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artxyra · 4 years ago

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The Secret Life of MDC | Part 2

Part 2 – DuPont believe anything they say

Part 1

Marinette was ready for anything they could throw at her because now she can bring them all down at once. Today was the start of her first time as a spy student for the School board and splitting her time between two classes. The first half of the day would be spent with Mlle. Bustier and the second half as a TA for a new teacher that recently just began over the summer.

“Are you ready, Buggy?” She heard Adrien ask her from behind.

“Buggy? That’s a new one, Kitten, and yeah I'm ready. Just one more school year with Lila and her mindless followers.” Marinette answers, absently playing with the ends of her blouse. Adrien feeling a shift in the air, grips her hand and gives the one person he sees as a sister the biggest reassuring smile he could muster.

“C’mon losers, I only have so many fucks to give out and I don’t want to blow it in the first half of class.” They heard Chloe call out behind them wearing sunglasses indoors that clashed with her golden outfit. Marinette had to prevent herself from scoffing at the fashion choice the blonde teen had made. It was a crime against fashion and the girl is the daughter of a fashion icon.

“Chloe, you know I love you, but what in the world prompted you to wear sunglasses indoors?” Marinette somehow managed not to raise her voice at a person she claims as a sister.

“Oh hush, Manette. I’m doing this to prevent future murders on my hands.” Chloe responded as Adrien and Marinette look at each other communicating with slight head shakes and hand gestures that went from them to Chloe and back to them.

“That makes no sense, Bee, and I’m afraid to know what you meant. Should I message Tim to get a lawyer on hand or just pretend that I didn’t hear anything and go on into the nightmare that we call class.” It was Marinette that took the charge like she always does in these situations where she and Adrien are at a loss when it comes to Chloe’s hidden mindset.

All Chloe gives them is a mischief smirk causing the two friends to fear what is to come.

~*~

“Good morning, class. Today I have exciting news!” The teacher, Mlle. Bustier, announces as she setting her things down and turning to the chalkboard.

The trio never would have thought they would be stuck with Caline Bustier since the beginning of their collége years to the end of their lycée years. The only reason why this is a fact is that many of the teachers in the surrounding Paris area moved out once Hawkmoth’s akuma attacks began to become more vicious. They didn’t want to teach in an area that could lead to death or effect their trauma even more. This caused the school board committee for all of Paris to let the teachers teach their current class up until graduation with only the senior teachers teaching two sets of classes which meant teaching a younger generation outside of their grade group. So far, the change has been going well with minimum out rejection.

For Mlle. Bustier’s class, it was the best transition ever; however, it only solidifies their downfall and future in the real world. Caline, a generous carrying teacher, has little to none of a backbone. Her teaching methods are questionable especially when it comes to her classes' growth, which is why the school board's deal to Marinette was to become a student spy rather than letting her go free once she passed the Baccalauréat.

Caline turns around to view her students. She’s happy to see every single one of them, but her inner smile fades away once she caught sight of Marinette. The girl had so much potential in the teacher’s eyes and it was a shame to see it go to waste. She tried to get Marinette to be an example for her peers, but the girl did nothing but cause a rift in the classroom.

“I have some amazing news. Starting today up until our class exchange program, each and every one of you will be working on a presentation choosing an infamous city in the United States. You can work in pairs no bigger than three for this assignment.” Caline began before going into detail regarding the largest project of their senior year.

The trio already knew what city they were going to pick; however, for Marinette, she was slightly wary. This assignment has little to with her problems, but she had forgotten about the exchange program that the class was selected last year to go on for this year.

Every year a certain senior class is chosen to go on an exchange to one of the partner schools in the United States. When Marinette graduated, she had forgotten that her class was chosen, so now she needs to find out how that will change her teaching assistant job plans and how she and the principal will overcome this.

“Ooh, we should Gotham! I personally know the Waynes. They are a nice family. You know?” Of course, it had to be Lila to ruin a good mood. The trio could feel the liar’s gaze lingering on them as they mentally plain on what to do. “You know Adrien, you could join my group and we’ll get an ‘A’.” Lila begins to sweet-talk her way through Adrien, ignoring the heavily implied discomfort the model was giving her.

“Huh, Lie-la, I’m actually planning on working with Chloe and Mari for this one. I’m sure Alya and Nino would love to be a part of your group.” Adrien speaks up as he repeatedly tapes the desk for help from his two surrogate sisters.

Lila huffs putting on the waterworks, like always does when she didn’t get her way.

“Adrien? C’mon sunshine, can’t you just work with Lila. She was really looking forward to doing the project with you. Nino and I decided to be a duo, anyway. I’m sure Chloe and Marinette can handle it on their own.” Alya may not be physically violent towards anyone, but she did know how to pressure someone into doing something.

Adrien shakes his head and decides that it was best to stay close to Chloe and Marinette in case something goes sideways.

Feeling the attention away from her, Lila knew she had to come up with something spectacular. However, it would be unfortunate for Marinette who decided to take a drink from her water bottle. “I know I shouldn't say anything, but I’m dating Damian Wayne.” Immediately the loyalist of flies surrounds the liar gushing about the latest news.

Marinette, on the other hand, chokes on her water creating a coughing fit. She stares aghast at the liar once the coughing died down. Chloe and Adrien couldn't help but laugh at this.

“Calm down, calm down, class. I still have much to discuss with you including the trip.” Mlle. Bustier states trying to reel on her students as the talking increases in volume.

Fading out of the class the trio opens their group chat. Marinette looks up every so often to make sure that their teacher was paying them no attention.

Queen Bee: Our class is filled with idiots. [insert screaming GIF]

Katana’s Bitch: Uh, Bee what happened?

My Voice is Music: Aren’t you like in class?

Gotham’s Princess: Yes, but that is not the point. Besides, I already did all this shit and just in class for "fun".

R U Kitten Me: Luka, my love, I’m gonna need loads of therapy?

My Voice is Music: Liar?

Katana’s Bitch: Liar?

Queen Bee: She tried to guilt Kitten into being her partner for this large assignment. Ooh, how I can’t wait until he comes out of the closet.

Gotham’s Princess: It will be something like this: [insert a WTF GIF]

R U Kitten Me: Ooh that’s a good one Mars.

Gotham’s Princess: [insert bowing GIF] Thank you.

Queen Bee: 10 o clock, Bustier’s looking right at us

Marinette looks away from her phone to be greeted by Mlle. Bustier stern facials. She sheepishly smiles at the teacher and begins to write in her notebook, but the content had nothing to do with what Mlle. Bustier was teaching.

A grueling class period later, Marinette rushes over to the other side of the building. She sets up the classroom for the teacher and waits for the students to arrive.

While Marinette becomes the TA for a different class, Chloe and Adrien are forced to deal with the idiocy of their classmates alone.

Chloe nearly got into a yelling match with Lila and Alya about Marinette’s whereabouts as everything soon became aware that the fashion designer was missing for the second half of the school day.

Lila, once again, tried to dig her nails into the model to be her partner for the presentation project, she even tried to pull the daddy card over the blonde not knowing that Gabriel has little power over him since he unofficially moved in with the Dupain-Cheng home and rarely makes an appearance at the Agreste home unless it was dire.

“I can’t believe how selfish you are?” Alya attempts to scream into Adrien’s face but is pulled away by Nino, once the DJ realizes what was going on. He even mouths his apologies to his friend as he pulls Alya to comfort Lila, who was making a big hissy fit.

“I just wanted him to have a good grade on this project. My Damiboo would have been a large help when we choice Gotham.” Lila sniffles in her limp hand as if she was the victim of a major crime. Chloe and Adrien just roll their eyes and continue to ignore their classmates as the second half begins.

~*~

Marinette laughs at the messages on her phone about the class before walking into Principal De La Fontaine's offices. Due to the constant attacks and akuma victim from Dupont, the Paris school board officials declared Principal Damocles unfit to be a principal and opted for De La Fontaine to oversee college and lycée of the Dupont schools seeing as they are short-staffed.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, you needed to see me?”

“Good evening, Principal De La Fontaine, and yes I do. It’s about the exchange program. The class that I’m spying for was selected to go last year and I was wondering how that will affect my teaching assistant job?” She asks taking an empty seat opposite from the Principal.

“Why yes, we probably should discuss this before you go. This might be the last piece for the school board in regards to Caline’s teaching habits. I have already discussed it with Mme. Margaux about your month's departure.”

A sigh of relief escapes Marinette’s lips. The feeling of knowing nothing will happen to her job on the school grounds with her being gone for a month.

“Merci.” She says once their conversations end and as she walks out of the office.

Nette @GothamsFashionSense Guess who’s returning to Gotham for a month?? This fille right here!! [insert a Dottie screaming & kicking her feet GIF]

Immediately, the tweet receives dozens of replies, all ranging from screeches of who is she to can’t wait to play “Spot the Nette game” on twitter. Marinette couldn’t help up chuckle as the replies from her extended family proceeds to enter the replies.

Maybe the trip wouldn’t be so bad?

Yeah, that was a lie. Before the trip started, Lila made a tearful excuse about the presentation project then saying that Marinette and her group stole the presentation from her as their city was the same, Gotham, New Jersy. That ended up becoming a large battle about right and wrong, to which Chloe and Adrien won because they did most of the project.

The moment before the trio stepped into the airport, saying their goodbyes to Kagami, Luka, and closet family members was just as emotional. Adrien tried his hardest not to breakdown in Luka’s arms but the reminder of seeing Jon made him excited. Chloe was a weeping mess saying goodbye to her girlfriend, who promise to send messages every day to keep the bee miraculous holder sane. For Marinette, she knew that Paris was in good hands and always having Kaalki on hand has been a huge help when traveling between the two cities.

Upon entering the airplane, there wasn’t a single moment that Lila didn’t lie about her experience in Gotham. She somehow managed to get every Wayne boys' name wrong except for Damian’s and Bruce’s. Like whom the hell is Tom Grayson and Drake Todd. It took every bone in the trio’s body not to breakdown laughing and cursing at the liar for such ludicrous names. Though parts of her conversation went into the ultimate group chat where everyone from Gotham to Paris is on. Let’s just say Jason was craving for a bullet to hit the liar in an “accidental” way.

Part 3 >>

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#maribat #daminette #teacher assistant Marinette AU #teacher assistant au #mild salt #ml x dc #ml crossover #fic:The Secret Life of MDC #mlb x dc

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elucere · 3 years ago

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Sad Late August Quarantine Thoughts 2.0

Last year, I wrote this. Basically my thoughts on how I felt in my life up to that point and what quarantine had illuminated. It felt cathartic then, so hopefully it’ll feel cathartic now. A part of that probably had to do with the fact that the last part was complete bullshit, but we’ll get into that later.

At nearly the slightest inconvenience now, I’ll say “I’m at my limit”. Technically, that isn’t really true because if I was really at my limit, at the next inconvenience I would completely lose it. But no, I’m just simply reminding myself that while I’m constantly met with a series of unfortunate events, I haven’t broken down yet. I might feel like I’m there, but I’m not. I’m just at my limit. Things are bad, but they aren’t the worst they could be yet. So keep in mind, I am very much at my limit as I’m writing this.

Last year I talked about my struggles with my job. Yeah, I got fired in February. It was not pretty either. I knew I wasn’t doing well performance wise, and they invited me into a zoom call that they said was a project meeting a week before my year anniversary and fired me. My supervisor (or I guess, ex-supervisor) cried on call. I didn’t cry until afterwards. It was an entire year of me trying to get better, him promising that it’ll come with time, and then getting sacked because “we didn’t see improvements”. Really, really fucking sucked. And it messed with me for a long time because I kept replaying those last few weeks, trying to decipher what I could’ve done differently to prove my worth and keep my position. There was a lot. I felt really guilty.

I think the worst part is that I got a performance warning in December and realized at that point I’d become so apathetic about my job that I needed professional help. I’d been trying to go to therapy for a long time, but it never panned out. My mom forbade it when I was in high school, it was practically impossible to get an appointment at my college’s mental health facility unless you were considered a threat to yourself and others (which I most certainly did not want on my record), and after school life happened so fast with the pandemic and the fact that I live in a 2 bedroom apartment with my mom and my brother with very little privacy. Even now that I’ve convinced my mom that therapy is okay, actually, she still highly disproves and sees it as some sort of psychological failing on my part. Which is. Sure. Whatever. Why not.The reason I did not enroll in therapy that December is actually because my dad lost his job and with it, his health insurance, and with that, my health insurance. That means I had to enroll in a health plan through my employment, which became an unanticipatedly long process. I actually got my new-but-useless health insurance card in the mail a few days after I got fired. They actually fired me on the last day of the month, so my benefits wouldn’t extend beyond that month. That’s a bit of fun irony.

To quite a few of my friends, this story solidified the idea that insurance=therapy. As soon as I got insurance again, I’d be able to finally get some help. This was a couple of people’s first response to me when I got hired again (yay, I know I don’t have to worry about that anymore but I’m also afraid that I’ll just inevitably be fired again so I don’t let myself have the victory). I know my friends only want the best for me, and I can’t expect them be able to emotionally support me like a professional, but I’m afraid that they think that therapy will be some sort of magical fix of sorts. I don’t mean in the sense of just getting better mentally, but I think being a tolerable person. I know that sounds like I’m just being self-depreciating, but let me explain.

A few years ago I was at dinner with one of my friends. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but she goes “name three things you actually like” because I was probably being negative or something. I said a few things and whatever, but that comment stuck with me for a long time. I thought it was especially poignant or something. Am I so unhappy all the time because I fixate on things I don’t like? It could be connected to the attitude of social media to be outwardly negative. Casual wisdom, you know.

Well, that was the fact until I was out with that same friend and we visited Barnes and Noble. I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading this year and got more involved in the book community, so I have many Opinions. Some are good, some are bad, some are just me being annoying. After an hour of browsing the shelves, we drive home. I start talking about a series I really like in the car and she goes “It’s nice to hear you talk about a book you actually like.” Which kind of stunned me because I had just did a lot of talking about books I liked. How happy I was that kids were still reading Rangers Apprentice, going out of my way to see how many Brandon Sanderson books I could find in the Adult Fantasy section, and more reminiscing in the Young Adult section about books I liked recently or as a teen. The truth is, I talk about stuff I like all the time to people who will listen. Ask me about my favorite books! My favorite movies! My favorite musicals! I promise I will not shut up. It’s one of the few things I have that lift my spirits when I talk about it, I just don’t get the opportunity to much because it’s hard to find people who want to listen.

The thing is, I’m naturally a critical person, I think. I love tearing things apart, in good and bad ways. I also love gossip. I’m an okay gossip, but I know at this point that I’m a good critic. I’m really good at identifying faults and commenting them on an insightful or constructive way. I edit a lot of my friends’ writings for this reason. I don’t find that to be anything negative, it’s just something that’s interesting to me. Basically what I’m saying is, what if it’s not mental illness and I’m just annoying and I’ll not be able to meet the expectations of other people’s idea of progress for me and I’ll be a disappointment. I’m kind of tearing up while typing that out while listening bopping to Disturbia by Rihanna but this is the third time I’ve been on the verge of crying today so yaknow maybe it is just mental illness.At this point, I can either talk about criticism in relation to the particular way I dish it, or I could talk about how I want to receive it. I think the former will take less time to elaborate, so I’ll start with that.

I mention last year how I got an unpaid gig as a critic for DiscussingFilm. Embarrassing at times, I joke with my friends that “DiscussingFilm Writer” is a slur, but it’s cool at times as well. I got a press pass to go to Sundance and gorged on an entire family sized bag of peanut M&Ms while I watched like 14 movies in one weekend. I’m trying to say positive things about this until I start ragging to prove that I’m not an overwhelmingly negative person, but I don’t think that’s working well. Whatever. The point is, if I didn’t like it I would quit, but if I did quit it wouldn’t be because I didn’t like it. It would because there was an…event. I had quite a falling out with one of the higher-ups that run the site and in response my work has taken a hit. I won’t go into too much detail, but I don’t get assigned anticipated releases anymore. My work is often delayed going out and, in turn, I feel less motivated to turn in my work on time. And then on top of that, it’s rarely promoted. I have examples on top of examples, but this stupid thing is getting long enough. To summarize the DiscussingFilm situation, I feel like shit. I have one of the lowest view counts on the site. I’m told that my work is good and it’s valued, but not enough to get reposted, I guess! Why bother. And also because the person I do not work well with is quite up in the food chain, I’ll never see a promotion. I wanted to become an editor so bad (I do editing on the side for my friends and enjoy it), but now it will never ever happen. I don’t have the opportunity to prove myself, it’s just completely off the table by nature of leadership. Ass. Complete ass. I’m doing quite a bit of work for DiscussingFilm including creating the standard for the Instagram, making graphics for the Instagram, performing interviews and writing reviews for the site, and co-hosting a DiscussingFilm branded podcast, and I will never see neither a dime for my work or recognition in any meaningful or significant way. I don’t have a say in anything, and I feel like an insignificant cog whose opinion does not mean much.

I still get insecure with my reviews, but not as much anyways. Sure, I can’t compare to the great writers at trades who do this for a living and have been doing so for years. But, I am better than a lot of writers at my level. Sometimes I try pitching to other publications, but so far I’ve only been met with rejection. It kinda stings to know that my work is not worth enough to be paid for, but I’m kinda over it. I still pitch. I try my best. That’s the thing about me, I just keep going. Rejection hurts like a bitch, but whatever. I don’t want to quit just yet, so I guess I won’t. There isn’t anyone in my corner who’s actively spurring me to keep going, I’ve just decided that I’ll get paid for my work one day and so now I will.This connects with the criticism I want to receive which unfortunately very much is not of the nonfiction variety. Ew I fucking hate talking about this but I need to get it off my chest.

After I got fired, I was slipping into quite a bit of a depression. I started a podcast at this time with my friend to try and prevent that, but I knew that I probably needed another project. I wasn’t watching movies anymore, DiscussingFilm was not publishing my shit, and all I was doing all day was reading (which I don’t anymore, I’m in a slump and it’s definitely connected to the idea I have in the next sentence). So I had the brilliant idea of “hey, I could do that. I could write a book. I should do it to do it.”You see, this has not been my only attempt at writing a proper book. I tried when I was 13, I tried when I was 15 and into online literate roleplay, I tried when I was 18 by doing NaNoWriMo in college (also, I was actually more depressed then). I also tried to get into a short story class in college that you had to submit a story to get into and didn’t even make it on the waitlist. Nothing stuck. But hey, I was unemployed and I came up with a funny premise that I wasn’t too attached to, so why not?

The book is not funny. It was supposed to, but it’s changed a lot. I’m very comfortable writing in camp. It’s difficult because I know sometimes I have my moments, but often I don’t. I also chose to write it in a genre I’m not super familiar with (Young Adult contemporary, I read Young Adult and Adult fiction primarily). I didn’t expect it to be easy, but the things I thought would come easily did not come easily. I have a lot of male friends, so I could certainly write the male characters as real people, right? Right? I’m funny, so the humor would come across well, right? Did I anticipate that after years of pretty much only analyzing films critically I’d subconsciously structure my story using dialogue-driven storytelling similar to a screenplay? No! Not at all, actually! This journey of self-discovery has been ass at every corner!

I recognize that first drafts are shit and authors hate their writing, but also I’m built different, your honor. By 15k words in, I realized I needed an outside perspective. I hated my own writing and I was afraid none of the characters were coming off right. I needed feedback, and I still do. But I hate being perceived. As long as no one reads my writing, they think that I know what I’m talking about and value my opinion on their writing, but once they figure out I’m just an Imposter then it’s game over. They’ll lose respect for me. Logically, I know this isn’t how this works, but I feel physically nauseous whenever someone reads my writing.

Anyways, back to my much-needed criticism. To make a long story short involving several English teacher that caused me to quit pursuing writing altogether in my formative years and decide to switch to a STEM track, I have very little tangible self-awareness of my own writing and how to improve it. I need the outside feedback, or at least I did. I’m 60k words into my first draft now and I’m cripplingly self aware of all my errors, but it feels too little too late. 60k words are a lot of words, and it feels not great knowing that most of them are trash. I really needed this kind of feedback earlier in the process so I could make tweaks early on. I know that writing is like a muscle and you need to work it out and practice to get stronger, but fuck man, FUCK. 60k words is a LOT of words. And I still need people to read it and give me feedback and I’m literally willingly asking people to read shit. It’s so humiliating. I guess I’m just at a point where I wish I could look at it and find something of value in what I’ve written.

I see other authors and I get so jealous. At their confidence, at their lyricism, their mastery of the art, their enthusiasm for their story, their love of their characters. I don’t have that. I’m not even talking about imposter’s syndrome. I know what that feels like. This is something else. I just wish I was the kind of person who could openly be creative without wanting to die. I’m 100% sure if I could be enthusiastic about the story I want to tell, the entire thing would be better. It’s crazy how I noticed that I’m not writing any metaphors into realizing that’s directly connected with my inability to be vulnerable and that I’m detaching myself from my work. That, and the fact that I’m fucking shite at writing metaphors apparently.

It also doesn’t help that I don’t have a writer group of friends and very little people to talk about this with, none of which are like… enthusiastic. It’s not their fault. I attract people into my life who are very much like me. They’re supportive and wonderful but I need someone who’d be excited to talk to me about it. I just feel like such a huge burden all the time. Everytime I bring it up I feel terrible, but it’s occupying so much of my brain space and I have no outlet. But also, getting that group of friends would require me to be vulnerable online and be willing to share what I have so far which I might actually throw up.I think it’s very fun that “crying and throwing up” has become a saying on Twitter considering that I’ve counted a countless amount of times this year and thrown up from stress four times since last November. It might also be connected to coffee consumption, but if that’s true I’m ready to off myself because coffee is one of my few joys. Honestly, it’s probably a mix of both. I’m very healthy, very much okay.

I don’t know. Last year, I ended my little essay on a hopeful note. Here’s the thing, this may seem like very much just stream of consciousness bullshit but there is quite a bit of structuring I do and omissions I make. I didn’t talk about my struggles reconnecting with people and subsequently taking their irregular replies, because there’s a lot to get into there. There’s a lot I could’ve talked about, but no room. There’s a very specific flow, and I feel like any story, it needs a conclusion. So last year, through tears, I wrote a hopeful ending. It was as much for me as it was to the people reading it. Unfortunately, I don’t have it in it for me to conclude in the same fashion this time around.

The truth is, I need to feel okay. I need to feel like I’m good at something, anything, and be recognized for it.

Life is suffering and I’m just constantly going through the motions. I promise you, this stupid thing is 3k words and the second I’m done I’ll go back to working on my b**k even though today I literally started crying thinking about how shit it is. I’m just a tenacious individual. I persist. I don’t feel good about it, and I’m done with being genuinely hopeful, but there’s nothing to do but keep moving. I don’t know if my writing will get better or if I’ll ever get published or if this story is worth it. I don’t fucking know anything and I feel like shit. But what else am I going to do? I’ve been holding onto this hope that I’ll feel better about things for just so long and it hasn’t happened. But I’m not giving up lmao I’m just working with what I have. I am at my limit.

#mine #bean spews

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streakyglasses · 4 years ago

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It Gets Better

This post is for anyone, but high schoolers and college peers especially.

Now, I know this past year has been extremely difficult. My plans also got thrown to the wayside which was completely heartbreaking. The only goal right now is survival-- keeping our head’s afloat until the new administration is in office and, hopefully, offers more aid regarding vaccinations, student loans, and stimulus. I can’t imagine going through what I did in high school right now, and I’m sure many kids are. I see you and I’m sorry. The best advice I can offer is to find a support system who cares and loves you, and possibly a therapist (therapy is great). Most people right now don’t know what high school and college students are going through.

Without going into too much detail, my social experience growing up was terrible. So much so that I finished high school online and went to college 1200 miles away at 16. And, as grateful as I am for those experiences, I was miserable the whole time. My plate was always overloaded, I constantly felt like I had to prove myself, and my whole identity and purpose was based on other people’s perception of me. Couple that with mental illness and it wasn’t a great time for anyone involved. I decided not to stay at my previous school and instead move back home and take a gap year to find a school that fit my needs better. This is one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself.

Especially in America, we rag on gap years because college is always seen as the goal in our education system. But taking a year off allowed me to work on my mental health, hang out with my real friends, develop skills I needed to reenter college, and just take a load off. I worked pretty much full time during my time away from school, and this also helped me solidify what I wanted to do (and also that I needed to get out of my hometown).

My gap year turned into a gap year and a half because of COVID. And I am in a very privileged position regarding the pandemic. As hard as it was to have my plans derailed, it gave me the option to look at why I chose the school I did, more financial options, and just reconsider everything so I was making the right choice in the short and long term. I ended up withdrawing from one school and committing to another, which is where I am now. But what is the most important thing I learned during my year off?

I have to do things for myself, not because I think it’s how others expect me to act based on what I think they think about me.

In other words, I learned I cared way too much about what others thought, and it was a big reason I was so miserable all the time and making decisions that negatively affected my health. As much as I said I was over the people who caused my trauma, it affected my ability to regulate what was important to me.

I chose the school I’m at now for a multitude of reasons. It has a great program, it’s close to the city, I’m here for ridiculously cheap out-of-pocket. But mainly I’m here because I want to be. Because I trust I can learn and grow here in a way I couldn’t anywhere else. Because I was able to let go of my baggage, pluck up some courage, and do the damn thing no matter what anyone else thought. And I’ve only been here about a week, but I have so much confidence and so many good feelings about my time here at my new school. I’m buzzing with excitement not only because I’m back in school, but because I feel ready to take advantage of opportunities that serve me and let go of the ones that don’t, even if they’ll pad my resume. I firmly believe that everything happens in due time, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t do the things I did when I was younger. I finally feel like I’m where I belong, surrounded by people who I can learn from and who want the best for me. And I never thought it would be where I am, but it is. But my younger self lived and yearned specifically for the freedom and peace that college would bring me, and I finally found it.

To make a long story short: it gets better. I know how hard it is, trust me. I know it feels like it won’t. I know you feel like you’re going to be surrounded by this gray film forever, your goals constantly just out of reach. And I know it’s hard to imagine who you’re going to be by the time you move into your freshman dorm or when you move out for that summer. But the only thing you can do is keep moving forward on your path. Even if people discourage you, even if your goals seem lofty, even if half the time you can’t believe you’ll make it. Stay in line. Allow yourself to be hurt by but also to grow from whatever bad things happen. Try to heal. Find people who support and love you, and realize they’re the only ones who matter when it comes to why you make certain decisions (but they never matter more than your instinct and heart.) You don’t have to prove yourself. You don’t have to post everything online for the world to see how good you’re doing. (And, I promise, no one is ever judging you as much as you think they are. People don’t care all that much unless you’re someone important to them.) Take a deep breath. Trust you’ll end up where you need to be, even if you’re not sure where that is right now. You got this.

#college #high school #advice #peer pressure #mentoring #i promise #it gets better #you matter #your goals matter #growth #moving on #growing up #moving to college #finding your place #mental illness #mental health #online school

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daughterofluthien · 4 years ago

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Fictober - Day 10

Prompt number: 10. “all I ever wanted” Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: T Characters/Relationships: Tamora Monroe, Scott McCall Word Count: 3728 Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence A/N: Three years after the battle for Beacon Hills, Monroe calls a second peace summit. It doesn’t go the way she anticipated.

The moon hung low and large in the sky; it seemed to shine more brilliantly than it ever had in the past. Tamora glanced up at it briefly and hoped she wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

Mistake or not, the decision had already been made and she had a responsibility to follow through. She adjusted the strap on her rifle, relieving the uncomfortable pressure on her shoulder; she wasn’t sure that she'd ever get used to carrying a weapon for long periods of time.

Part of her — the part that had a bachelor’s degree in education and a masters in counseling, both pursued immediately after the preceding graduation — still wished that the weapons weren’t strictly necessary. But the past few years had taught her that the world was more complicated than it appeared in textbooks.

When your opponents had access to claws and fangs as a standard part of their anatomy, arming yourself was just leveling the playing field.

She glanced back at the five equally armed men and women behind her, all of whom she assumed were in a similar state of unease, and distracted herself by running through plans and contingencies. Tonight’s plan was… bold. To say the least.

But with the growing public outcry against her organization—not to mention raids by the likes of the ATF and FBI, which resulted in multiple arrests and the confiscation of several caches of weapons—she needed bold. She needed decisive. And above all, she needed something that would solidify the need for the cause in the hearts and minds of the others.

While she was glad that many of the men and women who followed her had not been personally affected by the devastation that was so often left in the wake of the supernatural, many of them were unaware how dangerous these individuals truly were. If she wanted them to remain committed, then they needed to understand personally.

Of course, it didn’t help that so few of the skirmishes between the two sides actually ended in casualties.

There were exceptions to this, of course—poorly planned out attacks on whole packs that could only ever end in a bloodbath. And as expected, the survivors of those assaults returned to her, or to the leaders of their own cells, with a renewed fervor for the cause. If they managed to escape alive, they understood the importance of the fight.

But for every event of that type, there were at least two others where the only reason a fight occurred was because one or two werewolves showed up to protect one of their own. And in those cases, they almost never pressed the advantage. Survivors of those incidents returned confused as to why they were even alive.

She remembered speaking to one such survivor as he cleaned and bandaged a shallow slash on his shoulder. She had placed a hand on his shoulder, and told him that he was lucky to be alive. That it was a testament to his bravery.

The man shook his head and stared pensively off into the middle distance. She wondered what he was seeing in his mind.

When he finally found his voice, he spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so… He yanked the gun out of my hand. Threw me to the ground. But the power behind it—” He shook his head again, and returned to winding the bandage around his shoulder. “He could’ve me. Easily. But he left me alive.”

“Because he was afraid. Because he knows how strong we are, and what we would do if one of us was killed.”

“Nah, he wasn’t afraid.” The bandage complete, he pulled his shirt back on, and winced as he moved his arm experimentally. “I’ve seen men afraid. Seen those things afraid, too—hell, that kid you sent me after tonight? She was terrified.” He glanced up at her, a dark look in his eye. “How old was she, anyways? The kid?”

Tamora fixed him with a look. “You know as well as I do that age doesn’t matter. As soon as their abilities manifest, they’re a danger—to us, and to the rest of the human population.”

“How old?”

She didn’t look away. “Seventeen, I believe.”

The man snorted, but didn’t answer. He shook off her hand and stood up.

She allowed her voice to harden. “So I take it the mission was a failure?”

“All he wanted was the kid, and he got her. Far as I know, they’re both still alive.” He picked up a bag with his gear and turned to leave. “Can’t say I’m crying about it, either.”

Tamora didn’t go after him then. She didn’t try to change his mind, because to do so would be to show weakness.

He wasn’t the first or the last to leave with a similar story.

And to make matters worse, at the same time that her organization was hemorrhaging followers, certain elements of the supernatural were rapidly gaining support worldwide.

The first time she encountered an individual with the McCall Pack tattoo, the others who were with her at the time laughed, joking that the creatures were finally painting targets on themselves, and that it would be rude not to oblige.

The laughing stopped when the symbol started showing up on graffiti and in signatures on message boards. These days, anyone who knew anything about the supernatural knew what the two concentric circles meant, even if they’d never heard the name Scott McCall.

It stood for something. Something that people believed in. Something that they wanted to follow—not out of fear—but out of loyalty and conviction.

In the face of that, Tamora was starting to wonder if she stood for anything at all.

Which, she reminded herself, was the reason they were here tonight. The individuals following behind her were some of the most influential members of her organization, all leaders of multiple cells around the world, she needed to make a point to them.

And if she needed to prove it to herself as well, then that was all right too. After all, she had learned in her classes that even counselors need therapy, from time to time. There was no shame in having doubts.

Shame came in acting on them.

She had poured everything that she had—everything she was—into this mission. This cause. And she refused to let it all be in vain.

The last three years meant something. They needed to mean something. And if she needed to take drastic action to remind herself of that, then so be it.

After all, she had started the stage of her life with drastic action. Before that night, she had never acted violently toward anyone. Had never even touched a weapon. But she had the courage to act when it mattered, and defend herself against the monsters that roamed freely in this world.

She remembered being terrified, that night. Her grip hadn’t been tight enough, and she nearly dropped the gun when it recoiled in her hands.

But she had fired the gun. She had taken action. And from that moment on, she wasn’t just a victim. The sort of person that sat passively by while people who didn’t really care patted her hand and said things like ‘you’re lucky to be alive’ or ‘at least you’re safe now.’ The traumatized final girl in a slasher movie.

She had agency now. The power to control her own narrative. And not only that, she was in a position to empower others as well.

Fear destroys a person, and no one deserved to be afraid. No one deserved to be forgotten.

Together, they could change the world. And when they were done, no one would be.

But she had been fighting for the cause for three years, and the people she led had forgotten what it meant to be truly afraid.

Tonight, she would show them. She would break down the lies and empty legends. She would remind them of the difference between what is human and what is not.

She just hoped enough of them survived to tell the story. ________________________

Despite the guns and other gear, their small procession moved quickly, and arrived at the set meeting place ahead of schedule. Tamora checked her watch when they arrived.

12:13 AM. They were early, which was fine by her. She ordered the two most nervous looking men to scout the perimeter. Not because she truly expected an ambush, but because she knew they needed something to distract them.

She glanced up at the moon a second time. It was the largest she had ever seen it—which might generally not mean much, as she had only really paid attention to the moon these past three years—but tonight she trusted her senses. She had planned, had done her research, and she knew that tonight wasn’t just any full moon.

Tonight was the second in a sequence of three consecutive supermoons.

Tonight, the moon would travel closer to the earth than it had in years. And at 12:44 AM precisely, it would be at its highest point in the sky.

Werewolves were, first and foremost, creatures constrained by their nature. Even an Alpha would be unable to remain in control under that sort of pull.

Even Scott McCall.

She shivered against fall wind, and pushed away the thought that the shiver might be due to nerves, rather than the cold. She wasn’t afraid of dying, and she knew this time she wouldn’t be forgotten. If she was killed, her sacrifice would mean something.

This was the right thing to do.

“There’s someone coming!” The man behind her meant it to be a whisper, but it was harsh and loud. And if it was loud to her, she could only imagine what any werewolves in the vicinity heard.

She knew she was being watched, so she didn’t roll her eyes. Instead, she schooled her features, let them settle into a cool, practiced mask, and smiled. “They’re here.”

She heard a chorus of clicks behind her, as her companions raised their weapons. Multiple lights scanned the field in front of her, revealing half a dozen or so figures approaching. As the flashlight beams passed over the little group, she noticed the reflected eyeshine in a little over half of the members—a sure sign that the individual in question was a non-human.

She wondered briefly if the others were human. She knew that some packs—including the McCall pack—accepted humans among their ranks, but she never understood why a human would agree to join one. Supernatural creatures shared an instinctual connection to each other that humans could fundamentally never truly share. A human who ran with wolves could only ever be trod on and forgotten.

The individual at the head of the approaching pack turned to speak to his companions. After a short discussion, he approached alone.

She did not move—he could come to her.

Tamora hadn’t seen Scott McCall in person since that night in Beacon Hills High, over three years ago, and she realized that she barely remembered him. All she remembered was the fear.

And at the time, she had reason to be afraid. Gerard Argent had told her who he was, explained that he was the most powerful werewolf in Beacon Hills. That he had others who were loyal to him and would fight on his behalf. She had only met him a handful of times, but the idea of him had terrified her.

But Beacon Hills was in the past, three long years and hundreds of miles away, and she hadn’t felt that sort of fear in a long time.

Face to face with the Alpha for the first time since the night she fired a bullet at his heart, she realized that she wasn’t afraid. At least, not in the way she had been back then—that sort of all-encompassing, fight or flight sort of fear.

She had chosen to fight, and it had been instinctual. Because in the end, all creatures are slaves to instinct.

A quick glance at her watch told Tamora that it was 12:35. It wouldn’t be long now.

She looked back up at McCall as he squinted in the harsh light of the multiple flashlight beams that had suddenly been trained on him, and for a moment, he looked young. Like one of the kids that she visited colleges to recruit. The ones who were so full of pent-up rage at the world, and were desperately looking for guidance and direction.

Except she didn’t see any rage in McCall. There was power in his stance, yes, but beyond that she only saw quiet confidence, mixed with a wary but surprisingly open curiosity.

He broke the silence first. “You’re the one who wanted to meet. But if you have a way that all of this can end—” he glanced behind her and she assumed the guns were now being pointed at him “—then I’m willing to listen.”

She allowed herself a soft smile. “I won’t apologize for the precautions, Scott.” She glanced up pointedly at the moon, which hung above them, unobscured by cloud cover. “I’m afraid we’re all aware of what exactly a night like tonight can mean for someone like yourself.”

He nodded, but didn’t follow her gaze. When she met his eyes again, she saw sympathy, along with another emotion she couldn’t name. It was gone a second later, leaving only the sympathy behind. “Yeah, I am. But you don’t have to be afraid.”

“Fear is a natural response to the unknown. Are you trying to tell me that the ordinary people of this world, they don’t have the right to be afraid?”

His response was immediate. “No, of course they do. The existence of the supernatural— It would terrify anyone. And trust me, I get that.”

It wasn’t the response she expected, and she scoffed. “What could you possibly know about fear?”

“More than you think.” He paused, like he was trying to figure out the correct direction to take the conversation. “Actually, all werewolves do.”

She didn’t quite know what he meant by that, though she supposed that all creatures felt fear. But the content of tonight’s conversation wasn’t important, and all that mattered was that she drew it out as long as possible, so she asked for clarification. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

He considered. “Three months ago there was a kid, sixteen years old. You met him in LA.”

She remembered. “The Omega.” McCall’s face hardened at the term, but he didn’t say anything. “It was a full moon, and he was half-feral to begin with. I was defending myself.”

That night had been an abject failure of the worst kind—not only had they lost their quarry, but one of her best men had been killed in the process. It had also marked the beginning of the string of failures that had eventually led her here.

McCall shook his head. “He was terrified. The moon—” He cut himself off, casting about for the correct words. “It gives us power, yes. But it doesn’t cause the aggression. All it does is amplify what’s already there.”

“Then your kind is dangerous by nature. You’re just good at hiding it the rest of the month.”

“Except it doesn’t amplify aggression. Or, at least, not just aggression. It’s everything you feel—happiness, anger, love. Fear.” He raised his eyebrows slightly and held her gaze. “The boy you tried to kill that night, Alec? He was terrified, and not just of you.”

She wondered what McCall hoped to accomplish by bringing up that particular event. If he meant for her to feel guilt about it, then he was sorely mistaken.

She and her men had been in Los Angeles to hunt an Alpha; they eventually managed to corner him, but not before he had attacked and bitten a young bystander. Once the werewolf was dead, she told the boy the truth—that he would either die, or she would return the next day to kill him.

Though of course, the young werewolf wasn’t even dead—last she heard, he had joined McCall’s apparently ever-expanding pack.

At any rate, her conscience was clear. “He had already been bitten when I found him. You and I both know how that ends.”

He shook his head. “The night you found him, he was attacked. And for some reason that he didn’t fully understand, he survived. But he was dragged forcibly into a dangerous world, one that he knew nothing about, and when someone did show up? They weren’t there to rescue him.” He paused, as if to make sure she was listening, and raised his eyebrows. “I think maybe you know something about that sort of fear.”

She didn’t want to think about cowering, huddled beside the still-warm corpse of a co-worker. About squeezing her eyes shut and praying desperately to a god she didn’t really believe existed.

Tamora eventually shoved the thoughts away, and reminded herself all she really needed to do was keep him talking, and the moon would do the rest soon enough. It didn’t pay to let herself be distracted.

It still took her longer than she wanted to respond, but to her relief, her voice remained even. “If you’re trying to elicit some sort of sympathy from me—”

“I just want you to understand—”

“We’re long past understanding.” She felt her anger surging, and she wasn’t sure if she cared about staying emotionally detached anymore. “And don’t you dare compare your kind to mine, when something that’s a common part of the natural world turns you into a monster!”

He took a step closer, likely about to make yet another impassioned plea for inherent humanity of the inhuman. Or rather, he started to step closer. He stopped suddenly instead, eyes darting to stare at a point over her right shoulder.

She turned to follow his gaze, hand already drifting to her gun at the sudden, serious intent in his eyes. As she did so, several things happened in quick succession:

McCall yelled something she didn’t have time to process, though she thought she heard her name.

The sharp, deafening report of automatic gunfire split the air. Short burst, over as soon as it started.

Not part of the plan.

She turned to yell at whoever had been stupid enough to pull the trigger before it was time. “Hold your fire, goddamn—”

Her right shoulder burned with a new, intense pain.

Her hand flew up to grip the offending area, and she swayed on her feet.

The pain swelled and her vision grayed, and when the world came back into focus she was on the ground.

As far as she could tell, no time had passed. She hadn’t been unconscious. She tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but her shoulder burned like it was on fire, and each movement sent a new wave of pain coursing through her.

McCall looked over his shoulder at his pack and shook his head, then was at her side before any of her men could reach her. All she could see was the moon, and for one brief, frozen second, she was sure this was the moment. McCall would tear out her throat, and the world would finally see him and his pack for the monsters they truly were.

She had hoped that she would live to see it. But if this was how it had to end, then it was worth it.

The blow never came.

She heard footsteps running up behind her, and she tried once again to prop herself up into a sitting position, this time successfully. The expected wave of pain never came. She noted with confusion that McCall’s hand was on hers—she pulled her own away, fixing him with a glare.

Then she noticed black veins slowly receding into his hand and arm, and she froze. Her sudden lack of pain made sense now.

But it was the only thing that did.

The others reached her now, and she looked up to see six guns pointed directly at McCall, who glared back at them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” This was from one of the men she had only just recently met. Everyone else seemed too wary, too afraid to make a move.

McCall raised his hands slowly, eyes not leaving the face of the man that spoke. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tamora spoke first.

“He took my pain.”

The man looked skeptical. “And why would he ever do that.”

She looked back at McCall and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”

After that, everything was almost shockingly mundane. She sent someone to go get the medical kit, and Deanne—one of the cell leaders that she had the most contact with over the past few months—began to bandage her shoulder.

McCall stood to leave, but Tamora stopped him. “I don’t understand.”

He paused, then turned back. And when he spoke, she knew it was words he had considered carefully. “We don’t have to act out of fear. We always have a choice, and there’s always a better way. All I ever wanted was for you to see that.”

He returned to his waiting pack, and she checked her watch. 1:04 AM. The moon had passed its meridian and had already begun to set.

She closed her eyes.

It was supposed to be her moment of victory—a violent object lesson that would prove the accuracy of her beliefs beyond a shadow of a doubt. Instead, the moment came and went. And she didn’t even notice.

McCall hadn’t become aggressive or angry, or had even looked like he was fighting it. Instead, all he had been was kind.

She planned for tonight to be the great unmasking—the moment when she tore back the curtain of civility and revealed the monsters to the world. If she had proved that even the great True Alpha Scott McCall was little more than a feral beast, then humans around the world would’ve rallied to her cause.

But she hadn’t. And maybe—

Maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he never had been.

It was treacherous thought, and she betrayed herself by thinking it. Her shoulder throbbed dully, though it was still nowhere near the earlier waves of pain

For the first time in years, she wasn’t entirely certain what to do next.

#fictober20 #scott mccall #tamora monroe #so full disclosure this was written over like. 5 days. and absolutely no editing was done #but here it is and if nothing else i am very attached to a lot of these concepts #my fic

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talesofealdancynedom · 3 years ago

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Concept of the Dragon King, in human form.

Tale 21: What The Wagon Was For (chapter 7 - Perfect Pie 7/8 ) part 6. Stories of wizards

To be enchanted. Containing magic, and thus it’s laws and limits; But also, its abilities. Blessing, veiling a curse. This is what it means to be an enfeyed Warg. making a pact with a fey, so its essence lives within a mage. Being a Warg was rare but not associated with magery. Everything was enchanted after all. As mages discovered how to integrate into wizard culture, they appear talented instead of dangerous. Like a fey passing as a human, a mage may pass as an ordinary wizard, forgetting what they truly are. Whether it be a rare naiad professor, or even a lady enfeyed with the lost Stag Queen, becoming a head paladin. Magic can be simply about perspective. In the Day Veil, the Shadow Veil, separated by the existence of the Beast Kings, touches everything. Enchantment, is invisible.

The problem with infinity, is eventually. No matter the secret, things will come to light, or change. After a series of adventures far from home, Morgan and Emilia were found. The government of the Grand West took in Morgan, and realized immediately he was a mage. Worse yet, He may be traumatized to the point of walking a wire, between inflicting pain on others, or being used as a tool. Morgan was now a conspiracy, in need of sweeping under the rug. Thus, while he waited for a new home, Morgan ended up being passed from master to master like a game of magic hot potato. The counsel of wizards, desperately tried to mold Morgan into something that resembled a wizard. Unlike Morgan’s parents, they knew keeping magic from him was futile. It wasn’t just that he was attracted to it, but now it was attracted to him. The best they could do, was send Morgan to a reform magic academy, to save him before emotions corrupted him.

To go along with a recovery plan, Emilia was removed from the situation. Morgan was placed in a dorm at the school, and then given a variety of powerful teachers to stop him from studying magery; And growing in power. Which implied Morgan had a goal of achieving power, and not just wanting to avoid his problems. Magic just happened to be his vice. Like Teflon, each master couldn’t stick around long. Lead Paladin Estella, calm, strong and respected, was first. She was to watch his every move, and guide him towards wizardry. Instead, Estella ended up watching him free the Dragon Queen from a wizard bank, and make fey friends. Emilia kept cropping up, to help out. The will to quest was so strong, not even Estella could stop him. So, Estella’s employers sent her to capture a missing suspect, Ceberus Monafyra, hoping Morgan would become a casualty in the crossfire. But they were soon disappointed.

As Estella tried to catch Cerberus and protect Morgan, he had his eyes on the prize; He was near the Dragon Gate, in Grand Snow. He remembered it was open from the year prior, when he had visited the Shadow Veil. Now, understanding that the kingdom stones made him King Mage, and thus a sibling and friend to all magic, Morgan wanted the last stone. He assumed some ritualistically slain goat, brought through the open gate, to the mouth of the largest dragon in existence, would make them friends. While Estella and Cerberus threw spells at each other, Morgan was once again blissfully lost in adventure. The world disappeared when his id called him to adventure. Estella was helpless to watch Morgan walk into the Shadow Veil, with Cerberus behind him. Cerberus, a mage unaccustomed to the veil, fled; But Morgan presented a dead goat to the Dragon King.

“Sorry I was gone so long, Dragon King.” Morgan said, holding the goat up to the massive muzzle of the Dragon King.

“You came to me with tales, then returned my wife, brother. I will accept your gift, but I promise it is unnecessary. It is but a small token, compared to your other deeds. Not to mention, you seem calmer; Found a true love perhaps? Stone Queen Io would be thrilled to hear such news.” The Dragon King teased, taking the goat. Morgan didn’t say anything.

“You called me brother; Does that mean I had the stone the entire time?”

“Yes. You told me a tale, of the life of men; Can you share another from today? I would love to hear as many tales of humanity as I can.” The Dragon King responded, taking human form.

“Well to start, I’m upset I killed that goat. Also, I have a heartman mage fighting my magic knight; He is charged with fratricide, and inciting a dragon in Fountain. mages keep being scape goats; I wish I could change that.”

“Fountain? Oh no; One of my daughters did that. Also, if you mean Cerberus, he opened the Dragon Gate, causing spring to return to Grand Snow. He trained the new Mage of The Dragon Gate! He fell in after you just now; We will keep him here ‘for safe keeping’. You need not be in danger, my friend. Now tell me more.” The Dragon King said, taking a seat atop his mountain.

At Pepperidge Academy, Morgan met his next master: Woodwick. Whom Morgan immediately recognized as a Fountain Nymph. The school didn’t believe him, at first. Emilia was sent back to try and reunite her with her own family, in the meantime. Thus, making Morgan feel empty again. After only a month, Morgan was once again opted to distracted himself from his loneliness, and wandered to Tiberius Gate; The black tower in the center of a large stone walled forest, containing a dormant magic landscape. Morgan liked the Idea of a magic forest. He found instructions to open the gate, causing him to go missing, and forcing Estella and Woodwick to come look for him. Estella never returned, as she was enfeyed with the lost Stag Queen. Then, Woodwick was fired; Ten years of employment, didn’t negate the fact he was a fairy.

So, now Morgan was the King Mage of Tiberius Gate, going to magic school, soon reunited with Emilia, but with no home or therapy. Magic had never felt so good, nor treated so well. His third Master was a prodigy seer named Hara Fyrstan. Lucky for Morgan, his new master was also a fey loving mage, and thus did not disappear, but actually helped Morgan become a top student. It was almost the happily ever after Morgan yearned for.

There comes a moment, when laying in bed, after being suddenly woken by terror, that materialized from nothing. Though sleep is deep, anxiety diminishes it’s benefits. The sudden burst of energy, in an otherwise quiet environment, allows existential reflection though a lens of catastrophe. Magic was no longer enough to comfort or enchant. Peace, the opposite of conflict, can create its foe; For something cannot exist, without an opposite. Years of trauma had started to sink in, and sharpen, in the middle of the night. Something about realizing the pain is still there. Wishing to speak up, but fearing the response of new friends. Consumed by the whiles and whims of magic, and subconsciously reliant on a single person for every emotional need, was enabling. In silence, and darkness, one awakes in absolute loneliness.

Feeling inescapably separate from the world, and the security of family, the sweet serenity, from a dreamlike ether, that bathes the world each day, is appealing. It cleared the fog, making a disturbing scene forefront in the mind. No chance left of sleep, wandering to a desk, in front of a perfect new journal, with pen in hand. The leather unworn, and parchment smelling warm and woody. Unsatisfied with the world, taking out ink, desiring to bleed the depths of the mind onto paper, but too mortified with such monsters, to write their names. Morgan was reduced to tears.

“Morgan? Are you ok? You seemed to be doing so much better,” Emilia said. “But suddenly you keep waking up; I’m worried.” She whispered. Morgan had woken her too. Emilia got out of the purple soft sheets; Still warm, upon the bed, in the center of the room, inside the tower. Just the two of them. Emilia softly walked forward, and went for a hug; For the first time, Morgan flinched at her touch. Emilia felt cold; like his emotions were radiating into her. She could never unknown his struggles, of which he entrusted with her alone.

“Emilia, I miss my mom and dad; And I hate it.” Morgan cried.

“I never asked, because I don’t miss my own family; But what was your family like?”

“I have an aunt, uncle, and cousin. No more grandparents, but my mom and dad really love me. They hurt me, but only because they care. I want to hate them, because I now know they abused me. But I just can’t.” He sobbed.

“If you have an aunt and uncle, why didn’t they just adopt you? Their next of kin, and can keep the family together.” Emilia said. That might have been a bit insensitive. Morgan stopped crying, and stared into the tear-soaked journal. He had need of Emilia’s hair dryer. Two teens in a tower, going to magic school. Where were the adults? Morgan needed an adult. Her question solidified his torment. Morgan wanted to be hugged. He had no answer to her question. He knew so many things now, but had no clue how to recover or where his uncle Cetus was.

NEXT--->

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#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #story 21 #short stories #fantasy

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years ago

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Dude the whole plot of the sabotage of simkung house was so good????!!!! Like the smut was hot don't get me wrong, but I was equally as wrapped in the plot. Omg!!!! What happens afterwards to everyone?

Oh my goodness!! Thank you 🥺💕 writing all the twists and turns in Simkung House was a lot of fun, it was such a satisfying journey to go on! The smut was just a plus 😘 and ooh you wanna know what happens after the end? Sure!

After The Sabotage of Simkung House (Spoilers, Obviously):

Obviously, Minho does get to go to Japan to continue culinary schooling and Changbin gets his doctorate in physical therapy. They both appreciate their friendship still and connect over the show and working out, and if Minho loves cooking then Changbin loves eating. Minho had told the whole cast there’s always a free table open for them at the restaurant he became sous at, but Changbin is the one to most regularly take him up on the offer. Both have been on approximately three dates with the Reader since the show: one each separately... and one together.

Hyunjin is the first to lawyer up since his father is an attorney, but this means he has to come out as an actor first. He crashes on Reader’s couch for a few days while that whole mess blows over (and a couple nights on Jisung’s couch if we’re being honest; they became friends after Hyunjin was impressed with Jisung’s right hook and his performance in the finale). Hyunjin convinces Jisung to join in the suit because he deserves the most reparations and that helps solidify their case even more. Hyunjin eventually helps Jisung open up his bar (Hyunjin’s mother even helped design it) and hosts an open mic night a couple times a week. Jisung has been on one casual date with the Reader but found it entirely too awkward and the residual pining was too present. He suggested they just remain good friends before she even had the chance. Hyunjin on the other hand... he definitely likes his new side gig. Any dates he’s gone on with Reader, he writes off as work expenses since they usually talk shop and and about when they plan to meet up again. This is his new prized secret from his family, since the first secret was so fun to keep.

Chan and Reader did get together... eventually. But they’re not exclusive by any means. They both still like to be their own people but love being around and with each other. He even likes Hyunjin more now that he’s decidedly less annoying than he was back on the show, so he doesn’t mind hanging around sometimes while he’s over or hogging up their studio. The first time Chan really professed his deeper feelings, it was after shooting a scene together, in the middle of Reader cleaning up — hardly as romantic as either of them pictured, but sort of perfect for them.

Don’t worry about Jeongin and Seungmin, they’re both reliable teamsters on more on-the-level shoots now.

As for Felix... the last anyone heard, Reader received one postcard in the mail about a year after the show. It was from California but postmarked in Florida, and simply read:

“Thanks for pointing me in the right direction. Things are way brighter over here, and I’m moving onto some exciting prospects. I just had to follow my Shining Star to find my way. Wish you were here! — Your #1 Fan”

#mail #anon #worldbuilding: sabotage edition

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #297

“crushed, damned, and broken; lost, sick, and left unspoken.”

When was the last time you did clay work/pottery? Not since high school when I made an anatomically correct heart. Do you like art, hate it or just not mind it? I adore it. Is crime a big problem in your area? Oh yes. What's the scariest story/urban legend/creepypasta etc you heard? Maaaan, as a cryptic fanatic, that's hard. Maybe the Rake. What personality trait does nearly everyone in your family seem to have? We're some resilient motherfuckers. What is your favorite soda? Well, it's technically strawberry Sunkist, but I do NOT let myself have it because I will fucking chug it and binge on them if available to me. So, I just consider Mountain Dew Voltage my fave. When you're on the beach, do you throw beached sea creatures back? I've never even seen a beached animal. I would, though. Have you ever thrown food at someone? Yeah, small food fights as a kid or joking with a friend. Have you ever been to a bonfire? Yeah. Do you like orangutans? I love them; such fascinating, enchanting animals that act more human than people half the time. When you see a bug flipped on his back, what do you do? It depends on what it is, but I usually try to help it. Is cereal good? Yeah, I love cereal. Do you like spaghetti? Love it. It was my favorite food as a kid. Is there any kind of weapon in your bedroom? No. Do you like snow globes? I love 'em! Be honest, did Fifty Shades of Grey arouse you in any way? I didn't read it and never will. What does your sibling(s) call you? "Britt" or "(little/big) sister." Do you have any close friends that are the opposite sex that your significant other dislikes? N/A Do you honestly believe everything happens for a reason? Why or why not? Nope, because I want you to explain to me why a child dies of cancer. Why the 11-year-old was raped and forced to bear the child. Why a partner is beaten to death by their s/o, etc. etc. Things just... happen. Do you believe in reincarnation? Why or why not? No, mostly; I DO kinda wonder about it, I just find it unlikely. It would be kinda poetic, though: being given the chance to experience so many unique things. But, I kinda want a conclusion to my mortal life. The Hunger Games or The Maze Runner? I read the first HG and loved it; I started the latter novel while I was in the psych hospital for a while, but I never finished it or got that far in. It did sound pretty good, though. Has anyone you’ve known claimed to be psychic? Well, they believe(d) in tarot readings; does that count? Idk. Did/do you believe them? I wouldn't. Is anything annoying you right now? "Annoyed" is a fucking understatement when it comes to what transpired at the capitol a few days back. Have you ever been ice-skating? No. Does the sound of rain at night help you sleep? It can, depending on how heavy it is. Have you ever seen an albino person, in person? Albino, no, but I knew a guy and his sister in high school who had vitiligo. Have you ever worn a pair of scrubs? Yeah, at the ER and hospital. Have you ever walked into a massive cobweb? I don't believe so. What would you say is your strongest felt emotion right now? Rage. I'm not over "the event." I'm just tired of humanity. Are you talking to anyone at the moment? No. Do you have trust issues? Oh yes. Have you ever found an arrow head? No. Who is with you? My mom's home. What can you not stop thinking about? *points upwards* Then there's Jason because PTSD, that's very normal. Do you forgive easily? I forgive very easily, honestly. In what part of your life so far, have you learned the most about yourself? 2017, when recovery began. I think... or maybe 2018, idk. I've truly come to discover myself quite a lot the past few years. Have you ever been in a fist fight? No. Are your ears pierced? Yeah: my earlobes twice, and then my right tragus has a stud. I want to get my others back... I had to take them all out in the psych hospital, and a lot of my piercings closed up. The only one I don't wanna re-do is my anti-tragus, because mine was *always* inflammed and aggravated. What did you last say out loud? "Okay" to Mom. What are you waiting on? Right now, an opportunity to go to the parlor I'm getting my tat tidied up at to get a price range on it. They just need to be open while we're out of the house. Do you tell people when they get on your nerves? Not really. Are your feelings hurt easily? Yep. What's the most expensive piece of clothing you have? Did you buy it yourself? I dunno... I very rarely get new clothes, nevermind expensive ones. Who is your closest platonic friend of the opposite sex? His nickname is Girt. He's been my best male friend since high school; we even hang out sometimes, but it's been a long while. How do you think your first relationship shaped who you are as a partner now? As a partner, it taught me to not fall head over heels and love more realistically and in a healthy fashion. I don't put my faith solely into them, but myself, too. I also accept "forever" is not always true just because they promise it. Who is your favorite protagonist of the same sex? Oh god, this is hard. I suppose maybe Tyrande Whisperwind from WoW. I love her dedication to her people and that her story has become more interesting in her finally "breaking." I could list so, so many "faves," tbh. Were you popular in high school? What was your reputation like? No; I was just the average teen. Have you always known your sexual orientation or did something happen to make you realize it? Somethings happened. There were a lot of hints building up before I even began to consider the possibility, but a daydream solidified it as fact. What was the hardest part of your last break up? Realizing I still wasn't "ready" or "fit" for a successful relationship. What brought you out of the hardest period in your life? As strange as it sounds, my suicide attempt put it into action. I was obviously hospitalized for a while, and then I was brought into a month-long partial hospitalization program that has a fucking genius psychiatrist, and I also had daily therapy as long as school days during the week. It was the intense help I needed. What's your favorite kind of smiley face? (: Does anybody know your deepest darkest secret? My old therapist and maybe my mom; I can't remember if I told her. Did you ever watch Rugrats? (the babies) I LOVED that show! I even had two of the video games. What about Hey Arnold? Ugh, I hated it, but I think my little sister did, or we just watched it if we couldn't find anything else. Do you like pep rallies? NO. NO. NO. My teachers always understood that they really stoked my anxiety and allowed me to opt out of going. I'd just stay in the classroom and read or something. Have you ever had pneumonia? No. What do you feel about surgeries? Do they worry you? I fear anesthesia awareness, but not to a debilitating degree or anything that makes me panic beforehand or anything like that. Do you play Minecraft? if so, feelings about servers? Never have, and not interested. Do you read creepypastas? Nah. Do you think vlogging in public is scary? It seems awkward as FUCK to me. Even alone. Have you been to an escape room? Was it a success? No. What social class would you say you're in? I think we're actually near the poverty line (or were, idk anymore, Mom slipped it before), so definitely lower. Have you ever recorded a cover of a song? No. How do you feel about guns? They scare me. What's the most traumatizing event that ever happened to you? A very abrupt and poorly-executed breakup while being madly in love to the point of obsession with the person. Are you faint to the sight of blood? No. Do you like spicy food? Yes. Do you have good dreams or nightmares more? Well, considering I was woken up by myself shrieking my lungs out this morning, guess. It seemed for a little bit that my nightmares were chilling out, but I guess not. When was the last time someone insulted you? What was the insult? Does my mother telling me I'm saying too many "f-bombs" count? I dunno otherwise. What’s your second favorite color? Maroon. Do you ever wish you lived in a different country? Hey Canada, mind adopting me? Who’s the last person you “pounded” fists with? Ha, I think my nephew. Have you ever been involved in an affair? No. Wait, maybe? Does the Joel thing count? We never even physically met each other, we were just being idiot kids flirting over text messages. You be the judge, ig. How many times a week do you speak to your boss? I don’t have a job. What do you want for your birthday? Just donate to my tattoo fund lmao. Having to get my laptop fixed fucked up my plans yet again... Have you ever been to a masquerade? No. Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? A handful, yeah. Who in your phone has a heart after their name? Just Sara does. Anything you’re avoiding? Always. After breaking up, what’s the worst? Letting go if you're the one who still has feelings. Does your sibling have a significant other? I don't know if my brother does, or the half-sister I've never met. Another sister is engaged, and two are married. Nicole is single, though. She's smart as hell about who she dates; she's probably pickier than me. Do you use Skype? Just to talk with Sara. Are you a fan of acrylic nails? I wouldn't wear them, but they look fine on some people. Except when they're square shaped. Name one happy song that describes you better than any other. "Get Up" by Mother Mother comes to me first. Name one sad/mellow song that describes you better than any other. Haha I connect with a lot of sad songs and would honestly rather not dig through 'em right now. What is your most used pick up line? None, they're all awful. Do you like the taste of alcohol? Noooooo no no. The only alcoholic drinks I like are very weak and sweet. What kinds of food make you sick? So this probably sounds so stupid, but "fancy" foods, like stuff with a lot of ingredients my body isn't used to, I guess. My stomach is very finicky with foods, so it's easy to make this list.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''creatures x: to the grave'' by motionless in white

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sarahhlauren · 4 years ago

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Okay. Here we go. I’m really not sure where to start so I guess I’ll start from the beginning of all this madness. It was May 18, 2019. My mom’s birthday. I headed to work in the afternoon. I always closed on Sunday nights. My favorite bartender was working. We had spent the night making stupid jokes and making each other laugh until the last customer walked out the door. I closed at work like I usually did, not trying to stay too late because it was a school night. Monday morning comes, I wake up and for the first time, my body was not mine. It was not my own skin, it was not my own legs, my own hands. I couldn’t tell you what my face looked like because it was maybe 2 weeks until I could look at myself in the mirror. But, the world did not stop. There was work to be done, right? I had my first therapy session at 9 am, because prior, I had been dealing with severe depression, a final at 11, and my last final at 2. I had to focus on doing well and finishing out the semester, putting aside the fact that I felt like a ghost in my own body and mind. For the record, I got a 4.0 that semester, for the first time ever in college.

So it's late afternoon, I made it through my finals. I text my best friend, saying I need to come over and talk. As soon as I laid on her bed, I burst into tears as it took everything in me to say the words, “He raped me.” Even now, a year later, I hate that. It will never not make my stomach hurt. Within an hour, I was talking to three police officers, going over the incident in disgusting detail over, and over, and over again. Being asked questions a young woman should never have to be asked, especially by three young male officers. A few hours later, I was at the hospital. I went through the entire questioning process again from the nurse. A few moments later, I found myself standing there, naked. Being photographed, touched by a stranger, poked and prodded. I will never forget the posters of puppies with silly hats they have on the ceiling, as if that’s supposed to distract you from the flashes of the camera as you lay with your legs in the air. She forgot to mention that the hospital’s Plan B would have me in bed for 2 days. It felt like my insides were being scraped out with a rusty fork.

A few days later I eventually came home, and my mom was eager. She knew something was wrong but wanted to let me tell her on my own terms. The look in her face as tears streamed down her face fills me with so much anger I could punch something. That she had to hear those words and understand the gravity of the situation, and that I was pursuing legal action.

It was exactly one week after I saw him again. Not only did I see him, but I worked with him. Not just this one night, but for months. Because the investigation was active, I couldn’t say anything to my managers. This was the hardest part. For weeks, to act like everything was normal. To act like I wasn’t having multiple panic attacks throughout my shift. To act like I wasn’t getting alerts on my apple watch that my heart rate was pushing 120 bpm for hours. To act like I wasn’t in the presence of my rapist, as he was still approaching me. To act like I was listening to customers talk, when I was blacked out. If I didn’t act like things were normal, it could jeopardize the investigation. I am fully aware that some people may be questioning my actions. I don’t feel I have to defend myself to anyone. It was an impossible and unimaginable situation. I did the best that I could at the time, and I am so proud of myself for it. I chose to not take the easy way out. I chose to not quit my job. I chose to fight.

About early June, I was finally able to tell my GM what happened. I told them, “I do not feel comfortable working with him, ever again.” The very next shift, a few days later, my GM told me he was working that night and asked if I would “be okay.” What was I supposed to say? If I said no, I would get sent home, and in my mind at the time, that was letting him win. He took so much from me and I refused to let him take any more. So I worked with him that night, and for months. Being retraumatized over and over and over again. It wasn’t until months later that I could see how toxic that environment was for me. In the moment, I truly thought that I could just tough it out and I would be okay. I couldn’t see how much worse those months made my PTSD. Solidifying dozens of triggers, some still unknown to me until I face them.

About 5 months pass by, no news on the investigation. I had heard nothing from the investigator. These months were such a cycle of torture. My job wouldn’t do anything about him without a police report, and the police weren’t giving any updates. Nothing was moving. Meanwhile I am working with him a few days a week, retraumatizing my brain and body dozens of times over.

Trauma, anxiety and depression are really weird. Yes you have the common symptoms of lethargy, no motivation, sleep or appetite issues, but I feel like nobody talks about the blackouts and the memory loss. I have such little memory except for anything trauma related for those first few months. I can tell you every little detail about the following days, and weeks related to the incident. I can tell you what kind of car he has, his license plate, the exact parking spot that he parked his car in. I can tell you exactly what time he drove to work, which days he worked. I checked his schedule every week so I had time to mentally prepare myself to work with him on a given night. Do I remember my college visits? Not really. Do I remember anything I did that summer? No, unless I look back at photos. The memory loss is real, and it's weird.

Finally, my job transferred him to a different store. I felt a sense of freedom. Freedom to turn around at work without fear that he was looking at me. Freedom to walk to my car at night without a manager’s escort. Freedom to feel comfortable again, or at least try to.

Around mid-October, I met with the investigators again about the progress of the case. This time, it was two women investigators and I in a small room in the Sex Crimes Investigation Department in Orange County. It felt like they were on my side, or at least they were supposed to be. I didn’t anticipate being thoroughly questioned again. The same intrusive questions felt different coming from a woman, almost worse in a way. We got to the point where the investigators told me straight up, “it's your word against his, we have no proof of his guilt and without it, can’t move forward.” That was it. It was over. There was nothing I could do.

I did my best to move on, whatever the heck that means. There’s a lot I could say about my healing process, that is still very much going on and will be for a while. I’ll try to keep it limited. The most important thing I want to say about it, is that it is not linear. From May-August I thought I was fine, I was in denial. Then, someday it hit me and I understood the situation on a different level. One of the things I learned is how depression can impact memory. I have little memory of that summer, outside of events and emotions related to my assault. Each day brings something different. Similar to grief, some days are better than others. Triggers that once upset me, no longer upset me. Triggers I didn’t know existed last August, send me into a panic now. I still live in constant fear of seeing him, knowing that he is out there, living his life. Working through PTSD on top of preexisting mental health conditions was more than I ever could have imagined. It’s hard, it sucks and I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. I don’t have much else to say about that right now.

One of the most interesting concepts I read about in a book about trauma is called “learned helplessness”. I remember learning about this maybe junior or senior year in psychology class, but it never stuck until it applied to me. “Learned helplessness, in psychology, a mental state in which an organism forced to bear aversive stimuli, or stimuli that are painful or otherwise unpleasant, becomes unable or unwilling to avoid subsequent encounters with those stimuli, even if they are “escapable,” presumably because it has learned that it cannot control the situation.” Essentially, it explains why traumatized individuals tend to stay in the environments or climates that harbor the trauma. For me, it helps to explain why I stayed at work instead of quitting.

At the risk of sounding cliche, I would not be where I am today without the support system that I have. I am grateful every single day for my family and loved ones who support me unconditionally and have been with me at any point in this process.

I want to recognize how lucky I am, because I truly am. I am lucky to have been in a position where I could go to the police for help (regardless of the outcome), because many victims do not have that luxury. I am lucky to have had access to medical care. I am lucky to have continuous access to mental health professionals. I am lucky to have friends and family who believe me, who never questioned me. I am lucky that it wasn’t worse than it was. I am lucky to be alive, because not everyone is as lucky as I am.

I have a lot of reasons as to why I wanted to share my story. I want to make very clear that pity and attention are neither of my reasons. One of the main ones, is that I want to contribute the conversation about sexual assault and sexual violence. A big part of what motivated me to pursue legal action was the thought of me not being his last victim. Almost immediately I felt a sense of responsibility. Responsibility to do something about this, because again, I am lucky enough to have access to resources to do so. I hope this can spark conversations about the necessity of affirmative and continuous consent, regardless of circumstances.

Another big reason is to highlight the series of injustices throughout this process that have nothing to do with my rapist. I will not name names, however many of you will know the people that I am talking about. In no way am I attempting to slander them, I aim to simply draw attention to where I felt they failed me. I just want everyone to do better. To try harder. To do the right thing, regardless of company policy or whatever hardship it might bring them.

The first one, I believe was on behalf of the police. I understand the need to secure the privacy of the investigation, but they told me to “go back to work and act like everything is normal.” This was, and is wrong. I felt like I had to, because the police told me, and I’m supposed to trust them, right? Wrong. I feel they could have come up with a better solution, providing me more support than that.

The second one, would be by SO many people within the company that I worked for. My GM, the senior HR manager, and the 2 regional managers who were aware of the situation. All of them had the ability to not only relocate him, but fire him at the snap of their fingers, but they didn’t. I have my thoughts on why they didn’t, and all of them put my wellbeing at the bottom of the pile. The senior HR manager called me every so often to check in, and see how I was doing. It was made very clear that he didn’t give a shit about me and this was just a routine part of his job when he told me over the phone, “Thank goodness I don’t have a daughter, only sons.” This HR manager ultimately ended up telling my rapist the police were involved, which is very much illegal for a few reasons, and is ultimately responsible for ruining the investigation.

The third one was the investigator within the Special Victims Unit assigned to my case. Take this one with a grain of salt. I don’t know if I just got a subpar investigator or this is how they all are, but Olivia Benson would put them to shame. Without going into too much detail, I never felt heard. I felt like they couldn’t wait to get this case out of the way and never put in any real effort.

I would absolutely be lying if I said that I didn’t have any anger. I am so angry. I am fucking angry that this happened. I am so angry at all the ‘adults’ that I went to for help, and didn’t receive it. I am angry that I’m not the first girl that he’s done this to. I’m angry that I can’t prove it. I’m angry that in a court of law it’s his word against mine. I’m angry that he admitted he heard me say no, but it was the one time I didn’t put my phone in my pocket and take a voice recording. I am angry that a year later, I am still suffering every single day. I still have nightmares. I still have panic attacks. I still think about it every damn day. I am angry that he gets to live his life as he wishes. I am angry that I am filled with petrifying fear that it will happen again. I am angry that I’ve spent months, now a year, in therapy talking about him. I am angry that I am angry!!

20% of women will experience rape in their lifetime, and 1 out of every 10 rape victims is male. This is real and it happens. It happened to me. But it didn't have to. And it doesn’t have to keep happening. We all hold the power to make it stop. Start the conversations. Don’t laugh at jokes about sexual assault, because it’s not funny. Correct your friends, family, coworkers, bosses, and neighbors when they make jokes that contribute to rape culture. Stop supporting that behavior. If you see something, DO SOMETHING. Be the one to stop it. Be the one to step in. Be the difference. Break the cycle, do better, be better.

Again, thank you to all of those who have stuck by my side at any point in my journey. I appreciate you all more than you know and I love you all so much more than my words can possibly express.

Thank you, and you know who you are, for showing me what it’s like to be respected, to be loved. That it's possible to be comfortable in my own skin. To let your light shine through to the darkness that existed within me. To show me how strong I am, what I am capable of, and what I am worth. I am forever grateful for you and your grace.

For those of you who aren’t as fortunate, I am here. I am here to listen, to confide in, to help, to advocate, to love, to protect you. I am here for you.

For those of you know someone who has experienced sexual assault or violence, believe them. Be there and listen to what they want and what they need. Love them and remind them of the good, because there is so much more good than bad in the world.

For those of you that have read this far, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to hear my story. I hope to have impacted you for the better.

-sb :)

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ericleo108 · 5 years ago

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Video Journal 02/13/20 - Published 108

Hey, welcome to the Journal for Thursday, February 13th, 2020 “Published 108.”

youtube

My name is Eric Leo, I’m a sociologist, social psychologist, philosopher, author, and hip-hop artist and this is my journal where I talk about myself and my philosophy!

108 Book

I published my book. I have received copies and everything looks good. You can buy “108 The Story of Discovering Earth’s Consciousness” online through my publisher at Author House. Thank you for your support. I wish I had money to invest in promoting it but I don’t. I’m going to try and send some copies to select people and promote it to other blogs.

Moving, Diet, and Exercise

I moved into my own apartment at the beginning of January. I am much happier. My mother helped me get settled, afford basic necessities, and some work out equipment. She bought me a Bowflex 5.1 work-out bench and 552 series select-tech dumbbells. I work out 4-5 days per week.

On February 12th I weighed 242.4 pounds, so I’ve lost about 8 pounds since December 30th, 2019 when I weighed 250 pounds. I’ve lost less weight than I expected but I’ve been working out so I’ve probably been gaining muscle and muscle weighs more than fat. I just started taking measurements of my chest, stomach, and butt to make sure I’m making progress. I know I’ve been making progress because my pants fit better.

I started biking on my budget Peloton. I started out at 10 minutes per day and it was hard. I increased it by 5 minutes every week. Now I’m up to 30 minutes on the bike on days I work out. I put on a playlist of the late shows from the previous night and watch them while I ride. I have a pretty good system down. It keeps me motivated and gives me structure but is also why I don’t work out on Sundays and Mondays because there was no late show the previous night. I’ve been drinking my GFuel every morning as a pre-workout.

After I get done with the bike I do a muscle group of weight lifting like chest, back, shoulders, legs, or arms. I’ve been keeping myself sore. I had an issue with my right arm feeling pain but I stretched my peck and got a check-up at physical therapy and all has been well. All systems are a go.

I used to exercise like crazy in high school and college and was, what most would consider, ripped. I still have a lot of the muscle underneath all my fat and I plan to get back to being ripped. I hope to get a chin-up bar and gravity boots to do pull-ups and inverted sit-ups after I get below 200 lbs… like I also used to do back in the day.

I’m on Atkins or a ketogenic diet, it has been a lot better for my acid reflux. I keep a calorie deficit on my diet while staying in ketosis. I’ll cheat with carbs every other weekend. I try not to cheat on calories. I don’t count calories like I used too back in 2017 although I guestimate often. I probably get around 1000-1500 calories per day, burn 3-500 calories working out with 50-60 grams of protein, which I understand is less protein than recommended. My biggest concern is getting enough protein for my workouts and to maintain muscle mass as I lose weight. I stay in ketosis so my body burns fat and not muscle. I do intermittent-fasting and only eat between 1 and 9 pm, usually. I eat a lot of nuts, cheese, pickles, greens, carrots, protein powder, eggs, chicken, and diet pop.

Stem Cells

I recently saw Joe Rogan’s podcast #1066 about stem cells. I didn’t know it could be used to cure autoimmune diseases. I also didn’t know it could be used to regrow tissue like in tendons.

I personally got excited when I heard about the capabilities of stem cells. In 2010 I had a scope on my knee for a multi-lateral meniscus tear. It hurts most days by the end of the day. So I looked into getting an injection of my stem cells to regrow my meniscus and it’s not covered by medicare because it’s not yet approved by the FDA. I can’t afford the 5-7 thousand dollars it would cost to get the procedure. I’m disappointed in America but hope it will be approved and available within the next couple of years.

Living On Disability

I look forward to having a conversation with the nurses that work at St. Joseph Community Mental Health when I get my shot each month. I still don’t have Hulu, I can’t afford it yet. I plan on canceling my audible subscription this month to save some money. They’ll pull me back in eventually with another free trial like they always do.

My credit score dropped 12 points from 807 to 795 since December 20th, 2019 because I have a couple of hundred dollars on my credit card after buying that GFuel, audio interface, and moving expenses. Like I explored in the last journal when you only live on several hundred dollars a month and can’t make much extra money it’s hard to afford much. I have been utilizing the local food bank to save money on groceries. I’m on a spending freeze until I get it paid off. I’m focused on paying off the balance. This means spending little to no money on gas. I really want my credit score above 800 again.

I can’t smoke weed in my apartment without being evicted so I’ve basically quit after years of daily smoking. I only smoke with friends away from my apartment now; usually about every other weekend. Apparently, I can have a cat if I want one though.

Make America Think Harder

I want to vote for Bernie Sanders as long as he wins the primary and it seems like he will. My second choice is tied for Yang or Warren but I would be happy with Buttigieg. I’m not a fan of Trump, although I respect the president, I will be voting for whatever Democrat wins the primary. Besides being with Emma Watson, there’s nothing I want more than Bernie to win the primary and election.

It’s worth mentioning I support term limits for congress and the supreme court. They should have to live with the laws they enact in the private and public sectors whichever they choose to pursue after their term. I also think they should be paid retirement wages from social security and have the same healthcare from social security just like everybody else. If they want to improve their standing while in office, they have to do it for everybody.

The last journal I said I wanted to be a professor. I am also thinking about being a real estate broker or agent, get my real estate license, and also build wealth through real estate investing. It will probably take me a year or two for me to get where I want to be health-wise and solidify what I want to do. Both being a professor or real estate guru has been an appealing career for me for a while. I would be happy with either or both and could still pursue being an author and hip-hop artist.

In Conclusion

Check out the Treatise and Journal Description List

Thank you for being here Thank you for watching, Thank you for being a part of my family You're awesome! I love you very much

#Published 108 #book #published #stem cell therapy #BowFlex #Bernie Sanders #exercise #keto #ketogenic diet #atkins #losing weight

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fatcatlosing-blog · 5 years ago

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150 pounds in a year?

Yep, losing 150 pounds in a year is a crazy big goal. And I would be pretty happy if I lost a third of that! But I like to set really big goals; that excites and motivates me. So I’m putting it out there.

I’m currently 275 pounds tonight; actually, about 270 — the first five pounds are really carb water weight so I’m calling it 270. I’m a 5'6" woman and would like to weigh 120 pounds. That is a *very* aggressive goal for me. Again, I would probably be pretty happy at 130, or 150, or 180, or even 220! But 120 pounds has always been a magic number for me and I would love to experience life at that weight. So, the task at hand is: 150 pounds to lose :-)

How did I get this way? I was a normal weight through childhood and high school (maybe around 150 pounds). Then, in college I dropped pretty quickly to 132 and was THIN. It was wonderful, words can’t describe it. I would feel my body in bed and enjoyed it so much. Then I went through a lot of stress and a breakup in grad school, and decided that it would be a good idea to eat a lot to soothe myself. I meant that time period to last 3 months, it lasted 15. Whoops. So I bounced up to 200 pounds — yikes! Then, I managed to drop down to 155, stayed there for a bit, then crept up to 185. At that point, I did really dumb things for about 7 years! I did starvation low carb diets during that time, and bounced around between 155 and 200. Miserable! But I was very single, everyone I knew was getting married, and I was so desperate to get thinner so that just once — a guy I liked would like me back. Instead of always choosing someone else (who was always ALWAYS at least 60 pounds thinner than me).

So I solidified the binge eating disorder I had started in grad school — starvation diet followed by binging. Gosh, that yo-yoing. So around 34, I decided to get professional help for that, and my anxiety. WORST DECISION EVER. The anxiety drug he put me on made me just eat and eat and eat — I warned him this had happened to me in the past, he blew off my concerns. I blew up to 295 pounds. I put on almost 100 pounds in treatment for an eating disorder. Thanks team! My therapist was a joke — she wanted me to stop dieting. I was *very clear* that my goal was to not be fat anymore. My psychiatrist suggested weight loss surgery at the end — well, dude — I was only overweight when I walked in here, and I left morbidly obese, so hey-want to take any blame here? I’m sure you can tell, I’m still mad, but believe very firmly that happiness is the best revenge. I do plan to make an appointment with him when I’m thin, though.

I recently worked with a weight loss clinic, but only lost 20 pounds in a year, and the drug they put me on made my blood sugar weird, so I’m back on my own again.

Here’s the thing — this is my very last shot at the life I always wanted and honestly always assumed I would have. Married with a kid. I’ve been too fat to even think about dating for the last few years, and before that was honestly too heavy to attract anyone I liked. I’m 39 so majorly out of time. With my calculations, I have about a year left to lose as MUCH WEIGHT AS POSSIBLE, so I can meet someone, quickly get married, and if we’re very lucky, have a kid. Time is totally out. It feels like an impossible task, but it’s what I want the most out of this life, so I have to try. I have a Plan B if it doesn’t work out — which may be interesting, but I do want to try for Plan A.

A bit about my health — I’m actually pretty healthy. I have some anxiety, which is well under control at the moment — no drugs! I have one bad joint, but it was bad before I was heavy. The heaviness doesn’t help, but it’s under control. Shockingly, my blood pressure is normal, cholesterol is on the lower side, and my blood sugar is fine. For now, for all of these things. So though you might think I’m trying to lose weight for my health, I don’t need to at the moment. Maybe it helps because I haven’t been super fat for very long, and I’ve been a vegetarian most of my life. I also have never stopped exercising, no matter what has been going on with me. My main cardio now is aqua-jogging! You put on a flotation belt and pretend to run in a deep pool — feet don’t touch. Great exercise if you haven’t tried it. Nothing like the feeling of being weightless in the pool.

Well, here’s how I’m going to do it. I love the NIH’s BodyWeightPlanner tool ( https://www.niddk.nih.gov/bwp). I plugged in my plan, and it shows me getting to 120 in about a year.

Calories: 1800 to start. Drop 50 calories every month. Last month at 1200. Nothing too drastic. For hunger reasons, I’m going to try for 25% carbs, 35% protein (which at the start is 105 g carbs, 150 g protein). So, a moderate diet full of veggies, nuts, olive oil, yogurt, oatmeal, a bit of whole-wheat bread, and some frankenfood protein things (because I’m a vegetarian). Maybe about 2/3 clean food.

Exercise: swim 6 days a week, weights 3 days a week, abs 3 days a week. Ease slowly into this, since I’m older and the body doesn’t recover like it used to. Right now, I swim about 3 times a week, weights/abs maybe twice. Plan is to start swimming 20 minutes 6 times per week, then add 5 minutes each week until I’m up to 75 minutes each day. For the abs/weights, start at 5 minutes a day, then add 5 minutes each week until I’m at 30 daily minutes. Once I get to about 200 pounds, I’m going to add in a daily walk. Again, start slowly, only 10 minutes per day, then slowly build up to an hour walk. This is a lot of exercise, but I generally enjoy it. It’s good for anxiety, and I hope if I take the build up really slow, it won’t be too painful. Friday will be my exercise rest day (though I will stick to my diet — it’s not a cheat day, those don’t work for me).

The website says this will work. I have a very colorful tracking sheet to keep me on track. I feel like I just have to jump on this slide, follow the directions exactly, and I will emerge at 120. You would think with over a decade of intense dieting experience, I would know it’s not easy. But I’m going to try to keep positive. I guess I just don’t know what I’m going to replace food with. It’s one of the great joys and loves of my life — overeating that is. Being so pleasantly full. Feeling comforted. The bliss of not having to think, just eat. It is SUCH a joy. I was thinking I would write on this blog instead.

A little more about me — I’m a bit shy. So no full pictures of me, I am the last of the GenXers so don’t really get publishing too much about your life (that can be traced to you!) online. So I’m going to try to stay anonymous. But something in me just wanted to share all these feelings — and I can’t really tell my friends things as plain as this — and therapy was a disaster for me — so I’m trying this. I will put up (face cropped out) pictures when I’m maybe closer to 200 pounds. I haven’t seen a picture of myself (or looked in a full mirror) since I got above that amount and worry I would be too freaked out, so no pics until later!

Please wish me luck and if you feel inspired, please pray for me, and for all of us who want to go after what we really really want in this life.

#lose weight #weight loss #dieting

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sugirandom · 6 years ago

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Low-key stress stuff under the cut...it got long because I’m bad at keeping stuff short when I have feelings I guess...

So, being here has been a lot of emotional ups and downs. On the surface level I really like my job, my coworkers are nice and helpful...but at the same time it is hard work and it also seems like I’m only satisfied if the kids appreciate the class...it’s really hard for me to feel satisfied when I’m teaching a class of kids that are there because their teachers made them come and they have no real invested interest in English...and I don’t even blame the kids...these kids work their butts off in school, probably have an after-school sport or other activity to go to and then they come to our place...so they don’t get much actual playtime...

I mean our place does strive to make English fun but it doesn’t come naturally in every room we have at our school. I try to just shrug that part off and for the most part I’m doing fine with that but...like...

It’s hard work...it’s a long day...even if I might have brief moments to sit down in-between I’m standing for several hours a day which make my knees quite miserable. That and I’ve felt a little bit of...um well my bosses and H.R. acting kind and flexible iat first, like when it comes to .my inflamed knees for example...where I thought I was going to be allowed to get out of a class that would be difficult for me to do with physical therapy forms from home but then H.R. later decides I need a note from a Japanese teacher...

so yeah...okay...no reason for it other than “we’re a Japanese company.” but whatever...so I went to the doctor...got x-rays...told him why I was there...and he looks at my knees and basically tells me it’s not that big of a problem so he doesn’t feel comfortable writing a note to get me out of that class. It’s basically a class where we have to teach the kids a choreographed dance...right...so he sees I have problems with my knees...and btw my back is getting worse since that showed up on the freaking x-ray and this is the first time it has in years (used to only show up on an MRI) but sure...just give me some pain meds, charge me for the x-ray and send me on my way.

The only thing I know for certain is I will do everything in my power to not be placed in that class...we can make switches with our coworkers before class if there’s a mutual agreement so I’ll probably do that...and if that fails...guess what? I’m still not dancing...it will be an awkward experience for the kids, me, and whoever is watching but I don’t give a damn...my health is more important...this will really be a test of this company.

so...mehh some things are good some things are mehh...not to mention we’ll basically be required to put in overtime the last week of March and that’s not sitting well with me either...it is again a case of I like being in Japan...the neighborhood I live in is nice, the people I meet when I’m off work are nice, working at this place is mehh and depending on how they handle me not getting the doctor’s note (I may be paranoid but I almost feel like they insisted I get a note from a Japanese doctor because they knew it wouldn’t be an issue to a Japanese doctor...since I had the same problem two years ago when I saw a doctor in Kyoto but IDK). I’m disappointed because I’d like to stay here the year but...if it’s going to be too much for my health I might not be able to....we’ll see...nothing is final either way yet...btw I’m just now starting to feel better...I’ve been sick for a little over a moth since the cold decided to change into bad allergies and...the doctor gave me hella weak medicine so I didn’t start feeling better until the package with stuff from home arrived in the mail.

I don’t want you guys to worry about me though...I’m fine...just a little bit of struggle...On the positive end I’ve basically solidified the idea that I feel this standard 9-5 lifestyle really isn’t for me and that ideally I’d like to pursue something closer to a freelance/independently employed lifestyle if I can figure out how to do it and make a living...Poppy and I are talking about vacation plans in August too but like...I’m getting anxious and the only thing that’s keeping me somewhat sane internally is my attempt to just tackle one day at a time even though my brain doesn’t work that way at all...I still don’t sleep well...

Anyway, I guess my rant is over...I’m just venting...who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to squeeze out of that class for a little longer if my coworkers take mercy on me... I don’t know...thinking is hard.

I at least had a nice massage today and did karaoke yesterday...that was nice... ughhhh can someone pay me to go to karaoke for a living? ughhhh I also bought copic markers but have no drive to draw so...I’m not using them...I’m sorry I was supposed to be done here...

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pet-diary · 6 years ago

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【#GradblrChallenge & 100 Days of Productivity】

■ 08.01.18 // (day 001/100) ———————————————— I’m getting a bit of a late start with the Gradblr Challenge, because we were on a trip over the weekend and just got back yesterday (I’m still sooo exhausted). So today was my first official day of the challenge! I’m already feeling motivated to get my life in order and start being productive on a daily basis. I have some plans for organizing my time and habits, but for now I’ll just post about how I spent today. So, I don’t actually start my program until October 1st (I’m a first year master’s in CMHC student!), but in the mean time I have plenty to do… I’ve been having a hard time being productive recently (I lost my beloved kitty Twitch in May, and lost all motivation to do anything remotely stressful), so I’m making my Gradblr Challenge all about staying productive everyday (in at least some small way) and getting stuff completed piece by piece so I can be better prepared for school in the fall. I’ve tried the 100 days of productivity idea before, but only kept it up for a handful of posts. I figure making this challenge into a productivity focus will give me a bit of a theme to aim for.

How I was productive:

I saw my therapist today, which I was dreading, but it ended up being really good. We talked about looking into social skills training or some kind of support group for people on the spectrum that’s run by a trained facilitator. I like the groups I go to (and co-run), but they’re mostly focused on just talking about our problems or interests. It would be nice to have one that focused on learning better skills. I could really use some more scripts before school starts, jeez, I am terrified about the social piece of things… This is currently my BIGGEST hurdle to cross before graduate school begins.

After therapy, I went over to Starbucks and sat myself down with a big ol’ green tea latte and a protein cheese pack and started working on school related stuff. Basically just exploring the website and packets and documents they’ve sent. I learned a bit about internships, assigned advisors, and new student necessities. I cleared up (I think) some of the concerns I had about needing to have an advisor for my first class registration (I don’t think I do, I think that timeline task was for older students), and I found some key terms that might help me narrow down what I want to focus on in my career. I’ll try to post about that stuff later because I think other people might find it helpful. I spent several hours just reading all this stuff and learning as much as I could.

Before heading home, I stopped by the Theosophical Society bookstore for the first time. It was AMAZING. I found so many books I want to check out. They have a lending library! :o I bought Trev a book on animal intelligence (he’s working on getting his animal intelligence paper published as soon as he gets some free time to revise it), and I took note of some books on trauma, grief, and Jung among other topics that I want to look into more. They had a big section devoted to witchcraft too, and I got kind of excited about the idea of getting into that. I went home and did a lot more research on witchcraft because I seriously think it might be up my alley (lol, it feels weird to say that).

I felt pretty happy today in general, less socially anxious. I gave someone directions after over hearing he needed them (albeit slightly wrong directions, lol, but not too far off and more than he had before), and on my walk home I heard a guy playing Louis Prima’s Wanna Be Like You on repeat in his car and it made me smile, I love that song. :)

I might actually go to bed fairly early tonight! It’s only 10:44pm right now, which is earlier than it has been when I’m ready to wind down lately. Tomorrow I hope to solidify which classes I will be signing up for once registration opens, which professors would be best to get, and what times/days would be ideal.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 7 years ago

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My Eyes - Part 14

Pairing: Bucky; Steve x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,701

Story Description: Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.

Story takes place post “CA: CW” and all tension has been resolved.

Previously On…

-- 3 YEARS LATER

A car horn beeped outside. Jimmy came bounding down the stairs with his backpack.

“Hey! Please eat some breakfast before you go!” Y/N called out to her teenage son.

“I’m not hungry. And Bucky packed me a huge lunch.” Jimmy called over his shoulder before bounding out the front door. But he came back seconds later and quickly he poured himself a cup of coffee to go.

“I got you addicted to that stuff too soon. Don’t you know it’ll stunt your growth?” Y/N teased her son.

Jimmy scoffed. He took a few steps towards the door again, but turned around and hurriedly gave his mom a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, mom.” Then he was sprinting out the door once again.

Y/N had her knees pulled up to her chest as she sipped on her own cup of coffee. She sighed and looked up at Bucky, who had watched the usual morning routine with ease. “I don’t know how the hell that kid grew into a giant without eating the most important meal of the day.” She stated sarcastically.

Jimmy, quickly on his way to turning 16, had finally showed just how much of the super-serum gene he had inherited. He was even taller than Steve had been, reaching a towering height of 6’3. He was no longer the smallest kid in class; he was the tallest. His physique grew just as much as his height. Jimmy looked more like a professional athlete in his mid-twenties than a teenager going through puberty. His cute, boyish face turned into a handsome young man. Jimmy definitely didn’t miss out on Steve’s good looks.

Y/N called him a gentle giant. For as big and terrifying as Jimmy looked, he was still terribly shy and kindhearted.

But the move had given Jimmy the change he needed. He was still an outsider at school, but he had good friends. His best friend was Luke, who just happened to be openly gay; sadly, a rarity in the small town. He was the person that drove Jimmy to school everyday, already having his license and a car. For a while, Y/N believed there was a possibility Jimmy and him were secretly dating. Bucky quickly shot down her suspicions.

“How can you be so sure?” Y/N whined. “Gaydar wasn’t even a thing in your day. I think I know better than you.”

Bucky smiled at her frustration. “Trust me, doll. Jimmy and Luke are only friends.” He kissed her cheek. “He’s just terrified of girls…just like his dad.”

Y/N gave him a small smile at that. “For the record, I don’t care who he likes. I just don’t want him to ever think he has to keep secrets from me.”

“I know, Y/N.” Bucky chuckled.

Bucky had moved into Y/N’s house two years after her and Jimmy returned to New York. He had never been happier. Y/N and Jimmy had become the family he had always dreamed of having. They were so close to the Avenger’s facility that various teammates stopped by pretty much whenever.

Jimmy was constantly going over there as well. His abilities had developed not long after his terrifying fever that caused the move in the first place.

It turned out that Jimmy could control the density of his body. He could walk through a wall one second and the next he’d solidify his skin enough to stop a bullet.

To everyone’s surprise, Vision was the person to help Jimmy control his abilities more than anyone. Wanda was helpful too.

Tony tried to convince Y/N that Jimmy should just be homeschooled. The teenage boy learned more from the team than any school ever could. Jimmy could speak Spanish, French, German, and Russian fluently. He could even understand Wanda’s Sokovian… but wouldn’t consider himself fluent in speaking it himself.

Y/N asked Jimmy if homeschooling was what he wanted. But Jimmy knew how important it was to his mom that he had a normal childhood. They compromised with him going to a normal public school, as long as he could go to the Avengers’ compound as much as he wanted.

Y/N suspected that Peter Parker had something to do with it. He was in his late twenties now and knew what it was like to be special during adolescence. Sometimes New York’s friendly neighborhood spider was better at giving Jimmy personal advice than Y/N or Bucky.

Bucky now sat next to Y/N at the kitchen table with his own cup of coffee. “You know, Tony recently mentioned something about getting Jimmy a car for his 16th birthday.”

Y/N’s head snapped to him. “You better tell him that is absolutely not happening!” She immediately pictured Tony buying Jimmy a sports scar that cost more than their house.

“I tried, doll. But he just kept promising that it would be used and beat up.” Bucky smirked at the ridiculousness.

Y/N rubbed her face and groaned. She was still waking up. Her eyes were even still puffy with sleep. “Ugh…when is Tony going to stop acting like our financial backer?”

“Probably never.” Bucky pointed out with a chuckle.

Y/N shook her head, trying to get her mind to move on. “When’s your first class today?”

“Not until 5:30 tonight. But I promised Sam I’d go to the V.A. with him in a couple of hours.”

Thanks to Y/N’s guidance, Bucky’s retirement was filled with meaning. He taught self-defense classes consistently. Every once in awhile he would visit schools and be met with kids screaming in excitement. Sam also got him to visit the V.A sometimes. Bucky was somewhat of a poster child there, proving that things could get better for soldiers struggling to adjust back into civilian life.

Meanwhile, Y/N managed to work at the local library again. But she continued her art therapy sessions at a new community center too. After she realized how much it was helping children, she couldn’t imagine sitting back and doing nothing.

No matter how the two of them spent their days, Jimmy was always their main focus. For Bucky it was Jimmy and Y/N. Every day he woke up with her in his arms and wondered how the hell he got so lucky. Once in awhile, he would have a bad day: his mind would start convincing him that he was unworthy of this life of happiness. But Y/N always managed to talk him away from the ledge.

“What’s on your schedule today?” Bucky asked her.

“My day is completely free.” Y/N sighed in content. It was a rarity.

“Are you finally going to finish that stack of books you brought home?” Bucky asked mindlessly as he stared at the newspaper in front of him.

Y/N watched him for a moment. Bucky was still as handsome as ever. His scruff seemed to be a permanent fixture. His hair was in a messy bun on the back of his neck. One would never guess that he was retired seeing as his muscles were just as big as when he was a brainwashed Hydra killer.

“No. I definitely don’t want to read right now.” Y/N breathed mischievously.

Then she slowly got up from her seat and straddled Bucky. He didn’t seem as surprised by the gesture as she anticipated. Guess that’s what she gets for being with a trained assassin. Her hands rubbed his scruff and then brushed a piece of hair behind his ear that escaped his bun. His grip had immediately wrapped around her waist. His metal hand went under her t-shirt causing a chill to go down her spine.

“I had other plans.” Y/N added.

Bucky grinned up at her. “Is that so?”

“You said you didn’t have to meet up with Sam for a couple hours…” Her voice was seductive and then her lips were climbing up the side of his neck.

He nodded, sometimes her seductions still made him speechless. Then he felt her lust drifting off through her empath abilities. Y/N knew it drove him crazy: knowing exactly what she wanted was a turn-on that Bucky could never describe.

Not being able to take the teasing any longer, Bucky captured her lips and pulled her body closer to his.

Y/N yelped slightly when Bucky roughly brushed his chair back and stood up. She giggled when he kept her body tightly in his grasp. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he carried her to their bedroom.

---

Bucky must have accidentally fallen asleep post-coitus. He woke up naked and alone in their bed with the sheets tangled around his body. His instincts made him sit up quickly. Waking up without Y/N always caused him distress. A sensitivity he didn’t like admitting to her. “Y/N?” He called out sleepily. There was no answer.

Bucky got up from the bed and moved to the window of their bedroom. It looked out into the backyard that was more of a forest than anything. His stress instantly disappeared when he saw Y/N in her greenhouse.

When she and Jimmy moved back, Bucky built it for her. He knew she missed her house in Montana; it was a sanctuary she built all on her own. Y/N had almost cried when he showed it to her. She made a garden right next to it too.

Bucky had a small smile as he watched for another moment before throwing on a pair of jeans, not bothering with boxers or a shirt.

He thought he’d made his footsteps loud and known, but Y/N still hadn’t heard his entrance to the greenhouse. He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, observing her.

Y/N’s brow was furrowed, proving she was deep in thought. She just wore a silky robe. Bucky knew that was the only thing covering her body.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked softly.

Y/N couldn’t help but jump.

“I tried to be loud.” Bucky apologized. His sly tendencies were a constant annoyance to her. She hated being frightened and Bucky was just too quiet.

She ignored him and continued whatever she was working on before he interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Bucky walked further into the greenhouse.

“Ugh…trying to figure out how to plant these things.” She mumbled without looking up at him.

Bucky looked at the discarded packaging on a table. It was peppermint, ginger root, and slippery elm. His eyes narrowed. She never planted anything like that before.

He looked at her again and started becoming concerned as he saw the tension in Y/N’s body. He gently cupped her cheek. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

She finally acknowledged him. Her body relaxed a bit by his touch.

Bucky’s eyes were filled with concerned as he tried to read her mind. “Did I do something wrong while we were…” He was too much of a gentleman to finish his question.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong…” Y/N sighed.

“Why aren’t you still in bed with me, doll?” Bucky urged.

“James, I-I have something to tell you…” She whispered. Her hand instinctively reached for his and pulled it away from her cheek so she could grasp it for comfort.

He nodded.

“But I have no idea how to tell you.” She admitted, shaking her head slightly.

“Alright, you’re starting to scare me, Y/N. Please, just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.” Bucky assured her.

Y/N closed her eyes tight as if it was going to make her braver. “Right, okay!” She opened them and got lost in his blue irises. “I’m pregnant.” Her voice was such a whisper that Bucky wasn’t sure he would have caught it without his enhanced hearing.

He stared at her for a second and tried to figure out if this was cruel joke or something. But her face remained terrified, waiting for his reaction.

Then tears filled Bucky’s eyes and his new smile was beaming. “You’re pregnant?” He whispered in utter bliss.

Y/N still didn’t look relieved. But a nervous smirk slipped onto her lips and she nodded. “Yeah, Buck.”

Bucky lifted her up in the air and spun her in a circle. She couldn’t help but giggle at the reaction. When he put her down, he pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re sure?” He whispered. There went that dark part of his mind again, always struggling to believe in the good things that happened to him.

Y/N nodded. “Yes. After taking about three different pregnancy tests, I went to the doctor while you and Jimmy were on a hike.”

Bucky frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me then, Y/N?”

Their foreheads were still touching, but Y/N’s gaze fell to the ground in shame. “I-I didn’t know what you’d feel. We didn’t plan this and we never discussed it.” Then her expression darkened. “I don’t really have a good track record of telling people I’m pregnant.”

That’s when Bucky really understood her fear. It was coming off of her in waves now, whether she realized it or not. The last time Y/N told a man she was having his child, he died a few seconds later. She watched the life disappear from Steve’s eyes a moment after she told him she was bringing another into the world.

Bucky pulled Y/N into his chest. “Oh, doll. I’m so happy. Can’t you feel it?” He whispered as he stroked her hair.

Then a thought suddenly occurred to him. He pulled back to look at her and gripped her chin. How could he be so selfish?

“Is this what you want?” He asked her seriously.

“What? Having a child with you?” Y/N asked playfully. But she knew what he was really asking. “Of course. I’ve secretly wanted it for a while now, actually. I guess I should’ve told you.”

Bucky always speculated that he couldn’t have kids. Unlike Steve, he had been in and out of cryo so many times and Hydra had tortured him in so many ways. Bucky couldn’t help but convince himself that he was sterile.

Y/N probably kept her little desire to herself to protect Bucky. If they openly started trying and nothing happened, she knew he would only blame himself.

Bucky leaned closer to her once again, his hands mesmerizing her waist. “Y/N,” His voice was soft, yet husky. He kissed her passionately. “Marry me? Please?”

“Ew, Bucky.” Y/N pushed him away. “This isn’t the 1940s. You don’t need a shotgun wedding when you get your girlfriend pregnant anymore.”

But his face was serious. “It’s not about the pregnancy, Y/N. You know that.”

“Still a no.” Y/N chuckled and went back to her herbs.

This had become a game between them. Every once in awhile, when the moment arose, Bucky would propose to Y/N. It was always an intimate affair, always followed by her doing something that set a spark into his heart.

But Y/N never gave in. Yes, she had always wanted to settle down with Steve: raise a family and disappear from the public eye. But marriage was never a requirement or a desire for her.

Despite them viewing it as their little game, Bucky said ever proposal with the utmost sincerity.

But Y/N was a modern woman. Marriage held less and less meaning in society. She didn’t think it changed anything in a relationship. If you love someone, you love them. A piece of paper didn’t prove anything.

“You don’t even have to change your last name.” Bucky would plead.

“We don’t need to have a wedding. We can just elope!” He would point out.

“If it’s the money for a ring, I already have my mother’s. Those Smithsonian assholes still had it.”

Y/N tried to understand why Bucky was so insistent. Obviously marriage was a much bigger deal in his heyday. But there had to be something else, and she had yet to figure it out.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Bucky asked, seeing it sit on a nearby phone.

She nodded and handed it to him.

Bucky stepped outside for a moment.

Y/N eyed him curiously. “Who did you just call?”

“Sam. Told him you were sick so I couldn’t go to the V.A. with him.”

She smiled, realizing that she wanted to bask in their little secret together for as long as they could.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her from behind. His hands graced her stomach, feeling her in a new way now that he knew there was a life waiting in there…A life that he helped create.

Bucky kissed her neck. “I know we were already successful. But I think we should keep trying, just to be safe.” He mumbled into ear before pressing a kiss in the soft skin behind it.

“Buck,” Y/N giggled. “We were never trying.”

“Exactly!” Bucky exclaimed softly. “We’re already behind.” Then he softly turned her around and embraced her with a loving kiss. Y/N squeaked when he scooped her up in his arms.

They were almost back in the house when Y/N smiled naughtily up at him. “It’s good that you’ll be around. If I’ve learned anything from last time, it’s that I get extremely horny when I’m pregnant.”

As if Bucky needed any further encouragement.

“Yep. It’s decided. You’re not leaving this house for the next 9 months.” Bucky growled. There were few sounds that could arouse Y/N more.

---

“Bucky?”

He didn’t hear.

“Bucky?”

The road hypnotized him.

“James?” Y/N finally said urgently as she gripped his bicep.

He finally tore his gaze away from the highway to look at Y/N.

“You okay?” Her eyes were so tender and genuine as she asked.

Bucky sometimes forgot that she could feel everything inside of him if she wanted to. Y/N was too kind and polite to invade his privacy like that. But during times like these, she overlooked her principles. Nevertheless she always gave him a chance to tell her with his own words first.

“Just nervous.” Bucky mumbled.

“You’ve hung out with my family multiple times. I don’t understand what you think is going to happen.” Y/N smiled softly and gave his shoulder a little squeeze.

Yes, Bucky had interacted with her family on multiple occasions: Jimmy and Y/N’s birthdays, the holidays, and Jimmy’s middle school graduation. But he always assumed they were just being pleasant and nice to keep the peace with Y/N. She had already been through so much. They weren’t going to stop her from loving someone new after all this time. Her and Jimmy’s happiness were all they cared about.

But now that Y/N was pregnant again…pregnant with his child, maybe they wouldn’t be so pleasant. Bucky would be a permanent fixture in their life, whether it worked out with Y/N and him or not. But Bucky would die before he did anything to destroy their relationship or let it slip through his grasp.

“Yeah, Bucky. Now that I’m a hormonal teenager, they have nothing cute to fuss over. Grandma and Grandpa will freak out.” Jimmy said from the backseat.

Now Bucky felt guilty for not only worrying Y/N, but Jimmy too.

“I’m fine. I promise.” He announced to the car. Then he reached over and held Y/N’s hand to further assure her. She gripped it and sent calming waves with her empath power. He couldn’t deny that it felt good.

Y/N practically jumped out as soon as Bucky put the car in park. She missed her family so much. Seeing them a couple times a year was never enough. She was already inside the house before Bucky or Jimmy even unbuckled their seatbelts.

“Hey, Buck?” Jimmy asked quietly.

Towards the end of middle school, he had eventually dropped the Uncle part of his title.

They had a moment alone in the driveway.

Bucky had to slightly look up at Jimmy after his ridiculous growth spurt.

“I know my mom’s been stressing about how all of this affects me and everything.” Jimmy started. “I just wanted to say, I’m really happy for both of you.” He was looking at his feet and shifting as he shared the sentiment. Just like his dad, he had a good heart but wasn’t always the best at voicing it with confidence.

Bucky smiled at the boy. “Come here, punk.” He shoved him roughly into a hug.

When he pulled away, he gestured toward the house. “Think your grandpa will try to shoot me when we tell him?” Bucky joked.

Jimmy smirked. “Definitely not. But if he brings out a gun, I promise I’ll protect you.” He pestered before walking around him and entering the house.

---

“Honey, are you sure don’t want any wine? Not even with dessert?” Y/N’s mom asked once again at the dinner.

“I’m fine, mom.” Y/N whined. She looked across the table to see her older sister eyeing her suspiciously. Then her eyes shifted to Bucky, who was sitting to her left. He instantly knew this was their cue. His hand slid into hers for support. “Actually, we have news to tell you…”

Y/N’s mom dropped her fork dramatically. “Are you two getting married?” She practically shrieked in excitement.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the comment.

Once again, Y/N sent him a swell of calmness and squeezed his hand.

“No…we’re not getting married, mom.” Y/N sighed, completely unfazed by her incorrect guess. “But don’t blame Bucky. It’s not for a lack of trying on his end.”

The whole family looked confused… even Jimmy, who was unaware of Bucky’s constant proposals.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I’m… ugh... I’m pregnant.”

“I knew it.” Her older sister smirked. “You never turn down wine.” Y/N playfully glared at her. “Congratulations, sissy.” She added sweetly.

“Oh, that’s just wonderful!” Y/N’s mom screamed in excitement. Then she was moving around the table to hug Y/N and, to Bucky’s surprise, she went right for him immediately after.

Y/N’s dad, who was much quieter and bad with expressing affection, just smiled at Y/N from across the table.

Bucky watched their exchange carefully, realizing that they were having some kind of unspoken conversation. He suddenly felt guilty for their announcement not being an engagement. Lord knows he was trying. Steve never had to deal with the possible disapproval from Y/N’s parents for having a kid without being married. Bucky wondered if he was going to take twice the blame this time around.

Y/N’s mother was practically cheering as she went into the kitchen to get dessert and somehow managed to drag her husband with her. Y/N’s sister and Jimmy disappeared to watch a movie in the living room together.

“I told you they would be happy.” Y/N whispered to Bucky before giving him a quick peck.

He gave her a shy smile before pulling her in for another kiss.

“I thought you’d be more relieved.” Y/N’s smile faltered when she could tell that something was still bothering him. “Buck, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m happy.” He kissed her again, prolonging it this time.

“Gross. Get a room.” Jimmy joked as he walked back in.

Bucky playfully glared at him and threw his napkin in the teenager’s face. “Congrats, you just won yourself dish duty.” He caught it before it could hit him.

Jimmy groaned but didn’t argue. Without another word from Bucky or his mom, he started picking up the dirty plates from the dinner table.

“And thank your grandparents for dinner!” Y/N warned before Jimmy left the room with his hands full of dishes.

“He already did...twice. Boy’s more polite than you are, Y/N.” Her dad interrupted as he brought in a plate of brownies. “I think you have to thank that man of yours for Jimmy’s manners.”

Bucky blushed at the roundabout compliment.

“Does that mean I can thank you for my rudeness?” Y/N teased.

It was moments like these that made Bucky so grateful for Y/N. She was the only thing in his life that ever made him forget his past. Whenever he was with her, he just felt normal.

He was brought out of his head as he watched Y/N shove too much brownie in one bite. Resulting in half of it hanging out of her mouth.

Then she squinted at him and babbled something he couldn’t understand.

Bucky laughed at her antics.

When she finally managed to swallow the brownie, she laughed. “I said, ‘See, I do have manners!’”

---

It had been over an hour since Y/N fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Bucky had just been staring at the ceiling. He didn’t feel even remotely tried, despite the long day they had.

Finally he gave up. As quietly as he could, Bucky slipped out of bed. Y/N’s parents had a pretty deck in their backyard. He figured it would be a good place to think alone. In just a baggy pair of sweatpants, Bucky sat down in a chair and stared out at the fireflies in the distance.

A few minutes later he heard footsteps from inside the home. But he knew they were too heavy to belong to Y/N and they were too slow to be Jimmy’s.

The glass door slid open and Bucky glanced over his shoulder to find Y/N’s dad with two glasses of whiskey in his hands.

“Figured you’d be out here.” He muttered as if this meeting had been prearranged and handed Bucky one of the glasses.

Bucky instantly misread the situation. “Sir, I believe I owe you an apology.”

“An apology? What for?”

“Not asking for your permission before proposing to Y/N. I know we’re not engaged… but Y/N made the comment at dinner and-”

His tangent was cut off when Y/N’s dad started chuckling. “That’s a little outdated, don’t you think? Y/N is her own person. She doesn’t need my blessing or permission for anyone to propose to her. If you haven’t realized…my daughter has always been rather progressive and headstrong.”

Bucky relaxed a little. But he had no idea what the purpose of this conversation was now. He decided to take a sip of the whiskey and wait for some sort of direction.

“You’re starting to doubt yourself, aren’t you?” Y/N’s dad said while looking straight ahead. “About being a good father.”

Bucky swallowed.

“That’s why you couldn’t sleep, right?”

Bucky turned to him and nodded uneasily.

“Same thing happened to my when my wife was pregnant with Y/S’s/N. I convinced myself that I had no right raising another human being.”

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“James,” He never called him Bucky. “I’m not going to try and pretend to know what you’ve had to go through in life. But I do know one thing: you’re a good man. I see how happy you make Y/N. And it’s apparent what type of positive influence you’ve had on Jimmy.” He took a sip. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’ll make a great father.”

“What changed?” Bucky asked softly.

“Hmm?”

“What convinced you that you could be a father?”

“Honestly? Nothing. I was too busy worrying about Y/N’s mother. I couldn’t be selfish and waste time doubting myself while she was already living the pregnancy. So I just focused on her. Then when Y/S’s/N was born, I just took it a day at a time. Listen, I know that’s not very helpful. But nobody knows what the hell they’re doing… Especially the men. But you’ll figure it out. I promise.”

They finished their whiskey in comfortable silence. Bucky never really knew what Y/N’s father thought of him. What would any father think about The Winter Soldier dating their daughter? Bucky always assumed he thought he wasn’t good enough for Y/N. But that suspicion couldn’t withhold after tonight.

Bucky realized it was ridiculous to expect Y/N’s dad to think so low of him. After all, he raised her. That kindness and quiet confidence didn’t all come from just her mother.

Bucky eventually got back into bed with Y/N, who was still peacefully asleep.

However her body scooted closer to him as soon as he was back under the covers.

“Everything okay?” Y/N surprised him my asking.

He could tell her voice that she was only half awake. Her eyes weren’t even open.

“Y/N… Am I going to be a good father?” He whispered.

“No… you’re going to be the best.” Y/N answered before immediately falling back to sleep.

Bucky chuckled. He doubted that she would even remember their little conversation in the morning. But it comforted him nonetheless.

-------

Part 15

Sorry this took me longer than usual. I was traveling and work has been crazy. Thank you for your patience.

#marvel fic #marvel fanfic #bucky fluff #dad!bucky #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #marvel reader insert #bucky reader insert #My Eyes part 14 #bucky angst #jimmy y/l/n

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