aspect, but you were terrified of the opponent. After a 0-0 draw to Nigeria, Canada had become positively deadly. But Jessie Fleming was the actual issue. You played for Arsenal, she for Chelsea, and after a game in 2021 you had started talking and eventually dating. But you couldn’t say no to a transfer offer to your childhood club, Wolfsburg when it came. You didn’t handle the situation well, basically ghosting your girlfriend and then telling her in a short text that you couldn’t be with her. It was unfair, but emotions were never your thing and they weren’t hers either so your younger self thought it would be fine.

It wasn’t. And you knew that when you got to Germany and realized how in love you were with her. Too late though. You thought it had been too late. But the second you walked out of the tunnel to roaring germans and canadians, you knew it wasn’t. Your eyes locked with your ex-girlfriends and you could basically see her pupils widen. She still loved you too. Your heart swelled with joy and you smiled at her slightly. She smiled back gently, her freckles brighter than ever due to the tan she had gained from the australian sun.

"Don’t look at the opponent like that, y/n," Popp scowled at you, grabbing your jersey and dragging you far far away from the Canadian side.

The game started off slower than a World Cup should have. Canada had most of the possession, passing confidently and trying to send balls through. But every time Ashley Lawrence, Kadeisha Buchanan or anyone else from the red side tried to send a ball up, your midfield would block it but not well enough so the ball would be sent back to Canada who would resume their passing.

Lena had the first shot of the game but it was an easy save for Kailen Sheridan. From then on, it was all Canada in the attack. The german box was crowded and any shot could happen any time. However, Jessie went down just outside the 18, holding her head after a collision with Lina Magull. You want to help her up as she was close to you but you felt Alexandra’s eyes burn into your skull so you looked away and placed yourself in the wall for the free kick.

It deflected off your head, pretty painfully you might add, but then out of nowhere, a whistle was blown and the referee signaled a VAR check.

Now a lot of people say Canada only win games through penalties, but during team talks, Martina had brought up that she thought that to be untrue. You can’t get penalties without attacking the opponents box. And Canada did that skillfully, and when they couldn’t finish, they drew fouls. It was a strategy and their strength. You thought you were going to throw up. Had it been you? Had you maybe cost your team the first goal.

It hadn’t been you. It had been Klara. She had pushed Jayde Rivière in the back to move her away from your keeper before the ball was kicked. And then the referee was pointing at the spot. Your ex girlfriend was standing in front of the ball, and she scored without a fail. Bottom left, no chance for Ann Katrin.

Canadian voices filled the stadium in the 44' minute. You couldn’t have been more angry and more happy for half time to come.

Martina was positive. Demanding, harsh, but positive. And her positivity was what drove you to score in the 56th.

A corner kick resulted in your continuous movement around the box. You went back and forth, in and out, anything to be a bother to the Canadian defenders. And that you were. In a rare Kadeisha Buchanan slip up, she had lost you as her mark. The corner went short to Lena who fired it into the box but Buchanan cleared it… right to you. One touch was all it took. You leaned over the ball and hammered it as hard as you could. The ball glides over the grass and slammed into the back of the net. You screamed so loudly your head went light. Running with your arms wide, you yelled, and cheered, and punched the air. Lena picked you up in her arms and held you high in front of the German fans. Alexandra kissed your head, your teammates screamed words of love at you.

But the Canadians weren’t done.

From then on, there was no break. Through substitutions came new legs but almost no shots were taken. It was as though a big game of keep away was hapenning between the two boxes. And then something so unexpected happened that you almost looked at the ref to see if it was aloud. Quinn scored. They got the ball from a clumsy pass from the German defence and shot the ball so hard you were almost scared for Ann Katrins safety.

The stadium erupted, Quinn looked almost scared of themselves.

But then you scored again, securing the golden boot. You didn’t care about that though. You wanted the big money. The big WC. A free kick taken by Lena Oberdorf in the 94th minute hit the cross bar and then went off your head and into the net, seeming almost accidental.

Extra time. You were exhausted.

But Canada ended it with a strike from Jordyn Huitema within the 18.

When the final whistle blew… well you wanted to die. You fell to your knees and let your head hit the turf. You stayed like that in child’s pose, plugging your ears to try and block out the Canadian celebrations for almost the minutes. Staff tapped your back, Martina tried to comfort you and tell you how proud she was of your goals but you just wanted to sob and never stop sobbing. So that’s what you did.

You sat up and sobbed to yourself. Head in your hands, heart in the most horrible pain it had ever been in, and mind full of doubts about what this meant for your future. Your body shaked so hard, harder than anyone else on the pitch. You sobbed louder, shook harder and felt worse than anyone else on that field. Maybe it was because you had felt the taste of glory and it had been taken away so suddenly, or maybe it was the fact that despite your goals you couldn’t secure the cup for your team, but whatever it was, it led you back to Jessie.

As soon as Jessie had congratulated and been congratulated by everyone, she looked to find you. The bright number 7 on your back was facing the Canadian side and she could see how hard you were crying. She basically ran to you, quickly kneeling beside you and cupping your face in her hands. This meant a lot. Jessie Fleming was not one for PDA.

Having her freckles so close to you once again almost made you feel okay, but then there was the fact that you couldn’t breathe. "Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. You played so well, you were so good," she whispered to you, trying her best to help you close out the sound of the crowd. "I- I can’t breathe," you said, taking huge gulps of air. Jessie sat beside you and let your head rest on her shoulder. She brushed her fingers through your baby hairs, kissed your head and whispered words to you. Ten minutes later, however the ache still there, the shaking wasn’t. "I need to get back to my team," she whispered, looking over her shoulders at the screaming and crying Canadians. "Yeah, me too," you said.

She gave you a small nod and then said "we should talk. Later, tomorrow or in a week if you want. Whenever your ready," she said. You nodded absent mindedly and walked away.

Receiving the golden boot was an award you knew you would appreciate later on, but you accepted it like a zombie in a trance. Everything felt blurry and you faked a small smile for the camera before hurrying off stage. Kailen got the golden glove, Sophia Smith the young player of the tournament and you all took a picture together. Then, the trophy lift.

You sat down on the turf, under the players bench with your head in Lena’s arms. She cried and you cried as you watched the red, white and gold confetti litter the field. "In four years, Lena. I promise you," you cried to her.

A week later

You hadn’t realized how freeing it was not to be in World Cup mode anymore. You could breathe, sleep, and eat without asking yourself how it would impact your game. In your last day in Australia before going back home to your family in Germany, you set up a meeting with Jessie at this small café.

Jessie arrived a couple minutes after you. She looked perfect, but she looked as though it was her first day in a while of being sober. "First day sober for a week, huh?" you asked her when she sat down. "That obvious?" she smiled. "Yeah. But you still look perfect," you let slip.

Jessie blushed and looked down at her lap. "You deserved that cup. Convert to Canadianisme," she teased. "And how does that work. Do I just marry a Canadian or…" you smiled. "Your flirty today," she smiled. "Yeah I’ve been drunk for different reasons," you laughed.

"Drinking your pain isn’t good y/n," she grounded you. "And drinking your joy is?"

"Fair point I guess," she said. "You must feel on top of the world. Cause you are," you said to her after a beat.

"I actually dont. I feel stupid for not fighting for you," she whispered. "Don’t. Please don’t feel like that. I left without any warning. It was so unfair of me," you said to her, leaning closer to her. "World Cup, Olympic Gold, FA cups, League Titles, they’re all nice but they would be nicer if I could win them while calling you my girlfriend," Jessie said, looking at you with the kind of eyes only a psychopath would say no too. "Are you saying you forgive me for packing my bags and leaving you in the dust…?" you asked, not comprehensive of her words. "Because if this is some runner up pity party I don’t want it," you said. "It’s not a pity party. Listen you’ve lost a lot this year and I realized that the one thing I can change is for you not to have lost me," the freckled girl said.

You didn’t care who was watching, you stood up and kneeled next to her. You were a fair bit taller than her so being kneeled next to her didn’t make the biggest difference in height when she was sitting. You grabbed her face gently and lowered it and kissed her. Right in the middle of the café, right in front of everyone, right in the face of all the people who thought you were trash.

Because trash doesn’t bag Jessie Fleming.