#shoulder instability

[siorasurgicalsblog]

What You Should Know About Shoulder Instability?

Our shoulder joint is one of the most complex joints in our body. It has an important role to play in the arm movements for daily activities as well as occupational ones. Any injury to this joint can affect all the activities that involve this joint. One of the shoulder problems that are reported is shoulder instability, and` this is what we will be discussing in the post. 

[tinyapartments]

hanash lately: shoulders, syllabi, slowing down, and other shenanigans from the last two months!

luntian had raved a few times about her boss's memory: "she remembers everything. you know why? she journals every day."

i told her: we should do the same.

but here i am failing miserably at keeping this blog updated. i had intended to write about our trip to baguio during the tail end of may, my 33rd birthday in lucban, our anniversary spent watching plays and a stand-up act, and my mundane teacher's leave. however, as i type this, another semester has opened and details for the past two and a half months are almost slipping away!

when we got back from japan, i had to prepare for a conference in baguio where my colleagues (who are also close friends) would present our current research. luntian took a leave and tagged along. we dined at oh my gulay! and she took me to bencab museum: it was my first time. i was happy to see works by santi bose and antipas delotavo in the flesh.

in june, i celebrated my birthday by having dinner at a taiwanese restaurant in quezon city with luntian and my closest friends, rogelio and faith. the celebration continued when we spent a full weekend in lucban. one of my best friends, june (not to be confused with jeane), had an airbnb there and her entire family was happy enough to host us. my mother and luntian's family went as well. we were well-fed for almost three whole days. we visited my dad's grave. i introduced luntian for the first time. she and i ran on saturday morning and discovered that lucban's uneven streets were not kind to our feet. on sunday, my mother, luntian, and her mom went to mass before heading back home. my jesus year could not have started any better.

the highlight of july was our first anniversary, which we spent at ace water spa for free (for free!). luntian was heading a paralegal training for work and had free accommodations (buffets included!) at the water spa's hotel. for that saturday we watched sir vlad's back-to-back theater plays (prinsipe bahaghari left us in tears and puting gunaw left us haunted) as well as atsuko okatsuka's full grown tour in manila. on sunday, we woke up early for an almost nine-kilometer run around up diliman campus punctuated by a well-deserved breakfast buffet at the university hotel. what a weekend!

and soon enough my most awaited teacher's leave began. i went home to cavite to spend time with my dogs and my mother. i started watching sex and the city. i tried finishing an ongoing research i'm writing on queer coming-of-age films, but it's still in my drafts folder. i ate my mom's baked goods. and in a blink, it's august again.

august had a disorienting start. though i was able to tick off most of the errands on my to-do list during our leave, i suffered two shoulder dislocations in the first two weeks of the month. luckily, i managed to pop them back in less than an hour for both incidents, but healing and rehabbing them will take a considerable amount of time. i guess that means no pickleball for a while.

i've had this injury since i was nine: i got hit by a speeding tricycle (probably a faulty assessment of a highway at my age as well) and broke my right clavicle. even though it healed as young bones have a pretty good recovery rate, it dealt a permanent blow on my right shoulder. it would dislocate for a few seconds if i twisted my arm on a weird angle or when i kicked too hard in high school soccer. i'd be immobilized for no more than five minutes, but it would pop back like nothing happened. i didn't understand what a shoulder dislocation meant then and just called it "spasms."

throughout my adulthood, i would endure three severe shoulder dislocations (i'd call it severe because i can't put it back on my own) where i'd end up at the hospital. the most recent incident was just last year. the doctor told me that my best resort is surgery (which i can't afford right now!). the consecutive dislocations just this month were frightening because it happened in my sleep.

while rushing to curate readings to update my syllabi in time for the school opening, i'd alternate tabs on researching about my condition. once you've had a shoulder dislocation, relapse is about 90% certain. it's called shoulder instability. some heal properly through physical therapy (i've done this after my second hospitalization), but the best hope is surgery. coach aivi, who happens to have the same condition as mine, but had the surgery told me that building muscles on your shoulders is also a big help. while this is comforting as i do enjoy physical activity, it would have to wait until my shoulder is stable enough to at least lift a decently weighted dumbbell. i hope i'm patient enough to wait for that.

the first week of school opening is also the first week of getting used to wearing my shoulder braces daily (i use different ones for daily wear, sleeping, and sports) and applying cold packs every night and morning. all these additions to my daily routine are unexpected and quite frankly irritating as they slow me down (especially in the morning!), but perhaps it IS a necessary reminder to indeed slow down.

slow down and wait for my shoulder to heal. slow down while i save up for surgery. slow down and take time to write more every day (to remember more about every day!). slow down to bounce back better and stronger. slow down, slow down, slow down. if i'm patient enough to rehaul my syllabi (i cannot wait for my students to read john cheever and doris lessing though!) then maybe i could be patient enough to wait for and work on my recovery.

slow down, slow down, slow down.

[siorasurgicals1]

Shoulder Instability Treatment: What You Need to Know?

Shoulder instability is a condition characterized by loose shoulder joints which can dislocate easily. This can be caused by a number of factors, including a previous shoulder injury, overuse, or a congenital defect. Symptoms of shoulder instability can include pain, popping or clicking in the shoulder, and a feeling of instability or weakness.

[pilonciillo]

[neverendingford]

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[drchristophedelongsblog]

Shoulder dislocation and instability: a more in-depth approach

Simplified anatomy of the shoulder

To better understand these pathologies, it is useful to know the main elements of the shoulder joint:

the humeral head: the upper end of the arm bone (humerus), which articulates with...

Glenoid: rounded cavity of the shoulder blade.

Joint capsule: envelope that surrounds and stabilizes the joint.

Ligaments: fibrous structures that reinforce the capsule and limit movement.

Rotator cuff: group of muscles that ensure shoulder stability and rotation.

Mechanisms of dislocation In a dislocation, the humeral head protrudes from the glenoid, resulting in a loss of contact between the two articular surfaces. Anterior (forward) dislocations are the most common. Risk factors for instability :Repetitive trauma: micro-trauma associated with sporting activities (volleyball, handball, etc.). Ligament laxity: a certain genetic predisposition can lead to looser ligaments. Defects in coaptation: a malformation of the glenoid joint can lead to dislocation. Rotator cuff lesions: muscle weakness can impair shoulder stability.

Types of instability :Traumatic instability: linked to a specific event (fall, shock). Atraumatic instability: occurring without apparent cause, often linked to ligament laxity. Recurrent instability: repeated dislocations. Multidirectional instability: the shoulder may dislocate in several directions.

Diagnosis Diagnosis is based on

Clinical examination:

look for pain,

limitation of movement,

crepitus (cracking sound),

laxity.

Imaging examinations

X-rays, MRI, arthro-MRI to visualize lesions.

Treatment The choice of treatment depends on the severity of the instability, the patient's age and activities. It may combine :

Reduction of the dislocation: manual maneuver to restore the humeral head.

Immobilization: splint or sling to relieve pain and allow healing.

Physiotherapy: to strengthen muscles and restore mobility.

Surgery: in cases of recurrent instability or significant injury, various surgical techniques may be considered to stabilize the joint (ligament repair, lateroplasty, etc.).

Possible complications

Early osteoarthritis: premature wear of articular cartilage.

Nerve damage: axillary or supra-scapular nerve damage.

Joint stiffness: if immobilization is too prolonged or if rehabilitation is inadequate.

In short, shoulder dislocation and instability are pathologies that can be very disabling. Early diagnosis and appropriate treatment are essential to restore normal shoulder function.

Go further

[indoreshoulder]

Revolutionizing Mobility: The Advancements in Wrist Replacement Surgery

The human wrist is a complex joint that plays a crucial role in facilitating various daily activities. However, conditions such as arthritis, trauma, or congenital deformities can lead to debilitating wrist pain and dysfunction. In such cases, wrist replacement surgery has emerged as a transformative solution, offering renewed hope for individuals seeking relief from chronic wrist issues.

Evolution of Wrist Replacement Surgery

Wrist replacement surgery, also known as wrist arthroplasty, has undergone significant advancements in recent years. The procedure has evolved from its initial stages, where the focus was primarily on addressing severe arthritis. Today, wrist replacement surgery is a refined and specialized field that caters to a broader range of wrist disorders, providing patients with improved functionality and reduced pain.

Indications for Wrist Replacement

Wrist replacement surgery is typically recommended for individuals who have exhausted non-surgical treatments and continue to experience debilitating wrist pain and loss of function. Common indications include:

Arthritis: Osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis are leading causes of wrist joint deterioration, often necessitating replacement surgery.

Trauma: Severe wrist fractures or injuries that result in irreparable damage to the joint may require surgical intervention.

Congenital Disorders: Some individuals are born with structural abnormalities in the wrist joint, leading to chronic pain and dysfunction.

The Procedure

Wrist replacement surgery involves the removal of damaged joint surfaces and their replacement with artificial components made from high-quality materials such as metal and plastic. The surgery can be performed under general or regional anesthesia, and the specific approach may vary depending on the patient's condition and the surgeon's preference.

Throughout the procedure, the surgeon skillfully eliminates the damaged segments of the wrist joint, meticulously readies the bone surfaces for prosthetic components, and securely positions the artificial joint. The primary objective is to restore the natural range of motion, alleviate pain, and ensure stability in the wrist. If you're seeking consultation, consider reaching out to the finest orthopedic surgeon in Indore.

Advancements in Prosthetic Design

The success of wrist replacement surgery relies significantly on the quality and design of the prosthetic components. Modern advancements in prosthetic design have led to more durable and anatomically accurate implants. Implant materials are chosen to mimic the natural properties of the wrist joint, allowing for smoother movement and improved longevity.

Innovations in surgical techniques and implant designs have also contributed to better outcomes. Computer-assisted navigation systems and three-dimensional printing technologies have enhanced the precision of implant placement, ensuring a more customized fit for each patient.

Rehabilitation and Recovery

Post-surgery, a comprehensive rehabilitation program is crucial for optimizing the outcomes of wrist replacement. Physical therapy helps patients regain strength, flexibility, and functional independence. The recovery process varies from patient to patient, but most individuals can expect a gradual return to normal activities within a few months.

Complications and Considerations

While wrist replacement surgery has shown considerable success, like any surgical procedure, it is not without risks. Potential complications may include infection, implant loosening, or nerve damage. Patients must carefully weigh the benefits against the risks and engage in open communication with their healthcare providers to make informed decisions about the surgery.

Wrist replacement surgery has undergone significant advancements, emerging as a highly effective solution for individuals grappling with debilitating wrist conditions. The ongoing progress in surgical techniques, prosthetic design, and rehabilitation protocols has led to enhanced outcomes and an elevated quality of life for patients. As technology continues its march forward, there is a promising trajectory for further refinement in wrist replacement surgery. This continual evolution offers hope and relief to an expanding number of individuals seeking to restore wrist function and alleviate chronic pain. For those in search of the best wrist replacement in Indore, these advancements signify a positive trend toward more sophisticated and successful interventions.

[sbfsportshand]

How serious is shoulder instability Singapore?

The seriousness of shoulder instability can vary depending on several factors, including the underlying cause, the frequency and severity of dislocations, and the impact on a person's daily life. If you suspect shoulder instability Singapore or are experiencing symptoms such as recurrent shoulder dislocations, pain, or limited shoulder mobility, it is essential to consult with a medical professional, such as an orthopedic specialist or a sports medicine physician.

[siorasurgicals1]

A Quick Guide on the Treatments of Shoulder Instability

Shoulder instability is a condition in which the shoulder joint is loose and can dislocate or sublux (partially dislocate). This can be caused by a traumatic event, such as a fall or a sports injury, or it can be due to a congenital (present at birth) or acquired weakness in the shoulder ligaments. 

[thebibliosphere]

I don't think this is something you've mentioned before, but I don't know where else to turn.

When I drink alcohol of any type I (occasionally) have an issue where within minutes of the first sip my shoulders and back are in intense pain and discomfort. I call it getting Atlas'd (or Alcohol Roulette) because it feels like im very literally shouldering the world. It doesn't happen every time but something about 1/3rd of the time and it doesn't seem to care much if it's a beer or liquor or a mixed drink.

I have other chronic pain issues, so im not exactly a lightweight when it comes to pain, but it is so sudden and encompassing, and only happens occasionally so it hits like a truck every single time. I recently had to cut a date short with my husband (the first we'd been on in a while) because I lost the roulette for the first time in a while and it's just very frustrating.

Nobody ever seems to have experienced this or known someome else who has. So while I know this isn't something I've seen you talk about before, do you (or your followers) happen to have any experience with this or know where to point me as to what/why this happens? Google has not been successful for me.

Hmm. Does your head hurt with it too? And do you have any other signs or symptoms of dysautonomia because based on your description that could be ‘coat hanger pain.’

Alcohol is loaded with histamine, so if you have any sort of autonomic disorder (or disorders linked to it like fibro) or mast cell instability (even minor) it could be tanking your blood pressure resulting in this area of pain.

A lot of resources on coat hanger pain talk about it cramping or being dull, but for me, it manifests like a physical weight that smacks me seemingly out of nowhere and then grinds me down with the persistence of it.

The fact that it doesn’t happen every time is also reminiscent of a bit of histamine overload, i.e., Sometimes you’ve already hit your window of tolerance for histamine that day, and the alcohol tips you over, and on days where you’re fine with your histamine load is lower.

I’m not saying for sure that’s what it is, obviously, but what you’re describing is familiar enough I feel it worth mentioning.

[cameronwillow]

Sleeping beauty

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Imagine Rafe Cameron is stalking you but he doesn’t know you actually like it.

Warnings! Stalking, Somno, dub-con, oral, fem receiving, unprotected sex. Reuploaded!

You had accidentally discovered Rafe Cameron following you around during one of your shopping trips at the grocery store. The start of it, you weren’t certain but you caught him lurking in the background as you walked through the aisles.

You wondered if he was so mesmerized by the fact that you didn’t externally show your attraction to him or it was the way you wore dark clothes, pink accessories and little bows in your hair. Soon, you started to play along. Leaving your curtains open at night in your apartment. Making sure to purposely leave your panty drawer open when you would hear him sneak into your bedroom while he thought you were asleep.

You’d hold your stuffed animal, curled into a ball while you listened to him huff and groan as he tugged at his dick with your thongs in the dark. It was sick. The way he let himself in. The way he covered your items with his cum and pretended nothing was out of the ordinary when you ran into him.

Today, you saw his car as you sat outside on the front steps. You hid a smirk as he revved the engine, taking a phone call angrily before he drove off in a hurry.

It was a dangerous game to play. You knew that. Rafe Cameron was known for his emotional instability and rash reactions. He was always around while you were in high school. The bad boy who partied, snuck out and got into trouble while his princess of a sister complained to you about him.

You wanted him. Badly. You liked his darkness. You were a moth to his flame. Maybe it was because you held some of that sickness in yourself that others couldn’t see behind your innocent looking eyes.

Tonight you waited. You took your time in your bath, moisturizing your body and wore your favorite pajama set with delicate panties underneath. You left your door unlocked and the window unlatched. The lights were off but the lingering scent from a candle hovered in the air. You breathed quietly as you turned on your side as Rafe walked through your home. You always recognized his heavy footsteps.

You bite your lip to keep silent as he eases open your door, closing it behind him and you use the corner of your eye to see his figure lingering in the corner.

It felt dangerous to keep playing this game but you were rendered still as you felt his hand brush against your blankets, trailing up until he felt the soft flesh of your shoulder.

“You’re so fuckin pretty while you sleep…” He mutters and his fingers caress your neck. “I bet you’re soaking wet right now.” The last part of his sentence came out as a growl.

He removed the quilt and you felt his weight maneuver so he was shifting you on your back. Your knees separated as you kept your body limp. Rafe moaned as he looked at the wet patch in-between your thighs. “I need to taste it.”

Rafe pulls down your panties and lowers himself on his stomach. He presses his face against your cunt, groaning deeply as he laps at your clit. “God, you taste so fuckin good. Sweet as an angel,” He praises and his palms tremble as he kneads your thighs.

He let out a pornographic moan as he eagerly sucked and licked your cunt. It was almost impossible to stay still, your digits flexed and your jaw clenched. God, it felt so good. Rafe started grinding down on the bed.

“Could cum just from this sweet girl. Can’t get enough, fuck,” He mutters and you finally break.

You grab his hair, wrapping your thighs tightly around his head and your hips raise. “Rafe, don’t stop, please.” You rasp and Rafe huffs with an excitement that further arouses you. And frightened you.

“Dirty little girl. You like this? You like me eating this pretty pussy while you’re asleep?” Rafe moved his head around and your vision went white as your orgasm crashed. Your stomach uncoiled and you whined loudly.

Rafe tongue fucked you through it, leaning up to stick his thumb in your mouth, he spits inside on your tongue. “You taste too good. I had to share. I need to fuck your pussy, my fist around my dick isn’t enough,”

He pulls down his pants and underwear, his cock slapping against his thigh with his red leaking tip. “Gonna breed this perfect cunt, stuff you full and make sure nothing spills out.” He promises and slams into you.

You let out a sharp gasp as he wraps his hand around your throat, your legs tangling around his torso and you feel your body move with his thrusts. “Fuck! Squeezing me so tight I can barely move. God, you’re so pathetic. A helpless little puppy. Can’t believe you left your door unlocked,” Rafe grunts as his eyes are blackened.

“I did it on purpose,” You admit with a wheeze, “I knew you were coming in. I wanted you to fuck me,”

Rafe snarls as he humps into you wildly and you feel like you’re going to split in half. “You’re even more disgusting than I thought. Needy girl wanting my dick so bad, you let me in.”

He taps your cheek with his, moving his hand from your throat to your tit. “These are all mine, everything about you is mine. I own you, and you will never fucking doubt it, princess.” He promises.

You feel his cum spill into you, a warm rush filling you up as he jerks with his cock twitching in you. Rafe gives your ass a slap, hard enough that you let out a whimper and climax again.

“Fuck! Oh god, needed your dick so bad. Please, please, please, fuck me again. Fuck me until I can’t even breathe anymore.” You beg with tears in your eyes.

“God damn little bunny. Don’t worry. I’m gonna make you into my cum slut until the only thing you think about is my name.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

@bloodibambiidoll @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @rafesangelita @sturnioloshacker @oceanblvd111 @oceandriveab @redhead1180 @hornyxdreams @rafeyscurtainbangs @eddiesxangel @userchai @stillwjk-channie-lixie @starkeysbabygirl @cameronsprincess @marchsfreakshow

[zarnzarn]

Athena shoots upright as soon as her eyes fly open, gasping. She calls on her spear and slashes in a brutal curve, provoking shouts from the enemies who'd been holding her down as they back off. Bares her teeth in a snarl as she grabs the sheets off the bed to whip at the eyes of the assailants and-

Light floods into her eyes as they step away from her attack and she freezes as she remembers a flash of brightness too fast to escape, heat and burning like never before, electricity that seeped into her very bones, thunder that deafened, lightning that hurt-

"Get back!" She hears and turns unsteadily back to- back to where Apollo is pulling Ares back by the cape against the far wall. Apollo. Ares. Aphrodite, Aephestus, Artemis.

"Wh-" She manages, before she's bowled over, coughing. She has never done it before, and she can't stop it from happening- chest rattling as her knees give out, barely holding herself up with her spear in time to reach the bed. It doesn't stop, doesn't stop, plumes of smoke escaping her mouth as she can't stop, can't breathe-

"Athena," Hera whispers, and a rough hand gently touches her on the shoulder, handing her a glass of nectar. She accepts it gratefully, tilting her head back to down it. It's soothing like it's never been before, stoping the coughing at last and it clears her headache long enough to realize that she isn't in her armour- she's in a chiton.

"Where is my armour?" She rasps as soon as she can, wiping her mouth. Looks around- Apollo's chambers.

She'd always known being the favourite wouldn't protect her forever. But repeating the words didn't seem to reduce the hurt.

Nor the shaking fear.

"-not!" Apollo is saying, indignantly setting his hands on his hips. "Do you have any idea how hard you got hit? You're lucky I could even stabilize your aspect enough to reduce some of the damage, otherwise you'd still be having a seizure back at Mount Olympus!"

"Mount Olympus," Athena mutters oddly, without much intent to it. She tries to stand again and her vision suddenly cuts out, provoking a round of screams as she loses her balance.

When the world blurrily comes back into focus- and she doesn't like this, hates this sudden weakness; she's always been able to get back up from any blow, has never visited a medical chamber in her existence, even when they had to fight the Titans- she's in Ares' arms, oddly horizontal.

"Cease this stupidity, sister," Artemis hisses at her as she grabs onto Athena's arms to bring her back to the bed. "Calm yourself. You are alive. You are safe."

"My armour," Athena says, voice cracking, head rolling oddly on her neck, unable to look upright. She catches a glimpse of Aephastus holding onto a sobbing Aphrodite, staring at her with a strange sort of sorrow.

Something twinges in Athena's chest in reply, but she stumbles before she can address it, feeling a fission of panic at the instability before Ares' grip on her tightens enough to keep her upright. They're all staring at her like that, she realizes, with that same horrified heartbreak.

"Didn't Artemis just tell you to cease stupidity?" Ares barks, though it's rather quietly said, for him. He adjusts her on the bed until she can lean back against the pillows. His hands are shaking, and Athena stares at them with curiosity. "Weren't you the one to lecture me half to death about when to remove the armour?"

"What," She says weakly, then moans as an aftershock trembles through her, residual sparks humming maliciously as they exit her skin, leaving her trembling. "I- hmmm, what? What were- what were-"

"Athena, calm down, please, you're scaring us," Hera says, bangles jangling as she sits down next to her, taking one of Athena's hands with desperation. Athena tilts her head to squint, noticing the tears for the first time, before she shudders as her skin registers the heat, the unbearable heat.

"Scaring?" She murmurs when it stops, voice coming out smaller than she intended it to.

"Her fever keeps rising and falling," Apollo reenters the room before anyone can answer, carrying a large tub of some odd liquid. "Here, help me rub this on her skin, it should extract any remaining- any remaining lightning."

They all move towards the tub at the same time, dipping the cloths provided and then taking positions in a circle surrounding her. Athena stiffens, fingers twitching for a weapon, but the first touch of Hera's drenched cloth on her forehead makes her moan in relief, the blessed coolness of it making her melt back into the sheets. She has no strength to complain or protest when her fellow gods each take a limb to rub at, a sensation both horrifically terrible and unbearably good. She has never taken her armour off in her life.

"Easy, that's it," Apollo says coaxingly, lips downturned like he's trying not to cry. She whimpers as the cloth on her left leg suddenly burns as a spark escapes, instinctively pulling it away, but Aphrodite grabs it before she can and resumes rubbing, whispering apologies. She turns her head and weakly opens her mouth for the herb Apollo lifts to her lips, desperate for relief from the splitting headache.

She can't think. She can't think.

Athena has no idea how long it goes on, how long the other gods ignore their realms to tend to her. Slowly, they strike up a conversation, something light-hearted that she can't follow- different from their never-ending arguments and insults, as they talk about the past year and humourous stories and varied anecdotes.

Athena can't help but relax into it, the soft bed at her back and gentle hands massaging her sore muscles and warmth all around her. Feels something trembling within her since she first became aware of herself settling down with a sigh.

Until she suddenly smells ozone.

Hera and Apollo both notice her tensing up immediately, and look to where she can hear slow footsteps approaching. Apollo growls and shoots out a hand, bringing up the shields of his realm.

The conversation dies down as they all look to the side, at the distinct shadow at the other side of the curtain.

Rage, Athena realises, thoughts slow and muddied. They're angry with him.

"I will handle this," Hera says coldly, with the steel undertone that Athena strives for. She moves her cloth aside and leans down to kiss Athena on the forehead, like a mother would. "You rest, my daughter."

Athena's breath hitches, eyes burning. Nobody has ever cared for her, apart from Zeu-

Nobody has ever cared for her.

... Nobody has-

Hera turns sharply at the noise that suddenly escapes Athena, half hysterical laugh and half distraught wail.

"Did I win?" Athena asks desperately, pushing herself upright, ignoring the protests of the others as she pulls her limbs from their grasp. Hera stares at her and Athena grabs the side of the bed as she tries to lever herself up like a wild animal, demanding in a broken voice, "Did I win?"

A silence that stretches for a painful moment before- "Yes," Aephastus says, putting his hand on her shoulder to guide her back from the edge. "Yes, Athena, you won."

A strangled gasp of relief leaves her, making her light-headed as she leans back against the pillows. She shivers, then sobs- humiliation running through her before she hears an answering noise of sorrow from Aphrodite next to her, pressure all around as her five younger siblings embrace her carefully, gently, like she would break at any moment.

She's not the one who's been raped by a Titan's daughter for seven years.

The thought has her breath hitching, wiping her tears away with a hand that refuses to co-operate the first few tries. "I need to-"

"No," Artemis snaps, glaring at her. "I know you think of nothing but your work, but Athena, you cannot do it this time." Outside, Hera's and Zeus' voices rise as they begin to shout and scream. "You must rest."

"N-no, that's not- aah," She groans as another aftershock rips through her, leaving her panting and soaked in sweat when it's done. "I need to- I need-"

"Hermes has gone to his grandson," Aephastus says soothingly. "Peace, Athena. Your hero is free."

For a moment, it doesn't comprehend and she stares at him blankly. "Free," She repeats, words still infuriatingly faint and lilting. "He's free? I- I need my helmet, where is-"

"No, Athena!"

"Sister, please, you cannot resume your duties, you are in no state!"

"I need my helmet, please, please- just give me my helmet!"

Her cry echoes off the walls and she hears herself when it bounces back to her, broken and pleading and so unlike her she feels nauseous. Her siblings have gone silent and still at her begging, staring at her with shock and horror and fear and sorrow alike. Even Zeus and Hera have stopped talking.

Athena shakes, wishing she could rip this awful vulnerability out of her veins, wishes she could find a stone footing to stand on once more, wishes she wasn't in this horrible chiton.

"Please," She whispers.

Quietly, Aephastus gets to his feet and walks in the direction of the nearby drawers, where she can now see her belongings stacked up haphazardly, blood-stained.

"Sister, you must calm down," Aphrodite pleads. She takes her hands and Athena dazedly looks down at her, with her wide, scared eyes. Seizure, her mind registers finally from Apollo's earlier talk. Ah. She seems to have frightened them all. "You cannot afford a relapse."

Athena squeezes her fingers in acknowledgement, but reaches for the helmet when it's held out, dented and worn.

She touches the metal and feels the full force of seven years of silenced prayers hit her at once.

She's crying before she knows she's doing it, clutching the helmet to her chest as the warmth of the worship wraps around her like a shawl, and holds it tight against her as Ares tries to pry it away.

"No, no!" Apollo intervenes, shifting forward. He touches a hand to the helmet and suddenly the hymn bursts forth around them, loud even though the prayer itself is quiet and broken. Athena inhales at the feeling of it, soothing over the cracks in her own mind with their never-ending continuity, desolate, unbroken faith even when she never came to help-

He's still singing.

She shifts her hands on the helmet to make sure but- yes. Odysseus is calling her, still, at this very moment.

Her head snaps up, but even the dizziness the motion causes doesn't take away from how much clearer the room looks. "Where is he?"

"Sister-"

"If you do not answer me, I will take to the skies myself," She says firmly. "Where is he?"

Her siblings exchange looks.

"Three days out from Ithaka," Artemis replies with a sigh. "On a raft. But listen, wait but an hour, at least absorb these prayers-"

Athena stumbles off the bed and pulls on the helmet, closing her eyes.

"Wait, the bandages-!"

"Athena, you'll hurt yourself, please!"

"Daughter, be careful!"

Athena opens her eyes and looks out at the waves, rough and choppy, but not enough to sink the raft. She looks down and looks at the way the faded clothes don't fit him, the way he has no water left to drink but he still continues to sing.

"Odysseus," She says, and he freezes.

A wave rises and falls. They stay silent, unmoving.

"Won't you look?" The words break out of her, cracked and desperate.

He inhales and exhales, tears in the sound of it. "I don't want to look if you're... if you're not really here."

She swallows against the lump in her throat, takes a step forward. "Well, I-" Her voice cracks, but the fragile grin on her face is real as it spreads, the frailest thread of laughter entering her voice. "I would hope. That if you were hallucinating of me, that the spectre would at least have wisdom enough to tell you that you were."

Odysseus sobs and her heart cracks, feels his heart cracking in turn; yet it is akin to a misaligned bone that never healed right and has to be reset- she can hear the laughter before it comes, with relief coming from the brink of madness, with joy they'd both forgotten and missed. "It is you."

"I could not reach you on Ogygia," She blurts out, desperate to make him understand. "Could not hear your call. I would have come the second time you prayed, if I had."

"It is you," He whispers, swaying. A wave rises suddenly and they both burst into movement, grabbing ropes and pulling the mast, balancing together to keep it steady.

The wave passes. They are almost touching now.

"Won't you look?" Athena asks again, raw and grieving. "Odysseus. My companion, my friend. Please."

He turns at that, a stunned expression on his face- before it turns into wide-eyed horror as he looks at her. She laughs breathlessly, slightly dizzy, but- her friend. How lovely it is to see him again.

"Athena!" He rushes forward with unexpected vitality, the parts of him that she knew suddenly rising to light in his eyes, in his movements, becoming unhidden from the defeated, beaten figure he'd been moments before. "What in Gaia's name-"

"I'm sorry," She interrupts as she slumps forward into the hands on her arms, off-balance. "I should have tried better to understand, all those years ago. I understand now and I- Odysseus, I am-"

"Athena, shut up," Odysseus snaps, clearly panicking. She laughs again, because isn't it such a novelty, to have a person who will have the audacity to tell her to? "Of course it's forgiven, I'm sorry too, I should have fucking listened back then- but listen, what in Hades happened to you? Why do you look like this- why do you have bandages- Hermes wouldn't answer when I asked if something happened to you, fuck-"

"Peace," Athena rasps, even as her vision blinks in and out, forcing her to kneel. They both grimace as another wave crashes into the raft, but they don't upturn. Odysseus kneels down with her, staring at her with such worry and concern she can feel nothing but fondness. "The disagreements of gods are often violent."

"Gods-" His eyes flicker to the side of her face, and he frowns, reaching out to push back the helmet. She bends her face down to let him, feeling an odd burning on the left side that she has a vague bad feeling about- proved right when Odysseus' expression falls into blank horror. "You got into a fight with-"

"Yes."

"But he's your-"

"I know. He did not take kindly to my petition to release you," She smiles dryly, without mirth.

"To release me?" Odysseus wheezes, face cracking into anguish and disbelief alike. "Athena, what- I- I'm not worth-"

"It was worth it," She snaps. "Consider it my penance for abandoning my own. I certainly don't regret it."

"I never felt abandoned," Odysseus whispers, taking her hands as she shifts, supporting her body with his own as they lean against the mast. She looks at him, and remembers why Penelope is still weaving, why he's still out on the waters, why Ithaka is waiting out the suitors till Telemachus takes the throne. "I always knew you would come back. I just figured it would take ten years more, perhaps."

Athena is silent for a bit, absorbing that. And then, because she can't hold it back any longer- "I am sorry about your men." His breath hitches under her and she turns to take him in her arms, knowing what's coming. "I am sorry about your friends."

He sobs, ugly and loud, and she holds him tighter. "I am sorry that Titan's whelp had you for so long, and what she did to you. I am sorry the Fates were so unkind."

"Athena," He keens, finally falling to pieces. The sobs are mere loud gasps for air at first, before it dissolves into wailing, screaming, grieving for all the men they'd kept alive through a war, only to lose them to this cruel tragedy instead. Even she hadn't known- hadn't anticipated how wrong things would go after she left. Hadn't even thought that he hadn't reached home.

"It's all my fucking fault," He shouts, shaking. "If only I had- if only-"

"It is not. No one could have known," She whispers. "The Fates are unknown to us all."

He sobs louder and she closes her eyes.

But finally, their tears dry up. She holds him still, as the night fades and the sun rises again, trying to take his hurt into herself so he can be happy again.

"I am sorry," She whispers, seaspray around them. "That my enemies became your own. That I pushed you so hard. That I chose you, and brought pain to your life so."

"Hey now," Odysseus says, pulling back to look at her, a broken smile on his face. "Hold your blasphemous tongue, before you insult the wisdom of Pallas Athena." She laughs, even as tears spill over. "Even if I had the chance to choose again right at this moment, my goddess, I would still choose you."

"That means more than you know," Athena murmurs, overcome. She gathers all her strength and reaches out to run a hand over his head, soothing his mind and driving away the last tendrils of madness that were still holding onto him. He sighs and relaxes under her, some visible weight lifting from his shoulders. "Still. I will learn from my mistakes. If you would give your old friend a chance-"

"Stop right there. Of course I-" Odysseus scoffs, reaching out to hold her left cheek for emphasis. "Athena, your left eye is half gone."

"Ah. Well, that explains the depth perception," She mutters, then bursts into giggles at the incredulous look on his face.

"Are you drugged?" Odysseus demands, but he's already trying not to laugh himself. They both move on fast. "What am I saying, of course you are- have you been drugged this whole time? Who on Earth drugged you?"

"That would be me," Apollo says, crossing his arms.

Odysseus snarls, grabbing his sword and swinging wildly in an arc, half-animal in his panic, pushing Athena behind him.

"FUCKING- whoa, hey, calm down, it's her brother, it's Apollo!" Apollo half-shrieks inelegantly, jumping back. "Honestly! Athena, call off your hero, please."

"Apollo?" Odysseus tilts his head, lowering his sword and narrowing his eyes.

Apollo stares at him. "Wow, you two- really do act the exact same, huh. Yes, Apollo, god of please let me change your fucking bandages, do you mind?"

Odysseus bows and murmurs apologies, clearly wary of getting into more trouble, but to her mild surprise walks behind Athena instead of to the other side of the raft.

"I don't need assistance," She mutters to him, even as she grimaces at the length of the chiton as she tries to pull herself upright.

"You're still dizzy," Odysseus points out, settling in behind her to hold her steady. He wipes at the tears still on his face and smiles at her. She manages a half-smile back. "Do you need to go back to Olympus?"

"Yes," Artemis crosses her hands and Odysseus' fingers tighten painfully on her shoulders.

"I'm not quite certain there's space for so many on this raft," Athena mutters.

"It's a magical raft, it'll survive- but never mind that, could you not have at least sent a message that you were okay?"

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before running off without a word!"

"Really, daughter, you should know better!"

Odysseus grip is bruising now, and his sword is in front of Athena protectively; she can already tell what moves he's planning to use if they choose to attack. "Who..?" He asks lowly.

"Pantheon. At ease," She replies back shortly, before looking up at the others. "I thank you, my fellow go- my family, for your worry and concern. But we are only two days out from Ithaka and I would like to see this journey completed."

"You are not going to see yourself completed, if you don't rest," Apollo says, roughly at the exact same time that Athena undermines her own argument by throwing up on the raft.

"Athena, go," Odysseus says urgently when it's over, handing her helmet back to her and adjusting her cape as Hera kneels down beside her to hand her another glass of nectar, looking at him oddly. Odysseus grimaces and changes his tone. "I will be fine, patroness. I'll call for you when I reach the shores."

Movement catches her eye and she sees Ares remove his own helmet, giving her a reproving look. She remembers the speech he was talking about now- the one she'd loudly ranted at him when she was drunk a year ago, thinks about how much more at ease he is now.

"Alright," She acquiesces and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. "Two days."

Mania fills Odysseus' eyes as he smiles back, finally home from a war twenty years ago. "Two days."

Athena grins, even as she feels Hera wrap an arm around her to take her away. "Penelope is waiting."

Odysseus' eyes widen, then fill with tears, like he'd never quite truly let himself believe it; but his smile is wide and true. "Penelope is waiting. Thank you, Pallas Athena."

"You don't thank friends," She murmurs, exhaustion settling in. Odysseus laughs and the last thing she feels is a warm hand on her cheek and their foreheads pressed together, before the world goes black and she knows no more.

[visbacktatto]

viktor x assistant!reader

you were always too worried about viktor. you couldn't help it, not when he seemed so passionate about ruining himself for the sake of his research on hextech. someone had to take care of him, if not himself, you.

in the beginning it was difficult, when jayce brought you to the lab viktor gave you a studying look, sizing you up, deciding almost immediately they didn't need help, not yours, not from anyone.

but jayce had it known it was a non negotiable decision, he was getting more and more busy with the council work and viktor was surely exhausting himself with the research, he needed the help and you would be perfect for the part.

and you were, actually, slowly you proved your worth, being quite a genius on tech yourself, it wasn't hard to figure out the little instabilities with the hextech and help with the infinite calculations that came with the job.

and so, viktor started warming up to you, he started with asking for help in little things, like correcting an equation he couldn't seem to crack, checking some new invention that was malfunctioning every time he tried to start it, and every time he had to hide his surprised expression when you actually solved the problem.

so he started respecting you, and then, actually talking to you, letting you know a thing or two about him. how he liked his coffee, how organized he was with the notes on the notebook that he usually showed no one but now he's showing you, how passionate he actually was about giving people access to magic, about providing real change and comfort to the people in need and how far he was willing to go for it.

and you didn't even realize you were falling in love with him until one of those late, late nights in the laboratory, just the two of you working on some new tool together.

viktor was sleepy, clearly, you could see it in his tired eyes, but he was too stubborn to leave the work unfinished, leaned on a desk, being swallowed by the infinite papers with prototypes, he didn't even feel it when he fell asleep, his head resting on the cold surface above his notebook.

but you noticed.

it wasn't rare for him to sleep in the lab, he'd told you that before, you'd seen him early in the morning when you came to start working and he was already there. but it was the first time you saw it happening.

and he looked so beautiful, exhausted, the bags under his eyes profound, but undeniably beautiful. almost ethereal in that brief moment his body relaxed.

and you don't know why, but you reached his hair, your fingers featherlight when they brushed the brown strands, a surprisingly smooth sensation, his hair was soft.

and, yet unconsciously, he leaned into your hand, making you give into your sudden impulse and actually caress his scalp, gentle, caring.

later, when he woke up, he thought it was just a dream.

and from that day on you felt your heart beating fast almost whenever you were together. sitting side by side discussing something, his breath close to your face, his hand brushing yours when reaching for a pen, his knee touching yours under the desk when he was too focused on a new invention to move away, to keep his distant and cool demeanor, he was warmer now.

you continued doing little things for him, bringing him food when he forgot to eat and brushing it off as “i just bought too much for myself, do you want some?”, of course he knows you did it on purpose but he wouldn't point it. besides, he almost found it... endearing.

and on a particularly quiet night in the lab, the only sounds being of viktor's pen on paper and the soft hum of the machines surrounding you, you fell asleep there, for the first time.

the thing is, you were sat beside him, studying some pieces of a tool you've broken down to fix, and the moment you fell asleep your head was drooping to the side.

viktor thought it would give you a sore neck lately. of course it was the only reason he brought you closer to rest on his shoulder... it's not like he felt like he needed you close and couldn't resist seeing you so unapologetically adorable by his side... of course not.

he continued writing, but he was unfocused, the gentle weight of you resting on him occupying his thoughts. he didn't realize he was even moving before he brought you a little closer, his hand securing your waist, all in the name of making sure you were comfortable, he justified to himself.

you stirred, slowly waking up, your senses registering his scent before your eyes opened, he smelled good, like coffee, faint perfume and something indistinctly him. then you felt his hand resting on your waist, his warmth seeping through your clothes. and you could swear your face was warming up.

you opened your eyes, confirming your suspicion, you were resting on him, god you felt so embarrassed. “viktor? i'm sorry, i-” you mumbled sleepily, but he quickly brushed it off with a “no need to apologize, it's okay, you are tired”, his hand dropping from your waist out of surprise to see you awake, “maybe you should wrap it up for the day” he suggests.

you nod, slowly distancing your body from his, and he almost misses it. “maybe i should” you murmur, rubbing your eyes with your hand, trying to shake half of that sleepy haze away.

and you don't even notice that viktor is watching you. his eyes focused on your face, your cheeks looking a bit puffy, cute, even if he'd never mention it. his hand moved without his intent, holding your wrist, “you're feeling well?” he asked, sounding gentle, his accent thick, making your sleepiness almost dissipate by how fast he put your heart to race.

and he was feeling it, by holding your wrist he could feel your pulse picking up. not that he would mention.

“i'm fine i just... couldn't sleep tonight and i got a bit exhausted, i guess” you answered honestly, trying to not focus on his hold on your wrist.

he finally noticed he was holding your wrist so he dropped it. a little embarrassed himself by his actions. why was he acting like that? and before he could think it through he offered, “you can... continue, to sleep here... if it helps” what meant sleeping on him. but he didn't bring himself to say it out loud.

you looked at him a bit confused, and you were confused. what did he mean by that? sleeping in the lab? that was always uncomfortable, even if you couldn't seem to get some real sleep in your bedroom.

but before you could question further he gently pulled you closer, giving you the chance to put some distance between you again if you wanted to. he rested your head on his shoulder again, not saying anything about it, though.

you didn't know what to say either, your heart beating on your ears, loud, so loud that you could bet viktor was hearing it too.

and just when you thought you couldn't get more flustered, he searched for your wrist again, looking right at your eyes, searching for consent. that you understood the meaning. and you just nodded.

he entwined your fingers, a small, faint smile resting on his lips.

and you smiled too, and everything seemed right in the world in that stolen moment of peace.

[indoreshoulder]

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[embbarnes]

Roasted Chestnuts. | B.B

summary: Bucky takes to sleeping in the living room, you comfort him with hot cocoa.

warnings: Angst & Fluff | PTSD symptoms | Nightmares | Post accidental injuries

a/n: I hope this technically qualifies, even though it's sort of angsty. But there is fluff! I decided to use a few themes from the list provided and melded them together. Unedited, mistakes to be fixed later lol. ;; wc: 3.3k

Cold sweat and cold weather don't exactly mix.

Neither did the cold, wooden floor of the living room but...he insisted on it ever since he woke up choking you to near unconsciousness, his hands trembling with horror when he realized what he had done. The hardwood became his self-imposed punishment, refusing the comfort of proper bedding.

He couldn't forgive himself for that, his instability taunted him for weeks after that, having to see the bruise around your throat cause by his hand. Every morning he would catch glimpses of the purple-blue marks adorning your precious neck, each glance a reminder of how close he had come to destroying everything he held dear. The guilt ate away at him, manifesting in sleepless nights and countless apologies that could never seem to erase that moment from his memory.

He deserved it; the chill in the air making every bead of perspiration feel like tiny needles against his skin.

Especially his scars.

His shoulder hurt bad during the winter, which wasn't a huge surprise, but he would've appreciated if his body formed a bit of resistance to the cold by now.

Between endless cryofreezing, Siberian training, the prolonged exposure to freezing should have given him some sort of enhanced ability to withstand the cold but...cruelly, almost laughably, he was more vulnerable to the bite of chill now.

It pissed him off, quite frankly.

But right now, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on his annoyance.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to you as he sat there on the cold floor, his body tucked carefully against the chair that stood positioned by the stark wall. He had turned the chair into an improvised shelter of sorts, his upper body deliberately laid close beside it in a way that almost seemed to mimic having another body near him for comfort. The transition had been gradual over the course of several months, he had slowly grown accustomed to sleeping in a proper bed, and more importantly, he had grown used to having you there beside him.

Your warm, protective arms would wrap around his frame each night, and he had found himself free of any hesitation or shame as he tucked himself against your chest, letting the steady rhythm of your heartbeat become his personal lullaby, lulling him into peaceful sleep. Better than any goddamn noise machine he could dream of.

But that peace had been shattered after one particularly visceral nightmare that had resulted in him nearly choking the life from you in his sleep-addled state. He found himself unable to bear the thought of sharing a bed with you again, too terrified of what his unconscious mind might make him do.

He thought he was getting better, he was supposed to be better. The words didn't work anymore...therapy was mediocre at best but it was supposed to help him. Yet, after all of that, he still hurt you.

He's still plagued.

Frustrated with himself and the situation, he kicks the chair slightly, causing it to skid a few inches across the worn wooden floor with a harsh scraping sound. Bucky takes a deep breath, his flesh hand instinctively gripping his dog tags - those small pieces of metal that remind him of who he once was - one his own, one Steve’s.

Damnit, Steve. Why didn’t he stay?

The one man who always had his loyalty, his best friend, he felt so abandoned.

Now he had to dump his shit on you. You didn’t deserve this.

Dealing with what remained of Bucky. Dealing with his problems.

Burdening you with his issues.

All alone.

His vibranium hand nervously bundled the thin, threadbare blanket he used to sleep under. The television continued to drone on in the background, playing yet another cheesy Christmas movie that felt hollow and distant. He didn’t like these ones.

He liked the older ones.

They were simpler, easier to grasp. The fantasy of talking snowmen and flying reindeer seemed far better to lose himself in than these modern romantic tales of a cheerful woman who sings perfect carols and inevitably falls for a handsome shop owner...predictable stories that seemed to play on an endless loop.

The warm glow from the Christmas tree cast a gentle, inviting light across the sparse living room, making the empty space feel more like home. The apartment was still largely unfurnished, your current financial situation wasn’t great to say the least. Bucky's couldn’t get a job with his ‘criminal’ background, nor would anyone hire the Winter Soldier, regardless of how good he worked and how well he was with his hands. That left you as the sole provider. The weight of being the only one working pressed heavily on your shoulders, though you never complained.

You were happy to do it, if it meant Bucky could spend time relaxing and not worrying about anything.

Still, he didn’t like it.

The thought of his girl working for the both of you gave him a sour taste in his mouth, his gut tightened as he saw it as just another burden for you. A gentleman deep down, you having to work to support the two of you didn’t do anything but give him even more mental crisis.

Even when you were on the run in Romania, he found odd jobs. He brought food home. He took care of the two of you. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t think you shouldn’t be working because you were a woman, it’s just…he felt horrible. You did so much for him, and all he could do was sit at home and wait for you to come off your shifts. He felt worthless.

And despite the tight budget, you'd worked extra hours so you could afford a Christmas tree for the apartment. While Bucky had initially been indifferent to the idea of holiday decorations, his memories of past Christmases long since faded into a blur. Watching your face light up as you carefully placed each ornament made every penny worth it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the subtle creak of floorboards, and he turned to find you peering around the corner of the short hallway that led to your bedroom. "Buck Buck...what're you doin' up?" you murmured, voice thick with sleep. Your hair was charmingly disheveled, and his old henley hung loosely on your frame, the hem nearly reaching your knees. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked slowly, "I heard somethin' out here, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, doll I'm...I'm fine." He exhaled slowly, not exactly confident in his words, shoulders slumping forward as the weight of sleepless nights pressed down on him. His hand still held the dog tags, fiddling with them restlessly as his thumb pad gently traced the engraved names and numbers, a nervous habit he'd developed.

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself that?" You asked softly, sitting down beside him on the cold floor, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give him space. "Why don't you come back to bed with me? It's cold out here and that small blanket is not enough... I can see you shivering."

"No." He spat firmly, his jaw clenching with tension, "We've been over this. I'm not going to risk hurting you again. I can't...I won't let that happen."

"It was an accident-" you tried to reason, reaching out instinctively.

"NO!" Bucky snapped suddenly, his volume and tone loud enough to echo off the walls, making you flinch as it startled the sleep out of you. The fear in his own eyes matched yours for a split second.

It was silent for a few beats until finally he found the courage to break it with trembling words.

"I can't...I won't hurt you again. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face - the fear in your eyes when I came back to myself. You can downplay it all you want. The doctors told me how close I came to crushing your trachea. How am I supposed to carry on knowing what I almost did? You still have that dark bruise around your throat, oh...god..." His voice cracked and faded, heavy with anguish. The traumatic memory had carved itself deep into his psyche.

The faceless HYDRA torturers had been replaced in his nightmares, instead, visions of his own hands wrapped around your throat, watching helplessly as the life slowly drained from your eyes.

That was more horrifying than any of HYDRA's torture.

He would willingly submit himself to every cruel experiment, every brutal conditioning session, every moment of agony they had ever put him through - if it meant he could erase that one terrible moment when he had almost become your killer.

"Bucky," you interrupted his thoughts, your hand reaching out hesitantly in the dim light of the room, hovering just inches from his tensed shoulder but not yet making contact. You turned your palm slowly upward toward the ceiling, silently willing him to either take your hand or at least allow you the comfort of touching him. "I promise you, I am fine. Yes, it might've been a bit scary in the moment when it happened, and I understand why you're worried...but I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, not in a million years. It was an accident, nothing more than that."

He shifted uncomfortably under your unwavering gaze, his fingers clutching the deep green blanket even tighter to his chest, drawing it close like armor against both the cold and his own guilt. You could see the slight tremor in his frame, whether from the chilly air or his inner turmoil, you weren't sure. You knew he must be freezing out here in the living room, but if there was one thing you'd learned about Bucky, it was that he could be impossibly stubborn.

No matter how much you yearned to lead him back to the warmth of your shared bedroom, you knew he wouldn't budge an inch, wouldn't dare return to your bed, not while the belief that he might unconsciously harm you still gripped his conscience.

Instead of trying the back and forth of arguing, you decided to do something else. Rising from your spot, you made your way back to the bedroom, your bare feet making soft padding sounds against the aged wooden floorboards that creaked ever so slightly with each step. When Bucky heard you walk away, he assumed you had given up and gone back to bed for the night, so he slowly lowered himself down onto his makeshift sleeping spot, trying to find a comfortable position to attempt sleep.

But your absence was only temporary. Within moments, you had returned.

Your arms were laden with an assortment of blankets and a plush pillow, carried from your bedroom.

"No, doll..." he sat up immediately, preparing to launch into reasons why you shouldn't subject yourself to sleeping on the floor, even if it might be hypocritical. But you possessed every bit as much stubbornness as he did, and you had already made up your mind that he wouldn't have to face this night alone.

"Hush. I'm staying with you, and if that means camping out in the living room, then that's exactly what I'm going to do." You insisted firmly but gently, carefully arranging the blankets and pillow beside his spot. "And if sleep doesn't come easily tonight, then we can always put on a movie to pass the time. But I don't want you to be on your own, you've been torturing yourself for weeks now..."

Bucky looked down at his lap, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his features. "You are such a brat..." He finally replied, his lips pulling into a small, almost reluctant smile. The warmth in his chest grew steadily as he watched you, touched by how adamantly you insisted on sleeping beside him, even if it meant spending the night on the cold floor.

"That's me," you replied with a playful smirk, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now...how about some hot chocolate? If we aren’t gonna sleep, then we might as well have a little treat. Plus, it'll warm you up." You offered, already making your way to the kitchen with determined steps, your mind set on the comforting beverage. "Marshmallows or whipped cream?" You called over your shoulder, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as you deliberately didn't give him any opportunity to decline the offer.

He shook his head slowly, running his hand over his face as an affectionate smile spread across his features, unable to hide how endeared he was by your persistence. "Marshmallows...please," he responded softly.

"And that chestnut flavoring?" You added thoughtfully, observing him still comfortably tucked away on the floor, his form relaxed against the wall. Bucky gave a shy nod, a gentle expression crossing his features, and you couldn't help but smile warmly in return. "We should roast some, I hear people do that this time of year. But I'm not sure why exactly? I haven't had the chance to try them prepared that way before."

You carefully made your way back to where he sat, extending the steaming mug of hot chocolate towards him. The ceramic vessel was filled nearly to the brim, with a generous mountain of tiny marshmallows creating a fluffy white peak on top.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders slightly, reaching up to pluck a few of the dry marshmallows from the pile, popping them into his mouth one by one. "You can eat them plain as a snack," he offered simply, savoring the sweet dissolving treats.

"Yeah, but that seems a bit too plain for chestnuts. How about…a pie? God, I love pecan pie, why not chestnut pie? Or I hear they go good with apples."

"Pie would be really good...you know how much I love your baking," Bucky smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up as he fondly recalled all the delicious sweet treats you had lovingly prepared throughout the seasons. Apple pie was one of Bucky's all time favorite desserts, and he always lit up when you made it for him. You aren’t a professional baker by any means, but the homemade pastries and treats that came from your kitchen had become one of his most treasured simple pleasures in the world.

You sat nestled against him, your shoulders touching as you both sipped hot chocolate and talked about everything and nothing. The conversation drifted from the gentle snowfall outside to potential weekend activities, from dessert recipes you wanted to try together to movies you both wanted to watch.

Bucky had changed visibly since you crept out to see him, his tense shoulders had gradually loosened, the worried lines around his eyes had softened, and genuine smiles now came more frequently. You both occasionally made playful commentary about the predictable romantic comedy playing on screen, sharing knowing looks as the plot became increasingly formulaic and harder to tolerate.

"Can't we watch something else?" Bucky asked, turning to meet your gaze with a slight grimace, "I'm getting tired of these kinds of movies...at this point, I could practically recite exactly what's going to happen next, line by line."

“What do you mean?” You laughed a little, smiling at him as he rolled his eyes in return.

“Let’s see…it’s either Noel, Carol, or some other Christmas themed name for the main girl, and she always moves back to a hometown or is divorced or lonely or just…wandering through life feeling like something’s missing. Meets a handsome guy, a handy man, a baker, someone she knew from her childhood, and they eventually fall in love after this big Christmas event happens.” Bucky muttered, “And there's always singing! That’s been the plot for the last three movies, I swear.”

"Sure," you responded with another laugh, he hit the nail on the head. You reached forward for the remote and scrolled through channels until you stumbled on one specifically for classic holiday films. "Oh my god, this one! It's from, like...1960." You watched, somewhat amused, as the distinctively vintage stop-motion animation showed Rudolph trudging through the snow, the character's movements charmingly stilted by today's standards. Your finger hovered over the remote button, ready to continue searching.

"No, no...don't change it," he interjected softly, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice, "I'd like to watch this one..."

"Really? Alright," you set the remote down and got comfy. These classic films held a special place in your heart, each frame bringing back cherished memories of curling up on the couch as a child, lost in the magic of storytelling and still believing in Santa Claus. "This used to be one of my favorites," you murmured softly, snuggling closer against him. Bucky lifted his right arm, eager to feel your heat against his bare chest. He hadn't experienced watching these movies the same as you had, his past denying him even these small comforts.

It wasn't like HYDRA allowed him a tv.

Watching it now, even without the foundation of the right nostalgia, he was drawn into the film's spell. There was something touching about its simplicity, the way it managed to weave enchantment through every scene despite its less sophisticated approach. Even with its fantastical storyline, it carried an authentic magic that resonated deep within him, something pure and genuine he could instinctively recognize. Much better than the movies he had seen all day.

The first movie seemed to float by in a comfortable haze, and before you knew it, another began to play. These old ones didn’t have a very long runtime, but you forgot just how quick they fly by. The Charlie Brown Christmas movie filled the screen with its familiar charm. The gentle orchestration of the score and soothing tone of the character’s voices set a comfortable mood in the room.

While the movie played, you felt a slight shift in weight beside you. You glanced over and noticed Bucky's empty mug resting forgotten in his lap, old white foam from melted marshmallows sticking to the rim, his features softened as his eyelids had finally drooped closed. His weight leaning more against yours, and you carefully adjusted yourself.

"Oh, Bucky..." you whispered tenderly to yourself, watching as the exhausted man finally succumbed to sleep, the warm hot chocolate having done its job exactly as you'd hoped it would. Gently, you removed the empty mug from where it rested precariously on his lap and eased him down into a more comfortable position, making sure his head was properly supported by the plush pillow beneath it. You then took your time meticulously arranging the thick blankets over his body, paying particular attention to his metal arm, ensuring it was completely covered.

The winter months were especially difficult for him, the cold made the connection points of his prosthetic ache terribly, so you made sure that every inch of the metal limb was thoroughly insulated against the chill.

Damn, you should really invest in a heated blanket…they were just so expensive.

You were determined to get one for him though.

After adjusting the television volume just a little to create a soft, ambient background noise, you settled yourself beside his sleeping form. You snuggled in close, your hand moving in slow, soothing strokes up and down the broad expanse of his back.

Even in the depths of sleep, he instinctively sought out your warmth, shifting closer until his face was buried against your chest, his arm wrapping around you in a secure embrace. Though the weight and coolness of the metal arm pressed against you was initially a bit uncomfortable since the henley rode up a bit, but you quickly adjusted. Vibranium was nice, once it warmed it would stay that way for a long time.

But the same vise versa, meaning you really should get a heated blanket soon.

For now, this would do. You'd be the heat he needed, even if it meant staying with him on the floor.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

@buck-star 's Fluffy Winter Event.