#the circuitous nature of regret demands that the more you look to the past the greater the tragedy and the duller the joy will be

[clowndensation]

anyways when richard siken said "if you can point to it, you don't need a word for it. you only need a word for it when it's no longer there"

and when tolkien said "but of bliss and glad life there is little to be said, before it ends; as works fair and wonderful, while still they endure for eyes to see, are their own record, and only when they are in peril or broken for ever do they pass into song."

and when claudia said "diaries are friends of last resort"

we don't see madeleine and claudia in their months together because their happiness was created in the present and presence of each other, and captured only in the eyes of the other. there's no need to share to strangers what was already shared between the people it mattered most to. the voyeurs of the world will only ever see the outline of where pleasure lies.

[stayextrafrosty]

I Am Your Future, I Am Your Past: Chapter 12

A Roswell New Mexico Soulmate AU

AN: I’m so sorry for not updating this. I hit a bit of a wall but had some lovely friends help me out. I’m starting to plan the rest of the story and it’s looking like it’ll be between 23-25 chapters. So hey! Halfway point! Anyway... thank you for reading and being patient with me!

Read on AO3 // Masterlist // Chapter 1

-

Alex checked the rearview mirror to make sure Michael was still behind him. He grinned and shook his head at how close he was tailing. Alex wasn’t one for road rage but even he was tempted to hit the brakes, just to freak him out a little bit.

Alex looked down at the map spread on his passenger seat. The reception would be spotty until they got to the cabin and hooked up the Wi-Fi. They should be coming up on the “driveway” soon. It was a hunting cabin left to him by Jim Valenti that he would visit with Kyle when he was young. The trees and boulders scattered around provided more than enough cover to play hide and seek.

He finally saw the small worn sign signaling the beginning of private property. He signaled and slowed down, remembering the trench that was near impossible to see just off the road. His car would be ok but would Michael’s old truck?

They hadn’t passed another car in at least ten minutes. He released a breath of relief that Forrest – or anyone else – hadn’t followed them. Then again, his father never knew about the cabin. Jim always kept it a secret between them.

The dust kicked up and obscured Alex’s view of Michael but he could see the dust from his truck in the side mirror. Five minutes later, the cabin came into view and Alex noted the young chinaberry tree he had selected to get some shade on the property. The leaves still a beautiful green even as the season was coming to an end.

He slowed as he pulled up. Putting the car in park, he stared at the small house. The wood rack on the side of the cabin was filled with wood left over from the landscaping. His eyes ran over the solar panels on the roof and down to the porch. He stared at the front door. He would be living here for who knew how long. Alone. With Michael.

Michael’s truck rumbled up next to him, pulling him from his daydream. Alex folded the map and put it back in the glove box before stepping out of the car. He walked up the steps without looking at Michael, pushing the key in the lock and opening the door.

The place would need to be dusted but most of the furniture was covered with white cloth. He felt Michael’s body heat step up behind him. He still jumped when his fingers brushed his arm. Alex moved in further, trying to seem as natural as possible.

“Start pulling covers off of things and I’ll get the power going,” Alex said, heading to the back storage room. He didn’t hear a reply from Michael but he felt the confusion through the mark. But if Alex could feel the confusion, couldn’t Michael feel his nerves?

His reaction to Forrest this morning had been real. He was beyond pissed but the feelings had already taken root. He was searching for a reason to forgive him. But he had kissed Michael a few days ago and it wasn’t as though he regret it. It felt more right than anything else but he wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t residual feelings from the vision they shared.

He pulled open the fuse box and started flipping switches. His eyes landed on the spot where Michael had kissed his hand. It felt like it was burned into his skin. He shook his head and continued messing with the fuses.

Alex flipped the last switch. Nothing happened for a moment. Suddenly sparks flew as the fuse short circuited. He jerked his hand away but the sparks burned his skin and he hissed in pain. He cursed under his breath as he held his hand to his chest. The pain faded quickly and he looked down, not a single burn was left.

He spun and rushed back to the main room where Michael would be. His eyes scanned the room and he saw Michael sitting on the couch, jaw clenched and gripping his hand, watching the burns appear.

“Michael! I’m so sorry. Come on, we need to run that under some water,” Alex rushed out, grabbing his arm. He followed without protest to the kitchen sink. Alex turned on the water and listened to the pipes groan before water spat out.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Alex, but it’s just a small burn. I’ve gotten worse working on cars,” Michael teased gently. Alex ignored him and grabbed his hand carefully, pulling it under the cold water.

They were both silent as the water ran. Alex’s heart raced at the warmth of Michael’s skin under his fingers. The heat rose to his cheeks as he pulled the cabinets open, looking for a towel. He pulled one out and shut the water off, handing it to Michael. He hurried to the lone bathroom in the bedroom where the first aid kit was.

Alex spun to go back to the kitchen and ran into a firm body. Michael’s hands held on to his waist, keeping him from stumbling back. Alex looked at his face for the first time since they arrived. Michael’s gaze burned as he glanced down. His heart pounded in his chest, just like Alex’s.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“I’m not,” Alex insisted, though he could hear the lie in his own voice.

Michael didn’t say anything back. Just released him and walked out of the bathroom. Alex’s shoulders dropped with a sigh. Being around Michael was like all the air was ripped from his lungs. The only solution his brain could ever come up with was to step closer until they were breathing together.

Alex followed him out, glancing at the bed in the middle of the bedroom. He and Kyle had always slept on air mattresses in the living room. He hadn’t considered that he and Michael would have to share the bed. He shook his head. He would have to sleep on the couch.

“Michael, let me bandage your hand,” Alex said as he stepped back out the front door.

“It’s fine, Manes.” His last name was like a slap in the face. Wasn’t he the one who said he didn’t want to do that anymore? He yanked the passenger side door on his truck open, pulling out his bag and box of stuff. Alex stared at the truck as he kicked the door closed and walked past him.

He blinked a few times before turning and following him back inside. What had he done to piss him off? Alex didn’t want to think it was just because of the slight avoiding.

“Michael—”

“Is your car still unlocked? I’ll grab your things,” he said, cutting him off. Without waiting for an answer, he was walking back out the door.

Alex clenched his fists. Why wouldn’t Michael just talk to him? He heard the slamming of car doors and soon Michael was carrying in his bag and headed to the bedroom. Alex followed him again.

“Hey,” he tried again.

“I’ll stay on the couch. And I can run back to town for food.” Michael tried to push past him.

Alex’s nose twitched and he grabbed the door, slamming it shut before Michael could leave. He jumped and raised an eyebrow at him. Alex stared him down, refusing to be the one to look away first.

“What are you so mad about,” Alex demanded. Michael scoffed and shook his head.

“Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do such a complete one eighty on their feelings. One minute you’re furiously protective and the next you’re horrified at the idea of even being around me.”

“Where the hell did you get that idea?”

“You avoided me and then tried to lie about it. Message received loud and clear. I feel everything, Alex. I can make an educated guess about what you’re thinking.” Michael grabbed his hat off his head and ran a hand through his hair. “You regret yelling at Forrest. Because fuck you actually still have feelings for the guy. After everything he did. So just forget it.”

Alex was frozen. Only moving to allow Michael to leave the room. He didn’t understand how Michael could have such a clear picture of his emotions when Alex could barely pick up on his. He gripped his shirt over the mark and heard the truck start outside.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He tried to reach out mentally. To decipher which emotions were his and which were Michael’s. Everything was tangled together but it was like two different colors. Alex a vibrant blue and Michael a muted green.

He picked through the anger and confusion. Separating the betrayal and the annoyance, the desire and love. The love… swimming in the background of every emotion, refusing to be separated.

-

A week passed in discomfort. Alex and Michael talked but never about anything important. Michael slept on the couch and refused to let Alex take a turn, insisting that he’d be a terrible person to make the one missing a leg sleep on the ‘lumpy piece of crap.’

So Alex moved around the kitchen, emptying the case of eggs to make a couple omelets for them both. Michael groaned from the couch, blanket tossed lazily over the lower half of his body. Alex had gotten used to seeing him shirtless but he still couldn’t control his heart if he let himself stare too long.

“I told you that you could sleep in the bed,” Alex called to him as he sprinkled cheese onto the eggs.

“And I told you that I wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch,” he responded with a grunt. His bare feet padded up behind Alex before shifting to walk to the fridge. Alex glanced at his back and let his eyes follow the muscles to where his pajama pants started. Then he refocused on the food in the pan.

“We could just share the bed you know. It’s not like it’s small.” The silence that followed the suggestion was almost enough to make him want to take it back. The food sizzled and Alex shifted it with the spatula.

“I figured you would rather not. You can hardly stand to be in the same space as me.”

Alex sighed. He was still convinced that he was avoiding him. And maybe he had been but it was over now. Alex couldn’t avoid him when they had to live together. The easiest way to get through this was if they were at least friendly. Friends could share beds. Girls do it all the time. At least, according to Liz, Rosa, and Maria.

“Michael. Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company,” Alex snapped. He hadn’t meant for it come out as harsh as it did but this argument had been going on since the first day. Even though they had hardly discussed it. Enough was enough.

“Oh yea, that’s convincing.”

“Well maybe if you stopped being a jackass for a second and listened to me. You can read my emotions Michael, not my thoughts. And I think you’ve severely misinterpreted them.” Alex shut off the stove and placed the eggs on a plate before turning toward Michael. HE stood with his arms crossed, a slight frown settled firmly onto his face.

“Well enlighten me. What have I misinterpreted?” he bit out sarcastically. Alex shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed before he started speaking.

“I care about Forrest, yes.” Michael scoffed and began to turn away. Alex grabbed his arm. “We were friends Michael. Probably on our way to something more. What did you want me to do? Sit and wait patiently for you to decide I’m worth it? You rejected me. And I don’t blame you for that. We didn’t exactly leave things in a good place.”

“Friends?” Michael laughed. “You knew him for maybe a week.”

“From what I remember we only knew each other for about that long back in high school.” Michael’s eye twitched as he looked away from Alex. “Michael. I care about you. There is no doubt in my mind about that. But I can’t shake this feeling that maybe it’s just left over from the visions.”

Alex watched Michael’s eyes soften. He released his arm hesitantly, hoping that he wouldn’t bolt for the door. Michael ran a hand through his hair before leaning back against the counter.

“I’m not avoiding you. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel around you.” Michael’s gaze seemed to turn intense. Alex couldn’t help but blush.

“Why don’t you try explaining it,” Michael said.

Alex turned away from him, grabbing the food he had made and bringing it to the table. He set it down in front of their respective chairs before sitting down himself. Michael followed suit, sitting across from Alex. He pushed his food around with the fork, debating how to explain this. Couldn’t Michael just read him? Wasn’t that the point of the mark?

“I… I’m nervous. Being around you has always made me nervous. And it’s even worse now.” He started.

“Why?” Alex felt naked. It was a reasonable follow up question but he was terrified at the answer. He couldn’t even lie to make it less awkward.

“Because feeling you… your emotions. They’re so clear all the time and I… I hate knowing that mine are the exact same way for you.”

“So you search for any wall you can put between us. And right now that happens to be Forrest.” Alex looked up at him briefly before refocusing on the food.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “This curse pushes us together. And me wanting you this badly… it can’t be natural.”

It was silent for a while. Neither of them eating a single bite of food. Alex froze as Michael’s chair scraped across the floor. His bare feet padded along the wood until he stood next to him. Alex looked up at him, heart pounding. Michael brushed his fingers over the mark beneath Alex’s shirt. His breath caught in his throat.

“And yet you’re the one thing that does come naturally to me.”

Then Michael stepped away, taking the breath from Alex’s lungs with him. He left the food on his plate as he walked toward the master bedroom. After a few minutes, Alex could hear the water of the shower. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Why do you have to say things like that?” he mumbled to himself.

He picked at his food for a few minutes, just listening to the water running in the background. Eventually he stood and put both plates in the fridge, figuring they would want to eat later. Had that conversation even solved anything? He still didn’t know how to talk to Michael and his own feelings didn’t magically make sense.

Alex walked to the front room and sat on the floor for his daily stretches. He grimaced but pushed himself down anyway, pulling his legs into a butterfly position. He took deep breaths as he counted to ten, only flinching once.

He was on his back, pulling his leg into his chest when the water stopped. The idea of stopping never crossing his mind. His eyes closed to concentrate on his breathing and pain management. Alex had shifted to his other leg when Michael wandered back into the front room. Alex felt his pulse jump.

Alex opened his eyes to look at him. His hungry eyes could have started a fire under his skin. His hands gripped the t-shirt he was holding. Alex cleared his throat and pushed himself into a sitting position. Water dripped from Michael’s curls onto his chest and Alex felt his mouth go dry.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Michael teased. Alex hoped the blush on his face wasn’t visible.

“I was done anyway.” Alex would have stood up by himself. He was more than capable. But Michael wordlessly offered his hand, black t-shirt tossed over his shoulder. He wanted to smile and say ‘no thanks, I can do it’ but he grabbed Michael’s hand instead.

Michael pulled him up faster than he was expecting, making him stumble forward. Michael’s free hand landed on his hip, keeping him steady. Alex couldn’t look away from his eyes. At least not until he found himself tracing the lines down to his mouth and the way they were just slightly parted.

Michael’s hand was warm and Alex guessed his lips were too. He wanted to close the distance but wasn’t sure if it would be welcome. He looked back up at Michael’s eyes, getting lost in the golden brown. Michael’s thumb slipped under the hem of his shirt, rubbing over his skin gently.

Michael was the first to pull away, clearing his throat as he did. He moved back toward the kitchen, pulling the shirt over his head. Alex just stared at the spot where he stood. He should have known better than to think their conversation would have fixed anything. Did Alex even want to kiss him again?

Yes. I want him.

He shook his head and walked into the bedroom for his own shower. He couldn’t trust his own desires. If it wasn’t real, then what? If they broke this curse and Michael felt nothing for him, could he really live with that? Or what if his own feelings vanished and he hurt Michael? He couldn’t handle that either.

It would be best for them to stay separate for now.

-

There was no way Alex didn’t know what he was doing. Michael tapped his fingers on the counter as the microwave spun. Alex talked about his stretches but always did them while Michael was out. Watching the way his muscles moved under his clothes was more than he could take. He almost turned right back around for another cold shower.

He hadn’t expected Alex to actually accept his help when he offered it. So he pulled harder than he meant to and there they were. Face to face and Michael wanted more than anything to close that distance. Alex had wanted it too. But based on the conversation they had, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The beeping of the microwave pulled him back from the daydream. He groaned and pulled the food out. He supposed he couldn’t blame Alex for thinking the way he did. It was even possible that he was right. No one knew how the curse worked.

He ate his food slowly, listening to the water running and opening himself to feel Alex’s heart. He glanced toward the cracked bedroom door, just visible from where he was sitting. His phone buzzed in his pocket with a text from Izzy.

How’s the honeymoon?

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t what this was. Sure Alex had agreed to it but he knew how he hated being trapped. Work could only occupy so much of his time and surfing the web was never really his thing.

It’s hiding Iz. Not exactly fun. He messaged back.

Have you guys at least figured out that whole consummation thing?

He stared at the message. It was obvious what they needed to do. But something like that…

Michael was comfortable with casual sex. Always had been. But with Alex it could never be just casual. He couldn’t ask Alex to do that just for the sake of maybe ending the curse without going through all the trials. Not to mention that Michael’s heart wouldn’t be able to handle having him once and then never again. He had denied himself for seven years. It was only easy now because he was used to it. But his control was withering every day.

No. He sent back.

If he told Isobel, he didn’t trust it wouldn’t get back to Maria. She was smart and had probably figured it out already but he didn’t want to hurt her by hearing it from a person she didn’t even like.

Look, do I need to send DeLuca over there to get your ass in gear? I swear she’s more invested in this than you are.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t help but help smiling. She really was amazing. He only hoped that someone else would see it eventually. Someone just as strong to be her partner.

I’ll talk to Alex. He mentioned having some theories. No need to have her make a special trip.

His phone was silent after that. He wondered if Alex would be willing to look into the stone again. Maybe there was something they missed. Maybe it didn’t have to be sex. But calling forth the spirits of Samuel and Thomas was exactly what was making Alex hesitant. Going back in would only push them further apart.

The sound of water no longer came from the bedroom. Michael stood to clean his plate before Alex came back out. He hurried out the front door, needing to think about how he would talk to Alex about it. He laughed at himself as he stepped off the front porch. Of course it was sex. That was how these stories always went.

The sunlight made him squint as he moved to the side of the cabin where all the wood was stacked. An axe leaned against the wood next to the pile. Most of the logs probably didn’t need to be cut but he needed an excuse.

He moved to grab the axe just below the window. It was when he looked through the small crack in the chiffon drapes that he knew he was done for. Alex’s bare back moved fluidly. There was no doubt he had muscles but he was still soft. Michael wondered if he would still make the small whine he used to when he squeezed his hips.

Michael tore his eyes away before he got too lost in thought. His jeans were quickly becoming too tight. He cursed under his breath and grabbed the first piece of wood on top of the pile.

-

The next couple days came and went, and Michael still hadn’t brought up the idea of the consummation or what they should tell Isobel. He had caught Alex looking at him curiously a few times but he never said anything either. He was running out of time. Eventually Isobel would come storming through the door demanding to know the details of the vision.

Alex was frowning at his laptop when Michael pulled out the chair to sit across from him. He only glanced up a moment before refocusing on his work. Michael just sighed and pushed the lid of the laptop down slightly.

“We need to talk.” Michael watched as Alex’s shoulders stiffened. He closed the computer gently before leaning forward on his arms.

“About what?” Alex asked. Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“The vision, Alex. Isobel wants to know how to break this curse. What do you want to tell her?” Alex looked away from him, his heart rate jumping.

“Maybe it’s not what we think it is,” Alex offered unconvincingly. He picked at his nails and his nerves were overwhelming any other emotion Michael might be able to read.

“Did you want to go back into the vision?”

The blush on Alex’s face was cute. Michael would never get tired of seeing it. But this wasn’t the time to focus on it. Alex’s embarrassment told him all he needed to know. Going back into the vision wasn’t the answer.

“We have to come up with something, Alex. Isobel already threatened to send Maria to help us figure it out.” The guilt that swept over his face made Michael’s heart ache. Not that he didn’t feel guilty about it but he couldn’t ignore his feelings for Alex.

“Just tell her to keep it a secret,” he finally said. Michael watched the way his hand clenched and wanted nothing more than to be able to reach over and grab it.

“Isobel? Keeping a secret?” Michael tried, joking. The glare he received in response reminded him just how close Alex and Maria were. He let his tone turn serious again. “I can ask her to keep it but I can’t promise anything. I know you don’t want Maria to know because neither do I. But eventually we won’t have a choice.”

Alex stared at the table, the wrinkle between his eyebrows only getting deeper. Michael tuned in as much as he could to the emotions swirling between them. He only wished that the uncomfortable tension that permeated everything could be broken.

“Do you…” Alex started. His fingers began tapping on the table. The embarrassment was front and center again. “Do you want to… consummate?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

There it was. Out in the open. Michael wanted him but if it was under the guise of ‘consummation’…

“No.” Alex jumped at the suddenness of his voice and a quick flash of hurt swept through him. “If we’re going to sleep together, I want it to be real. Us. Not some means to an end.” Alex looked away from him, seeming to bite his tongue. “What are you thinking?” Alex was right when he called him out for making assumptions about Forrest. And maybe this communication thing worked better than guessing.

“Will it ever be ‘us’? Isn’t all of this a means to an end?” Michael’s heart panged with hurt. Hadn’t he made his feelings clear that night they saw the vision?

“We came here for protection, true. But even if it was safer to be apart, I don’t think I could stay away from you.” Alex shoved his seat back and jumped up, groaning as he ran his hands through his hair. He paced around the kitchen, sounding angry but Michael couldn’t miss the way his heart fluttered.

“Stop. You can’t keep talking like that.” Alex yelled. Michael stood slowly and slipped his hands into his pockets as he stepped toward Alex.

“Like what?”

“Like you fucking care about me!” Alex spun to face him again, glaring. “You say these things that I don’t know what to do with! And your damn heart…”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I care? That I’ve cared for the last ten years?” Alex stepped back as Michael moved forward. Eventually Alex’s back hit the counter. His eyes jumped everywhere except to Michael’s face until he was standing right in front of him.

“Don’t…” he mumbled out halfheartedly.

“Only if you stop lying to yourself.”

Michael trapped him between his arms, his shallow breaths brushing over his lips. He kept leaning forward slowly. If Alex really wanted him to stop he would. But instead of pushing him away, Alex’s hands landed on his hips. His fingers trembled and Michael watched his eyelashes flutter closed. Their foreheads pressed together. Michael could feel both of their hearts racing as their lips brushed over each other.

A loud knocking on the front door made them jump apart. They both panted as they watched each other. Michael waited for the person to go away, his fingers twitching as the desire to touch Alex only grew. More knocking, then a voice.

“Alex! Michael! Open up,” Maria called. They were both frozen. Michael replayed the conversation they just had in his head. He couldn’t believe Isobel would actually send her.

Alex moved first. Composing his face and hurrying to open the door. Michael stared at the space on the counter. The squeak of the door opening made him turn around. He could only hope his face wasn’t covered in guilt.

Maria pulled Alex into a hug. He held her tightly for a moment, a gentle smile settling on his face.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you. But why are you here?” Alex asked.

“Isobel said you two were dawdling on figuring out your visions so I’m here to help. I am a psychic after all,” she said, winking. She looked toward Michael and he could almost watch her thought process play out on her face. How she was supposed to react to seeing him. But eventually she just grinned and moved further into the cabin, looking around.

“This place is much nicer than I was led to believe. How long have you kept this a secret, Manes? Why didn’t we use this to get drunk and smoke in high school?” Alex just laughed and shook his head.

“Uh, probably because in high school, Jim Valenti still used it regularly and he was the sheriff.”

“Got a point there.” Maria shoved the blankets and pillow to one side of the couch before plopping down. “Michael I sincerely hope you aren’t making Alex sleep out here on the couch.” Michael just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Actually Alex sleeps on the floor. No bed in this place.” Her look of disapproval just made him smile more. “Come on DeLuca, who do you take me for?” She just shrugged and crossed her legs.

“Apart from the sleeping arrangements, did you bring a book or something to help us decipher the visions?” Michael watched as Alex tried to hide the fidgeting of his hands. His own heart rate speeding up to match.

“I did bring books but I just figured you could tell me what the visions were and I could point out common metaphors and connections. It would make things go a lot faster then all of us sitting here in silence reading.”

Alex glanced at Michael. They had agreed to tell Isobel. Did they really want to make this leap? He thought on his feet. He wanted Alex to make the decision about when to tell her. They were best friends after all.

“When did you get so close to my cousin anyway? You two always hated each other.” Now, he could have been wrong but he swore he saw her blush. She shrugged it off quickly.

“Hate is a strong word, Guerin. And since all this curse stuff, she’s been weirdly helpful and almost nice.” Alex sat down next to her on the couch while Michael plopped down in the rocking chair across from them.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Michael was trying to control how often he looked at Alex, only noticing it because Maria was there. She glanced between the two of them and sighed before pulling a book from the bag she had brought with her.

“We can sit here all day. But I’m not leaving until we figure this out.” Alex scratched his head before taking a breath and speaking.

“It’s just… the visions are… Personal. You shouldn’t be subject to that,” he said, trying to dissuade her.

“Look. I know you two better than anyone. Nothing you tell me could possibly be that bad.”

“It’s not bad, per say…” Alex trailed off.

“The visions aren’t us. They’re the original pair of Samuel and Thomas. And their feelings for each other… they’re intense,” Michael continued for him. Maria raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

“What’s your point?”

“It’s often a lot of stuff that wouldn’t be talked about…” Alex tried again.

“Oh for fucks sake,” she exclaimed. Both Michael and Alex jumped at the outburst. They shared a surprised look. “Sop walking on eggshells around me. I love you both. Truly. But watching you try to spare my feelings by hiding your own just makes it that much more obvious.”

Alex wrung his hands together, refusing to meat Michael’s eyes. He could only sigh and face Maria again, who just looked annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I should know better than to hide things from you.” She just grinned and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“You already know what it is don’t you? This consummation?” Michael just nodded. Maria sighed and pushed herself up from the couch. “Well then get your ass on the phone with Isobel because quite frankly, I’m done dealing with her pacing and ranting about what a terrible team player you are.” The floorboards squeaked under her boots as she moved toward the kitchen.

Michael looked back over to Alex. His eyes were focused on something a million miles away. His emotions swirled around him, as though he were trying to keep them to himself. Everything was out in the open. They had been called out by the one person they were both lying to.

“You guys keep any food or do I have to make it?” Maria asked as she opened the fridge. Michael stood and moved to the cabinets, shuffling through them. He finally found the one with the snack food and stepped to the side.

“There’s some protein bars and cookies in here but otherwise you have to make the food.”

-

Maria hung around for the day. She didn’t press for more information about the consummation but the looks she was shooting at both of them made Alex’s nerves spike every time. She knew. There was no way that she didn’t.

She didn’t seem mad. Quite the opposite actually. She seemed lighter and more free than he had seen her in a while. The stress of trying to figure out this cure was taking toll on all of them and her most of all. Alex knew that Maria loved both of them. He was sure having the two people she’s closest to in constant danger of dying wasn’t an easy thing to deal with.

Michael had gone grocery shopping. Alex offered to come with and every time Michael said no and left without waiting for him to respond. It was annoying but he was sure the reason would be something about his protection.

Instead he and Maria played cards. She had always been weirdly good at poker.

“There’s no way you aren’t cheating,” Alex joked, tossing his cards to the table.

“Sorry babe. This is all natural talent.” He rolled his eyes at her and pushed the small pile of quarters toward her.

“I guess I should just be happy you didn’t want to play strip poker.” She fluttered her eyelashes to an exaggerated degree.

“As beautiful as you are Alex, you’re not really my type anymore.” Alex just snorted and started shuffling the deck again.

Another few games brought just as much success as the others. That is to say, ‘none.’ Maria let herself do a small happy dance that Alex noticed resembled Liz. They had been hanging out a lot more and he felt terrible for how little he saw them.

“Hey…” Alex started hesitantly. Maria’s expression turned serious almost instantly. She placed the cards to side and leaned forward.

“It’s ok you know.” Alex met her gaze. She just smiled before continuing, “It’s ok that you like him. I probably knew somewhere deep down that we weren’t meant to last. He was always just out of reach. Holding something back.” He rushed to shake his head and he grabbed her hand.

“No. Michael loves you. And he will always love with everything he has.” Her sad smile broke his heart. The guilt ate at his gut. He couldn’t do this to her. He and Michael couldn’t do this to her.

“As true as that may be, it’s hard to give everything when you’ve already given it to someone else.”

“Maria…”

“And that’s ok, ya know? I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy. And if you are happy together then who am I to tell you ‘no?’”

Alex stood and moved to stand next to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from her chair and into a hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist firmly. He smiled against her hair, wondering how he got so lucky to have her as a best friend. She pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

“Someone is going to come along and give you the world.” She chuckled and straightened her back.

“Oh please. No one needs to give it to me when I can just get it myself.” Alex laughed and hugged her again.

The sun dipped below the horizon, splashing vibrant purples and pinks across the sky, eventually fading to blue-black. Alex pulled Maria outside to the fire pit in the back of the house. He was building a log cabin out of logs when he heard the rumble of Michael’s truck. Maria offered to go help him with the groceries and left Alex to light the fire.

A gentle breeze blew across the desert, tangling his hair. He would need to cut it soon. He wasn’t technically out of the service and that demanded he keep it a certain length, even if he liked it a bit longer.

He picked up a fire starter and laughed at himself. If he really wanted to, he could do without it. But he did like the convenience of not needing to survive. He crouched down and picked up the lighter after placing some small kindling in with the starter. It burned fast and jumped to the nearby logs. Alex just watched as the flames licked up the sides of the mini cabin he had built.

Dizziness swept over him, making him fall backwards into the dirt. The fire seemed to burn brighter as the black started to creep in at the edges of his vision…

-

Thomas stared into the fire, the warmth permeating into his bones. His father was going to be angry but he didn’t really care. Since that night Samuel had first kissed him, it was all he could think about. Samuel hadn’t made another attempt either. They spent as much time as they could together but that was it.

Samuel had convinced him to sneak out and there he was. But nothing had happened. The fire snapped and Thomas glanced up to the other man. He worked on skinning a rabbit he had caught for dinner.

“I’m sorry you have to eat peasant food when you’re with me,” Samuel said, making a cut to remove the insides.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I never think to bring you a real dinner.”

The silence stretched a bit longer. Eventually, Samuel was tying the rabbit to a stick and placing it over the fire. He picked up a scrap of fabric, wiping the blood from his hands. He came to sit next to Thomas, watching the flames dance.

“Samuel… Why are we here?” He asked hesitantly. Samuel shifted next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I just wanted to be with you in a place where we don’t have to hide.” Thomas wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. He fought against the grin that threatened to overtake his face.

“And yet it feels like we are hiding,” he said, only half joking. A beat passed before Samuel reached around him to pull him close. His lips pressed to his hair gently. Thomas sucked in a breath, the heat on his cheeks no longer from the fire.

“Then don’t hide. Tell me what you want.” Thomas looked up at his best friend. He was in love with this man.

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

Samuel moved slowly. Trailing his hands over his arms and up his neck to rest on his face, cupping his jaw. Samuel leaned forward, just barely brushing his lips against Thomas’. They both sighed at that first touch. With Samuel’s breath tickling his face, Thomas leaned forward.

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest the longer they stayed pressed together. Eventually Samuel pulled back and Thomas let out a small whine. It wasn’t enough.

“Again.”

He felt the smile on Samuel’s lips when they pressed against his again. It was firmer this time as Thomas wrapped his arms around Samuel’s waist. They pulled at each other. Bodies searching for any way to get closer.

Thomas ended up on his back, the beautiful man hovering over him. Samuel made sure to press the whole length of his body against his. He kissed him again, rocking his hips slowly.

They were so lost in each other, Thomas hadn’t realized just how close to the fire they were. He grabbed at what he thought would be dirt and grass but a red hot burn made him yelp and shove Samuel away from him.

He gasped and gripped his hand to his chest, tears threatening to fall. He cursed under his breath as his hand throbbed in pain.

“Follow me. Now.” Samuel demanded, grabbing his arm.

He pulled him along for a couple minutes before the sound of running water could be heard. A small creek glittered in the moonlight. Samuel yanked him to the ground again, shoving his burned hand into the cold water. Thomas hissed but the cool water began to ease the burning of his hand.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” Samuel said quietly. Thomas just shook his head.

“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention either.” Thomas reached up with his free hand to brush some curls out of his face. “You are the only thing I can ever focus on.” He turned his head into his palm, kissing it.

“I would take this injury for you if I could.”

-

Alex yelped and scrambled away from the fire. He blinked rapidly as the past fell away and was replaced with the desert of New Mexico. His left hand burned. The same one as Thomas. The one that his father crushed on Michael.

He looked down at his palm. It wasn’t bad but it would be difficult to use. Before his eyes, the red started to vanish until it was like it had never been there. Alex ground his teeth together and pushed himself up, running inside the cabin.

Maria was watching Michael in both amazement and horror. Michael’s grimace as he watched the burn appear pissed Alex off more than anything. The problem was that he had no one to be mad at. The Gods? Tessa? Himself?

Alex clenched his fists and hurried wordlessly over to Michael, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the sink, just like he did on the first day. He turned on the cold water, forcing his hand under the stream.

“Did you see the vision?” Alex asked quietly.

“Yea,” was his only response.

“You two just… shared a vision?” Maria stammered out. Alex looked back at her but she was focused on Michael’s burnt palm. Were the visions going to become a regular thing? Now that they were more connected to their past lives, would the spirits become restless as they demanded to see their proclaimed soulmate?

“How long was I zoned out?” Michael asked her. She shook her head and squared her shoulders.

“A couple minutes maybe? What was the vision?” She tried to hide they way her voice wanted to shake. Alex smiled at her and shook his head.

“We’ll tell you another time. I think you might need time to process what you just saw.”

“No! I’m here to help you with this exactly so…” she trailed off as her eyes fell to Michael’s hand again. Michael shut the water off and wrapped his hand in a towel as Alex pulled Maria toward the living room.

“Maria, listen to me. This is a lot. Knowing it happens is one thing. Watching it happen is another.” She nodded slowly. “You’re welcome to stay the night…”

“No. I should go home… I… I need to talk to Isobel about this.” Alex wanted to question but he figured now wasn’t the best time. She pulled her shoes on in silence, only looking back when Michael came to stand next to Alex. His hand was wrapped in bandages, covering old and new wounds alike.

“You don’t have to go,” Michael tried one last time. She just shook her head and smiled sadly at them.

“I do. I’ll be back soon.” Then she vanished.

They listened to her truck kick up dirt as she pulled away. Alex jumped when Michael’s hand touched his arm gently but he didn’t pull away. Everything that had happened just before Maria showed up still stuck in his mind.

He had wanted Michael so bad that he forgot that it might not be real.

“Will these visions show up more now?” he asked softly. Michael sighed.

“I don’t know.” Alex turned to face him, trailing his gaze down his body to his bandaged hand.

He took it gently, turning it so his palm was up. He ran his fingers over it gently, careful not to push too hard. Before he knew what he was doing, Alex lifted his hand to his lips, kissing his palm.

[taexual]

can you do 5 and 55 for skz jisung maybe?

   jisung | 1.5k w. (my god someone stop me, that’s a whole fic)

“why do you hate me?” + “shut up and kiss me already.”

“would it kill you to just smile?” changbin asked, sighing for the tenth time since you arrived at chan’s party. you couldn’t help being in a bad mood – that got even worse when you ran into jisung by the door, and the two of you got into one of your usual unnecessary and borderline childish squabbles – and your friend was getting sick of it. “it’s a party, you know.”

“well, it’s not very fun,” you snapped back and regretted it as soon as your eyes landed on the host of the night, on his way to say hi to you, “don’t tell chan i said that. it’s actually good, i saw a chocolate cake in the kitchen. i’m just being a—hey!”

“hey, guys!” chan said, giving you a hug. his good-natured smile and bright eyes did not suspect the distress you’ve been through when you ran into jisung. “thank you so much for coming.”

“thank you for inviting me,” you said, finally obeying changbin’s previous request and giving chan a genuine smile. “looks like the party’s already in full swing.”

“yeah, but we’re really just getting started. jisung and i just finished setting up the dj booth in the living room,” chan said and mistook your wide eyes for surprise, “i know! it’s a small room but we got rid of the couch – hyunjin is thinking of moving it to our room – and it’s not that bad now. you should come see!”

“i—” responding was really pointless as chan was already dragging you past the crowds of people in the hallway and into the living room.

the boys really did use the room up to its full potential – removing not just the couch but every other piece of furniture, too – and it looked more like a night club with a somewhat limited amount of dancing space than a living room inside of an actual house.

“wow! this is amazing,” you exclaimed, truly impressed. you were going to say something else but then you saw jisung across the room and it immediately triggered your fight-or-flight response. “well, this was great! i’ll go say hi to minho, yeah? i haven’t seen him in a while—”

“hey!” jisung’s voice stopped you. for all you knew, he could have been addressing chan, who was still standing next to you, but something in his tone told you that he was really talking to you.

“what?” you turned back around to face him.

“can i talk to you?”

you glanced at chan for help but he just shrugged his shoulders. “we’re talking now.”

jisung groaned. “in private.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. just the thought of going somewhere with him sounded ridiculous. “i don’t think so.”

“alright,” jisung shrugged his shoulders, knowing you’d change your mind as soon as he continued, “let me ask you here, then. why do you hate me?”

you saw chan raise his eyebrows through your peripherals, and then noticed other people glance at you curiously, too – they could clearly hear everything but they didn’t want to make their eavesdropping obvious.

“on second thought, private doesn’t sound that bad,” you decided much to jisung’s joy. “where’s that couch from the living room? let’s go there.”

he hesitated.

“it’s outside by the back door. there was no space for it anywhere else,” he said and promptly ignored chan’s gasp – clearly, the poor boy wasn’t expecting the couch to leave the house. “why don’t we just go to my room?”

his room was the last place you thought you’d go to tonight but talking in the middle of the party seemed like the worse alternative so you gave in with a dramatically exaggerated sigh, “fine.”

his room ended up being surprisingly light and spacious – you didn’t know why you expected him to live in a literal cave – but you didn’t have a lot of time to look around as jisung demanded yet again, “so? why is it?”

“do you want me to be honest?” you asked, unsure why he was suddenly wondering about your lack of patience towards him when he didn’t seem to mind it before. “because i don’t know where to start. maybe it’s because you’re always so full of yourself. you always act like you’re too good to actually talk to me—”

“what?” he interrupted. “when have i ever acted like that?”

“what are you talking about?” you almost laughed. “you always act like that. the first time we met, you straight up left the room. how do you think that made me feel?”

“i—”

“not to mention, you always make a huge deal out of me coming over as if i’m the biggest nuisance in your life,” you continued, not letting him cut in because you were afraid to sound like his indifference towards you had hurt you – even though it really had, considering that changbin had introduced you to jisung in hopes of setting you two up. “you always roll your eyes around me and, oh! you have never actually talked to me in all the time that we’ve known each other. not once. so, it really should be me asking why you hate me.”

jisung had no witty comments,. “i don’t.”

“yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes and turned around. obviously, he wasn’t taking you seriously and you didn’t want to waste any more time in his presence. “this was a great talk. i’m going to go back to the—”

“the truth is, i actually like you a lot.”

you froze and did not dare to turn back around. “you—what?”

“i… i’ve liked you since before i met you. changbin and chan always talked about you and, this one time, i jokingly asked them to show me a picture of you and they did, and you were really—you were beautiful,” jisung explained and his words sent your whole cardiovascular system into overdrive. you could almost feel the blood in your veins stop and listen. “so, i don’t know, i developed this dumb, childish crush on you and i told changbin about it. i thought it’d go away on its own but then bin brought you over to introduce you to us, and—”

“you left the room,” you said, finally turning around. you were unaware of the surprised expression on your face but jisung saw it and he hated how much his confession had shocked you. “you said you had somewhere to be when we met for that first time.”

“yeah,” he said. “because i didn’t know what else to do.”

you frowned. “talking to me was an option.”

he shook his head. “as if i could manage to say anything when all i wanted to do was just kiss you.”

your brain had successfully short-circuited as soon as the words left his lips. “oh.”

“so that’s why i left,” he continued, knowing that he had to finish explaining himself now that he’d finally gathered enough courage to start. “t-that’s why i always avoided you. i just—i didn’t know how to act around you. i didn’t like to have a crush on you. being incapable of simple social interactions made me feel stupid, and—”

“you’re not stupid—” you tried to say but jisung was on a roll and he physically could not stop talking.

“—i wanted this crush to go away so i tried to stay away from you as much as possible,” he spoke, “but it didn’t go away. if anything, it only seemed to get stronger until it reached a point where i didn’t even know what i was doing with myself anymore, i—”

you had unconsciously walked closer to him as you tried to get him to focus on you. “jisung—”

“—i can’t stop thinking about you and it literally feels like i’ve lost my mind,” he continued, avoiding your eyes now that you were closer. he was starting to suffocate but he couldn’t stop talking, “i hate that. i’ve wanted to tell you about this since i’ve met you but look what happened, i don’t—”

“shit, jisung, please!” you lost the remaining bits of patience but your loud voice finally got him to look at you. “just shut up and kiss me already.”

the request took him off guard – but just for a moment because he knew how much time he’d already wasted avoiding you – and, for the first time since he saw that picture of you, jisung took a step closer to you, closing the space between your bodies and your souls, as he completed the one goal in his life he never thought he’d complete: he kissed you. and it was everything he’d imagined and more.

“if you hadn’t avoided me so much,” you whispered when the lack of air caused you to pull away, “i would have told you that i’d asked changbin to introduce us because i liked you, too.”

“shit,” jisung swore, his heart racing. “i’m going to kiss you again because i can’t not do that. and then you can spend every moment of your foreseeable future telling me what a dumbass i’ve been.”

you laughed, breaking the kiss. “i’d rather spend every moment of my foreseeable future kissing you.”

“add that to the list of things i never thought i’d hear you say to me.”

“kiss me, you dumbass.”

he was the one to laugh this time as he leaned into you again, his lips resting – and settling down – against yours.

[sunmoonandeddie]

take it easy, romeo

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,086

summary: The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

prompt: “Take it easy, Romeo.”

warnings: swearing, violence, sassy!Soldat

a/n: This was written for @moonbeambucky‘s 5K Writing Challenge!  Congratulations!  Also, this was the fic that was meant to have a song attached to it, too, for the aesthetic that the Guardians of the Galaxy fight scenes and Thor: Ragnarok fight scenes have, but it didn’t end up happening.  If you feel like trying it, turn on ‘I Want to Break Free’ by Queen right when the flashback starts.  But like I said, it didn’t really end up happening.  Maybe next time.  Anyways, feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!

The Asset was fucking tired.  The mission should’ve been over by now.  Take out three dumbasses.  Easy enough, right?

Apparently fucking not.

There’s something vaguely familiar about the redhead, but he can’t quite place her.  Like he knew he definitely shot her at one point.  Hell, he could even see it in her face as she aimed her gun at him. She did not like him.

He really regrets not killing her as she shoots his goggles, rendering them useless.  He fell back, sitting on the ground before pulling off the goggles.  He tossed them to the side before getting back to his feet.

“Она у меня. Найди его,” he said to the HYDRA agent that stood beside him.  The sun was beating down on him, sweat on his brow.  His all black attire really wasn’t doing him any favors.

He barely registered the car he landed on top of as he jumped from the bridge, his focus entirely on finding the redhead.  Reloading his gun, he scanned the area ahead of him.  Civilians were running amuck, trying to get out of the warpath he was on and taking shelter out of his sight.

Good.

Civilians were a bitch to take out when they got in his way, when they tried to play hero.  What they realized rather quickly was that there was no stopping him.  He was a force of nature.  A hurricane.  A tornado.

The phone trick was smart.  He’d give her that.

However, he only grew more annoyed when she wrapped her thighs around his head, twisting until he could slam her against a car.  The metal creaked under the impact and he flipped her into the car on his other side.

And then the thing she threw at his arm?  The little electric thing that short circuited his arm?

Yeah, he was fucking ready to end this shit.

Once his arm was working again, it was easy enough to catch up with her.  The shot to the shoulder slowed her down, giving him enough time to come up behind her.

But then the star-spangled idiot had to fucking get in the way of his shot.  The sound of his metal fist meeting the infamous shield reverberated through the air.  To be honest, he didn’t quite understand the logistics of it.  Somehow, he kept blocking his bullets even though the shield was the size of a dinner plate compared to the sheer size of the blond man. It also surprised him how good he was at hand-to-hand combat.  It had been years since he met an opponent that was able to hold their own against him, and both the redhead and the blond had done just that.

The Asset stumbled as the blond flipped him, tearing off his mask in the process.  He turned back to the man, watching as shock and confusion rippled over his face.

“Bucky?” He said, his voice filled with wonderment.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”  He aimed to take a killing shot, cursing as, yet again, someone interrupted him.  This time it was the god damn bird man.  Once he was back on his feet, he raised his gun, only for a bomb to fly out of nowhere and hit a truck.  The explosion gave him enough cover to duck behind a few cars, watching the three targets look around in bewilderment.

“Steve!”

He perked up at the sound of a familiar voice, watching as the blond turned.

The most beautiful woman in the entire world ran up to him.  He couldn’t look away as the three surrounded her.  His Y/N.  Even two wipes and being frozen hadn’t been able to tear her from his mind.  He still remembered her every time he came out of it.

Not that he ever let his handlers in on that bit of information.

“Y/N?!  What the hell are you doing here?!” The redhead asked, dropping the gun that was still in her hands.

She looked around the cars in front of him, and he knew that she was searching for him.  “I got a distress call,” she said, before turning to the broad man in front of her.  “You can’t hurt him,” she begged ‘Steve,’ and the way that she was clinging to the man’s arm made the Asset prickle.

“Why not?” The bird man demanded.  He was scanning the area with his eyes, standing protectively by his friends.

“Because I know him,” Y/N said, her nails digging into Steve’s arm.  “Please. You can’t hurt him.”

“I know him, too.”

He knew he needed to leave, but he found himself frozen to the spot as a he drowned in a world of memories.  He only managed to get himself to leave when he heard the sirens approaching, knowing that HYDRA had arrived.

The Asset looked up as the door of his cell opened, a fighting to drag a woman inside.  She was kicking and screaming, demanding that he let her go.  She was tossed unceremoniously to the cold concrete like a rag doll.

“You have your orders,” the agent said.  The Asset was familiar with him, recognizing his face even though he’d been wiped a few times since meeting him.

He’d found him to be the human personification of actual shit.

The woman scrambled up, trying to make it out the door, but it shut with a resounding slam before she could.  Her hands hit desperately against the steel door as she heard the lock flip into place on the other side.  “Let me out!”

“They can’t hear you.”

She whirled around, clearly a little startled by the sound of his voice.

He was sitting on the cot on the other side of the room.  His bloodied gear still adorned his body from the mission he’d gotten back from a few hours before.  He’d been more than a little confused when they’d stuck him in his cell instead of sending him to cryo.  He didn’t think he had another mission coming up or anything.

But maybe she was the reason for that.

“That door is reinforced steel.  Nothing gets in, and no one gets out,” he said.  His voice came out like gravel.  It’d been a while since he’d used English.  His eyes were locked on her, cold and brutal.  “Trust me, I’ve tried.”  When she just looked at him for a long time, he asked, “What orders did they give you?”

The woman swallowed, looking very much like a cornered animal.  “I-I’m supposed to look at your arm,” she said. Her eyes flickered to the metal appendage, the steel glinting in the harsh fluorescent light.

The Asset grunted and took off his jacket, leaving him in his tank top. It would give her much easier access to it, and the sooner she started the sooner she’d be done.

The sooner she could stop looking at him like he was going to snap her neck.

And, yeah, okay—he could.  All it would take is a flick of his wrist, and then she’d be dead.  She’d be left lying on the cold concrete of his cell before HYDRA agents stormed in to dispose of the body.

But that didn’t mean that he would.  Fuck, he still had some manners, for crying out loud.

When she didn’t move, he raised his eyebrows.  “Well?”

With a jolt, she moved to sit on the cot next to him.  She tentatively sat down next to him, though there was still a solid foot and a half of space between them.  Her hands reached for his left arm, though she stopped in midair.

He wondered if she realized that she was holding her breath.  “I’m not going to fucking kill you, you know,” he snapped.

A blush crept over her cheeks and down past the neckline of her sweatshirt. “I’m sorry,” she said.  Even so, it took her about another twenty seconds or so to actually find the courage to touch his arm.

It surprised him how gentle her touch was.  He hadn’t been touched kindly in so long.  As her hands carefully ran over the metal, his eyes roamed her face. He wasn’t even attempting to be sneaky about it.

She was beautiful.  But, no. Because beautiful was too simple a word. She was striking, enchanting, radiant, bewitching, exquisite.

Heavenly. That was the word.  She was heavenly.

“What’s your name?” He asked, his words coming out much softer than he expected.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and he was startled by how vibrant they were.  “Y/N,” she said, before looking back down at his arm.  Despite the shakiness in her fingers, it was clear that she knew what she was doing as she figured out how to open it.  “This is a brilliant piece of technology,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything. He flinched as she touched a wire, her eyes lighting up.  “There it is.”

“How’d you know what to look for?” He asked curiously.  The Asset wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to with the other scientists that messed with his arm, let alone ask questions.  Something told him that she would welcome the questions, love them even.

And sure enough, a smile tugged at her lips as she continued to analyze the different aspects in the metal appendage.  “I was told that there was a glitch in the sensitivity on a few of your fingers. It wasn’t hard to figure out that there was a connection problem within the wires.  And honestly, I’m kind of surprised that none of their people figured it out.”

“You’re not one of them?”

The smile faded as she pressed her lips into a thin line.

Well, on one hand, it was a relief to know that she wasn’t a part of the demon organization that had turned him into the monster he was.  But on the other, he didn’t want her to be subjected to their torture.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  Something inside his chest constricted at the thought of what they both knew would happen when they didn’t think she was useful anymore.

She just cleared her throat.  “It’s fine. Things happen.  I knew that when I joined SHIELD.”  A fake smile plastered across her face. ��“You know, you still haven’t told me your name.”

“I don’t have one.”  He winced a little as he realized how awful that sounded.

Y/N seemed more than a little taken aback as she scowled at the mess of wires.  “Everyone has a name.”

“I’m usually called Soldat or Asset.”

She leaned back, a pout on her lips.  “Well, that’s stupid.  I’m not calling you either of those.”

And okay.  That was kind of fucking adorable.

“What’s something you like?  I need a nickname or something for you.”

“I…”  He huffed as he tried to think of something.  He hadn’t been asked a question like that in such a long time.  Possibly never.  He’d been out of cryo long enough that if he thought hard enough, he’d get little flashes of memories.  It usually hurt too much so he didn’t attempt it.  His brows furrowed as the cover of a book flashed across his mind.  Romeo and Juliet.  “I…  I like Shakespeare.”

She paused, blinking up at him.  “Really?  What’s your favorite?  Much Ado About Nothing?  Taming of the Shrew?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” he admitted, a little sheepishly.

She looked at him for a long moment, a new sort of fondness in her eyes. “Okay, Romeo,” she said, grinning as his cheeks went red.

He didn’t even think he could blush anymore.  Thought he’d lost the ability sometime in the fifties or sixties.

But her presence was magic.

Time passed as it always did, the days turning into weeks, which turned into months, and her kindness never wavered.  Every day, they brought her to his cell, and every day, she greeted him with a warm smile.

It utterly astounded him, and it didn’t help that everything about her sent his heart racing.

Yeah, he didn’t care for that shit at all.

“Romeo, Romeo—Wherefore art thou Romeo?” She cooed as she was shoved into the cell once again.

“Y/N,” he said sternly, even though there was a grin fighting to take over his face.  At this point, he’d remembered his name, but he didn’t really care.  He liked hearing her little nickname for him.  It reminded him of the hopeless romantic he’d once been, how he’d take out girl after girl, hoping for a connection that never came.

Of course, it would come after he’d been brainwashed and turned into the world’s most feared assassin.

She sat on the bed next to him as she always did, opening up his arm. Her soft humming filled the room. Over the past few months, she’d made tweak after tweak, adjusting wires and gears to help his arm function the best that it ever had.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

Y/N looked up at him in surprise, her eyebrows raising.  “Don’t be silly,” she said as she tested out a few of the gears near his elbow.

“I’m serious,” he said, his eyes glancing up towards the camera in the corner of the room.  It couldn’t pick up sound, he knew that much.  Otherwise, they would’ve gotten in trouble a long time ago.  “You don’t belong here.”

“And neither do you.”  She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared him down with glittering e/c eyes. “I’m not leaving unless you come with me.”

Well, isn’t that just dandy?

The Asset knew that there was no way the both of them would be able to escape.  His captors wouldn’t stop looking for him if he managed to get out.  But if he pretended to give into her one condition, then he could get her to a safe space.  He’d get her far enough that she’d be out of HYDRA’s clutches before returning to them. He’d tell them that she somehow got control of him and ordered him to get her out, only for him to break free of it and kill her.  They’d be none the wiser.  They’d praise him, their precious Soldat, for returning to them, for knowing where he belonged.

And knowing that she was safe would be enough.

He planned it to a ‘t.’  He knew exactly what would happen down to the last second.  Getting her out of the base was easy enough.  She was on a mission with him, since he’d the target of his last one to fuck up his arm enough that his handlers thought she needed to be with him to repair it.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he’d whispered in her ear. He had waited until she did so to take out every agent with them, including the driver.  The crash that had resulted had been painless, more just a little jolt since they hadn’t been going very fast when they hit the tree.  Reaching into one of the agent’s pockets, he snatched the tranquilizer that was meant to be used on him if he got out of line, hiding it in his jacket before telling her it was okay to look.

“You’re good at that,” she said while peeking through her fingers.  Somehow, she still managed to find the time to tease him, despite being surrounded by dead bodies in a van that now smelled like iron and sweat.  Blood splattered the seats and windows in front of them.

He rolled his eyes as he put his gun back into its holster. After climbing out of the backseat, he takes a moment to help her out.  Even after her feet hit the ground, he doesn’t let go of her hand.  The soft skin of her palm felt too good against his to let go so soon.

“Where are we going?” She asked, a yawn tearing from her lips. She was clinging to his arm as her eyes took in the trees around them.  He’d made sure to kill the agents in the middle of the woods, under the dark of night.

“There’s a safehouse in the city we were in,” he said, having already located it during the mission he’d finished earlier in the day. It’d taken him an extra thirty minutes and hacking into the target’s laptop, but he’d found one.

What he didn’t tell her was that it was a women’s only safehouse, and that only she would be the one staying.

He could see the city lights up ahead as the woods began to thin out.  He knew that his time with her was coming to an end.  Stopping abruptly, he pulled her into his arms.

“Woah, take it easy, Romeo,” she said, though she sunk into his embrace as though they’d done this a million times before.

The Asset held onto her as tightly as he could without breaking her spine.  He was trying to memorize the feeling of her in his arms, so that he could remember it later, when he no longer had her close.

That is, if they didn’t wipe it from him.

“I—”  He broke off, the words catching in his throat.  He couldn’t say it.  He couldn’t say the three words that he wanted to because he knew that she would say them back and then he wouldn’t be able to convince himself to leave.  He’d stay with her and then they’d find her and more than likely kill her.  “You… You know I care about you, yes?”

She pulled away just enough, a frown tugging on her lips. “Of course, I do.”

“And…  You know how I feel about you?”

Her eyes softened and she nodded.  “You know I feel the same,” she murmured, before her brows furrowed as she took in his pained expression.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his hand grabbing the tranquilizer from his jacket.  The cap was flicked off and the needle was in her neck before she could respond.  Her mouth dropped into an ‘o’ as the liquid filled her veins.  Her eyes flashed with betrayal and hurt before they fluttered shut, and she fell limp in his arms.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated as he picked her up, carrying her bridal style.

The shelter was easy to find, though he knew it was hidden well from ordinary eyes.  It would be enough to hide her from HYDRA, since he would make sure that they wouldn’t be searching.

The woman who opened the door started to slam it right back in his face, no doubt terrified by the Winter Soldier gear he was still sporting, and the blood that covered it.

But he took a step forward, blue eyes flashing.  “Wait!” He said, his voice colored with desperation. He glanced down at the woman in his arms, the woman he’d fallen in love with after years of thinking he wasn’t capable of feeling anything other than anger and resentment.  It brought the older woman’s eyes down to her and she hesitated in shutting him out.  “Please.”

Maybe it was the way his voice cracked or the pure desperation in his eyes, but she nodded and opened the door wider to let him in. “Come on,” she said, shutting the door behind him before leading him down the hall.

The shelter was quiet, though he could hear sounds of life coming from behind the doors that lined the hall.  Someone was watching a movie, someone was humming.  Little things.  And he could see Y/N here, padding the halls and talking quietly with the other women.  Safe and sound.

The woman opened up a door, revealing an empty room.  It was small, but it had a bed and a dresser. He carefully set Y/N down on the mattress, taking in a shaky breath.  He knew he was going to have to say goodbye and leave her behind.

“I’ll give you a minute,” the woman said, closing the door to give him some privacy.

The Asset’s throat tightened as he brushed her hair away from her eyes.  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, tears springing to his eyes.  “I’m really sorry about the whole tranquilizing you thing.  But I’ve gotta make sure that you’re safe, and I can’t do that if I’m with you.”  Her hand was soft in his as he rubbed his thumb across the back.  “I really, really don’t want to leave you.”  He was openly crying now, something he hadn’t done since HYDRA first kidnapped him, torturing him until his mind broke.  “But I’ve gotta go, okay?  I’ve gotta go, and you’ve gotta live your life.  You have to forget about me, because you won’t be safe if you don’t.”  There was a faint knock on the door, and he knew his time was up.  “I love you, Y/N.  I love you so much.  God, I hope you know how much I love you.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The door opened and the woman stuck her head in, saying, “It’s time to go.”

He nodded stiffly, his lips lingering as he kissed her forehead.  When he stood on the front stoop, he turned back to her.  “Please, take care of her,” he said.  He knew his cheeks were red from tears and his eyes were puffy, but he didn’t care.

“I will,” the woman said, her own eyes swimming with unshed tears as she clutched onto the door.

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving behind the love of his life.

The Asset tiptoed around Y/N’s apartment, his heart constricting in his chest as he looked at the pictures that lined the dresser in the bedroom.  There were several of her and the redhead from the bridge, a few of her and the blond he now knew as Steve.

He’d seen her, in the midst of the fight.  Had recognized his Y/N as she fought off HYDRA agents.  He’d felt a rush of pride when she’d taken down several men by herself, feeling a bit of comfort in knowing that she’d worked to learn how to defend herself since he broken her out of the HYDRA base.

He knew that he shouldn’t, but he’d found out where she lived.  It’d been easy enough to find her address, and even easier to get in without anyone noticing anything.  Needless to say, it worried him, and he made a mental note to talk to her about better security.

The front door opened quietly, and he stiffened. From the way she’d reacted when she first saw him on the highway, she wouldn’t kick him out, but there was no way to be sure. Or, she might have company.

Company that might include the bird man or the redhead, who would undoubtedly try to kick his ass if it meant protecting Y/N.

There was also the possibility of her not wanting him anymore.

He could hear her footsteps pause as she took in the living room.  He’d left his gear in a heap, leaving him in just his tight cargo pants and a black tank top.  He’d even toed off his boots, his socked feet quiet on the hardwood floor.

He’d left all his weapons in that heap, and he knew that she would see the amount of trust he had in her.  She would know that he remembered her, that he still felt safe enough to be vulnerable.

Okay, he didn’t really need knives or guns to kill someone, but it was the principle of it.

The Asset held his breath as he heard her come down the hall, heading for the only room with the light on.  There was only one set of footsteps, meaning that she was alone.  The cracked door opened with a whine and he froze as his eyes met hers.

She was just as heavenly as she had been four years ago.

“Romeo,” she breathed, taking a step towards him. “You’re here.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest.  Clearing his throat, he glanced towards the window before looking back at her.  He really wasn’t sure what to say.  “You, uh…  You really should get better security.  It was a little too easy for me to find you.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she leaned against the doorframe, one hand resting on her hip.  “Maybe I wanted you to.”

And fuck, that was the best thing she could’ve ever said.  All his worries about her not wanting him anymore faded away.  “Yeah?”

She nodded as she moved across the room to embrace him. “Yeah.”

[jonathanbelloblog]

Catching Up With: Derek Hill

Derek Hill is the son of America’s first Formula 1 world champion, Phil Hill. Like his father, he is a California native who cut his teeth racing sports cars before heading to Europe to pursue a career in open-wheel racing. Today, Hill stays active on the track in vintage racing events, including the Goodwood Revival, and also participates in many shows, including Rév Auto (revauto.org), which he co-founded. We caught up with Hill, 43, en route to Italy, where he was set to drive a classic Alfa Romeo in the 2018 Mille Miglia.

Automobile Magazine: Last decade, you raced in Formula 3000 in Europe. What was your experience climbing the racing ladder abroad?

Derek Hill: Racing in Europe was as exciting and challenging as it gets. The magnificent circuits like Spa, Monza, Silverstone, and Monaco, just to name a few, were sensational to drive on. The highlight was racing my first full season of Formula 3000 with a French team, [paired with] Sébastien Bourdais, who was in his second season. If there was ever the ultimate racing school, I was immersed in it. It was so extremely challenging and demanded such a high level of mental focus, physical fitness, and a level of grit I can’t imagine I’d have gotten anywhere else.

AM: Your father was the first American F1 champion. Was that helpful or burdensome to you as an aspiring racer?

DH: Being the son of a world champion opened doors, got conversations started, and helped me raise the finances I needed to keep climbing the ranks. Being the “son of” was the biggest reason I ever became a racer, anyway, having been exposed to that world and seeking the thrill and the challenge of it like my father had done. However, I soon realized that it’s a far greater advantage to come from deep family wealth or corporate connections than being a son of a famous driver. I have zero regrets how things turned out. I’m just very grateful I got to race as much as I did and got to continue on in historic racing in a very meaningful way.

AM: Inside Track, the book featuring Phil’s photography from his racing days, is out now. What does it mean to see that project completed?

DH: Inside Track is truly a beautiful three-volume work of art. My father was an exceptional person, and the fact he pursued a hobby of photography during his career was such a gift, it turns out. We had more than 1,000 images on 35mm color Kodachrome to sort through. Thankfully, the book project started years before he passed away, so he was able to go through each image and offer up so much detail for every image.

AM: That must have required some commitment …

DH: It took us years to compile all the interviews and sort through the family archive to get all the accompanying letters, documents, photos, etc., to make it a very thorough and complete homage to his incredible life as a racing driver. It was a massive team effort [with Doug Nye and Steve Dawson], and I still can’t believe it’s done.

AM: You’ve been Master of Ceremonies at the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance for several years now; what’s your favorite part of the role?

DH: Pebble Beach has been a story weaving through my whole life, starting as young as I can remember. I never even imagined being the Master of Ceremonies, but as I continued to stay involved over the years, it was a position that naturally opened up for me. My favorite part is getting to have one of the best seats in the house right in front of the ramp.

AM: It is notoriously difficult for a postwar car to win Best of Show at Pebble. Do you see that changing over the next decade?

DH: Well, we saw it a couple of years ago, and I don’t doubt we’ll see it again soon. There is just something about the prewar era that oozes elegance. What we are going through is a transition to how we interpret the word elegance, which is all about people’s perception. As generations change in the Concours world, so do our tastes.

AM: You’re the rare enthusiast who really embraces both classic and contemporary cars. What can designers of future cars learn from vintage cars?

DH: The cars of the past are such sensory vehicles—the way they look, drive, feel, and the way they sound. Just like any art form, stylistic design in many of the classics was just off the charts. In a world where cars are being built around fuel efficiency targets and with all the safety regulations, designers only have to look back to the past to find inspiration for the subtle styling cues that keep a brand unique and on point. It’s fun to see these subtleties in modern cars, like the Bugatti Chiron.

AM: What cars are in your garage?

DH: My father was a collector of early American classics, and we ended up keeping a few of them. In fact, two of them, a 1918 Packard Town Car and a 1931 Pierce-Arrow, have been in our family since new. I have a diverse and growing list I’d like to own, including a ’50s Maserati A6GCS, a ’73 Porsche 911 RS, a ’74 BMW 3.0CS, a Series II or III Land Rover, an Alfa Romeo 1750 Berlina … this list can go on for another page. For now, I’m driving an Alfa Romeo Stelvio, which, for a family man, fits the bill on many levels.

The post Catching Up With: Derek Hill appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[jesusvasser]

Catching Up With: Derek Hill

Derek Hill is the son of America’s first Formula 1 world champion, Phil Hill. Like his father, he is a California native who cut his teeth racing sports cars before heading to Europe to pursue a career in open-wheel racing. Today, Hill stays active on the track in vintage racing events, including the Goodwood Revival, and also participates in many shows, including Rév Auto (revauto.org), which he co-founded. We caught up with Hill, 43, en route to Italy, where he was set to drive a classic Alfa Romeo in the 2018 Mille Miglia.

Automobile Magazine: Last decade, you raced in Formula 3000 in Europe. What was your experience climbing the racing ladder abroad?

Derek Hill: Racing in Europe was as exciting and challenging as it gets. The magnificent circuits like Spa, Monza, Silverstone, and Monaco, just to name a few, were sensational to drive on. The highlight was racing my first full season of Formula 3000 with a French team, [paired with] Sébastien Bourdais, who was in his second season. If there was ever the ultimate racing school, I was immersed in it. It was so extremely challenging and demanded such a high level of mental focus, physical fitness, and a level of grit I can’t imagine I’d have gotten anywhere else.

AM: Your father was the first American F1 champion. Was that helpful or burdensome to you as an aspiring racer?

DH: Being the son of a world champion opened doors, got conversations started, and helped me raise the finances I needed to keep climbing the ranks. Being the “son of” was the biggest reason I ever became a racer, anyway, having been exposed to that world and seeking the thrill and the challenge of it like my father had done. However, I soon realized that it’s a far greater advantage to come from deep family wealth or corporate connections than being a son of a famous driver. I have zero regrets how things turned out. I’m just very grateful I got to race as much as I did and got to continue on in historic racing in a very meaningful way.

AM: Inside Track, the book featuring Phil’s photography from his racing days, is out now. What does it mean to see that project completed?

DH: Inside Track is truly a beautiful three-volume work of art. My father was an exceptional person, and the fact he pursued a hobby of photography during his career was such a gift, it turns out. We had more than 1,000 images on 35mm color Kodachrome to sort through. Thankfully, the book project started years before he passed away, so he was able to go through each image and offer up so much detail for every image.

AM: That must have required some commitment …

DH: It took us years to compile all the interviews and sort through the family archive to get all the accompanying letters, documents, photos, etc., to make it a very thorough and complete homage to his incredible life as a racing driver. It was a massive team effort [with Doug Nye and Steve Dawson], and I still can’t believe it’s done.

AM: You’ve been Master of Ceremonies at the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance for several years now; what’s your favorite part of the role?

DH: Pebble Beach has been a story weaving through my whole life, starting as young as I can remember. I never even imagined being the Master of Ceremonies, but as I continued to stay involved over the years, it was a position that naturally opened up for me. My favorite part is getting to have one of the best seats in the house right in front of the ramp.

AM: It is notoriously difficult for a postwar car to win Best of Show at Pebble. Do you see that changing over the next decade?

DH: Well, we saw it a couple of years ago, and I don’t doubt we’ll see it again soon. There is just something about the prewar era that oozes elegance. What we are going through is a transition to how we interpret the word elegance, which is all about people’s perception. As generations change in the Concours world, so do our tastes.

AM: You’re the rare enthusiast who really embraces both classic and contemporary cars. What can designers of future cars learn from vintage cars?

DH: The cars of the past are such sensory vehicles—the way they look, drive, feel, and the way they sound. Just like any art form, stylistic design in many of the classics was just off the charts. In a world where cars are being built around fuel efficiency targets and with all the safety regulations, designers only have to look back to the past to find inspiration for the subtle styling cues that keep a brand unique and on point. It’s fun to see these subtleties in modern cars, like the Bugatti Chiron.

AM: What cars are in your garage?

DH: My father was a collector of early American classics, and we ended up keeping a few of them. In fact, two of them, a 1918 Packard Town Car and a 1931 Pierce-Arrow, have been in our family since new. I have a diverse and growing list I’d like to own, including a ’50s Maserati A6GCS, a ’73 Porsche 911 RS, a ’74 BMW 3.0CS, a Series II or III Land Rover, an Alfa Romeo 1750 Berlina … this list can go on for another page. For now, I’m driving an Alfa Romeo Stelvio, which, for a family man, fits the bill on many levels.

The post Catching Up With: Derek Hill appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[eddiejpoplar]

Catching Up With: Derek Hill

Derek Hill is the son of America’s first Formula 1 world champion, Phil Hill. Like his father, he is a California native who cut his teeth racing sports cars before heading to Europe to pursue a career in open-wheel racing. Today, Hill stays active on the track in vintage racing events, including the Goodwood Revival, and also participates in many shows, including Rév Auto (revauto.org), which he co-founded. We caught up with Hill, 43, en route to Italy, where he was set to drive a classic Alfa Romeo in the 2018 Mille Miglia.

Automobile Magazine: Last decade, you raced in Formula 3000 in Europe. What was your experience climbing the racing ladder abroad?

Derek Hill: Racing in Europe was as exciting and challenging as it gets. The magnificent circuits like Spa, Monza, Silverstone, and Monaco, just to name a few, were sensational to drive on. The highlight was racing my first full season of Formula 3000 with a French team, [paired with] Sébastien Bourdais, who was in his second season. If there was ever the ultimate racing school, I was immersed in it. It was so extremely challenging and demanded such a high level of mental focus, physical fitness, and a level of grit I can’t imagine I’d have gotten anywhere else.

AM: Your father was the first American F1 champion. Was that helpful or burdensome to you as an aspiring racer?

DH: Being the son of a world champion opened doors, got conversations started, and helped me raise the finances I needed to keep climbing the ranks. Being the “son of” was the biggest reason I ever became a racer, anyway, having been exposed to that world and seeking the thrill and the challenge of it like my father had done. However, I soon realized that it’s a far greater advantage to come from deep family wealth or corporate connections than being a son of a famous driver. I have zero regrets how things turned out. I’m just very grateful I got to race as much as I did and got to continue on in historic racing in a very meaningful way.

AM: Inside Track, the book featuring Phil’s photography from his racing days, is out now. What does it mean to see that project completed?

DH: Inside Track is truly a beautiful three-volume work of art. My father was an exceptional person, and the fact he pursued a hobby of photography during his career was such a gift, it turns out. We had more than 1,000 images on 35mm color Kodachrome to sort through. Thankfully, the book project started years before he passed away, so he was able to go through each image and offer up so much detail for every image.

AM: That must have required some commitment …

DH: It took us years to compile all the interviews and sort through the family archive to get all the accompanying letters, documents, photos, etc., to make it a very thorough and complete homage to his incredible life as a racing driver. It was a massive team effort [with Doug Nye and Steve Dawson], and I still can’t believe it’s done.

AM: You’ve been Master of Ceremonies at the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance for several years now; what’s your favorite part of the role?

DH: Pebble Beach has been a story weaving through my whole life, starting as young as I can remember. I never even imagined being the Master of Ceremonies, but as I continued to stay involved over the years, it was a position that naturally opened up for me. My favorite part is getting to have one of the best seats in the house right in front of the ramp.

AM: It is notoriously difficult for a postwar car to win Best of Show at Pebble. Do you see that changing over the next decade?

DH: Well, we saw it a couple of years ago, and I don’t doubt we’ll see it again soon. There is just something about the prewar era that oozes elegance. What we are going through is a transition to how we interpret the word elegance, which is all about people’s perception. As generations change in the Concours world, so do our tastes.

AM: You’re the rare enthusiast who really embraces both classic and contemporary cars. What can designers of future cars learn from vintage cars?

DH: The cars of the past are such sensory vehicles—the way they look, drive, feel, and the way they sound. Just like any art form, stylistic design in many of the classics was just off the charts. In a world where cars are being built around fuel efficiency targets and with all the safety regulations, designers only have to look back to the past to find inspiration for the subtle styling cues that keep a brand unique and on point. It’s fun to see these subtleties in modern cars, like the Bugatti Chiron.

AM: What cars are in your garage?

DH: My father was a collector of early American classics, and we ended up keeping a few of them. In fact, two of them, a 1918 Packard Town Car and a 1931 Pierce-Arrow, have been in our family since new. I have a diverse and growing list I’d like to own, including a ’50s Maserati A6GCS, a ’73 Porsche 911 RS, a ’74 BMW 3.0CS, a Series II or III Land Rover, an Alfa Romeo 1750 Berlina … this list can go on for another page. For now, I’m driving an Alfa Romeo Stelvio, which, for a family man, fits the bill on many levels.

The post Catching Up With: Derek Hill appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[psychotherapyconsultants]

What Role Does a Difficult Past Play in Your Life Now?

For many individuals, the past is not past but remains an ever-present influence in their present life. Even though the physical effects of past events often demand more attention, the psychological legacy may be much more difficult to move on from. If past events are processed as experiences to learn from and grow as a person, pain and upset can be transformed into greater wisdom and strength. However, if not resolved, past challenges keep us hooked into the emotional charge of the time.

Loss and Grief

Traumatic events often involve losses like ill health, reduced mobility, lost opportunities, dashed hopes, the loss of the person you might have been, and many others depending on your circumstances. Grieving for what is no longer possible or available is a completely natural response and there is no rule about the length and depth of grief. However, if grief sets in as depression and withdrawal from life, it becomes problematic. “Snapping out of it” is generally not an option, but a gradual and gentle re-engaging with life is paramount.

Trapped by Blame

While blame is a common response to people or circumstances that have caused suffering, it also traps you into emotional bondage to what has been. It keeps you in a state of helpless anger, sometimes even feelings of hate and thoughts of revenge.

Letting go of blame does not condone what happened but liberates you to begin life afresh unburdened by negative ties to the past. To free yourself practice a form of forgiveness that does not require “feeling positive”, but instead reaches for a state of neutrality where what happened is accepted as fact and you allow yourself to begin again with a clean slate.

Stuck in ‘Analysis Paralysis’

The question “Why?” is so seductive that you may be consumed by searching for an explanation for why something happened the way it did. But many events result from being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. If you can’t find a satisfactory explanation for past events, accept the not-knowing, let the past be past and turn to the future.

Poisoned by Hindsight and Regret

Speculating about what you should or could have done in the past is a form of self-sabotage. It keeps you focused on the past instead of the present and future. Usually people do the best they can with what they’ve got at the time. But if you went against your better judgment and intuition, you need to accept that you are a fallible human being like everyone else, forgive yourself and if possible make amends.

Haunted by Memories

Painful memories are difficult to resolve, even more so if they invade your sleep in the form of nightmares and flashbacks. Don’t hesitate to get help if you cannot process them by yourself. Talking therapies alone are generally not effective, as painful events do not only get registered mentally and emotionally, but also leave physical traces in the body’s cells, neural pathways in the brain and energy circuits. You might find practices from Energy Psychology, Energy Medicine, Kinesiology, Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, Yoga and other therapies effective if the practitioner has experience with trauma work.

Suppressing Your Pain.

When past experiences were so painful that processing them is too overwhelming, avoidance behaviours are often adopted as a way out: ignoring or numbing the pain with alcohol, drugs (legal and illegal), sex, workaholism, excessive use of technology etc. However, until you honestly look at your pain, it will hold you in its grip. The only way to resolve painful feelings is to feel and acknowledge them, understand their context and accept them as a wound that may leave scars but does not need to hold you in its grip. Many people achieve this through telling their story in writing, through art or by connecting with others who have overcome similar experiences.

Accepting the Past.

Be quite clear about the distinction between condoning and accepting. When you condone something, you give it your seal of approval. An attitude of acceptance does not include judging past events as okay or insignificant. It simply acknowledges what happened in a matter-of-fact way without being pulled into one of the counter-productive emotions described above.

When you accept the past in such a neutral way, you are detached from its drama and the emotional charge associated with it. Your internal position is that of a witness who knows what happened and recognizes the event for what it was. Most likely you will never forget the experience but emotionally you have made peace with it and are no longer held in its power.

Appreciating Your Progress

There is much to appreciate and be grateful for when you release the hold of the past. This does not have to be in the form of warm fuzzy feelings but rather as an acknowledgment of overcoming difficult odds stacked against you. Take stock of all the good that has come out of a difficult experience: greater strength, a reset of priorities, increased emotional maturity and empathy, not sweating the small stuff and many other gains.

What is your relationship with your past? How have you been able to move on? What new wisdom have you gained? What has held you back?

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/what-role-does-a-difficult-past-play-in-your-life-now/