#time is a social construct and I can bend it as I need to :3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soobmint · 4 years ago

Text

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

1K notes · View notes

okay-victoria · 3 years ago

Text

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

13 notes · View notes

buckleyirondad · 4 years ago

Photo

1. Let’s Hang Out Sometime “Shackled”

Tony only has minutes to save Peter.

AO3 Link

Tony could recall how chaotic his life had been, but not even taking on alien armies, with a team of elite superheroes, would mean as much to him, as his children did.

Morgan and Peter together, as sister and brother, deserved to be remembered, it was as beautiful as the Renaissance, because no photograph would ever capture Tony’s disbelief, whenever they darted into a room together.

Still, normal life carried on, whatever ‘normal’ meant.

Not many semiretired superheroes had adopted a self-sacrificing Spider-Kid, who managed to topple, head-first, into danger, without any real warning; Tony was sure he was the only one. He wouldn’t change anything though, even if the kid found a new way to almost give Tony a heart attack, every other week.

Tony was home alone, most weekdays, mindlessly doing paperwork for Pepper, or finishing household chores.

Selfishly, Peter was at school, Morgan was at Kindergarten, and everybody else was working.

Peter was in senior year, which meant, he was usually too busy to hang out with any of them, even after school. He’d even dropped a few patrol duties, to make sure he was concentrating on his upcoming tests. He didn’t stay over as regularly, as he used to, because more often than not, he was bunking over with Ned or MJ, desperately trying to ready themselves for the coming onslaught of standardized testing.

At night-time, Morgan started performing a bedroom ritual. She’d get out of bed, fifteen or so minutes after being read a story, sit on the floor outside her bedroom door, with her arms crossed. She’d pout, and sometimes even frown. Tony and Pepper would tell her to get back to bed, but their pleas would be ignored.

Morgan knew how to stand her ground.

Most nights they would ask her if she was thirsty, or if she wanted one of them to stay in her room until she was asleep. It never worked. Usually, she would fall asleep, waiting, and occasionally, she would stand down, when she got tired.

A silent protest, it seemed, but for what, they weren’t entirely sure. It wasn’t until Peter stopped over for a week when Morgan’s intentions become clear because she didn’t do when he was there.

She missed her brother.

‘Why didn’t you tell us that, Little Miss?’

‘Didn’t want you to worry.’

Oh, she was definitely her father’s daughter. He made sure to point out, that she could confide in him with anything, even if it was sad. He didn’t want her growing up, internalizing everything, he’d done that, and it sucked.

Morgan’s problem was a simple fix, they made sure Peter visited more often, on weekends, and every Wednesday afternoon, he collected her from Kindergarten; they’d go out for ice cream or waffles.

Tony was sprawled across his desk, with his face uncomfortably laid across a pile of paperwork that he was yet to get done, “Uhhh.” He groaned, “Fri, is it bedtime?”

“Bedtime is a social construct, Boss.”

“You—” He sat up, stretching his arms over his head, “You’ve been talking to Peter too much.”

A ringtone traveled around the office, and Tony’s computer screen lit up, Friday announced, “Incoming call from Morgan’s Kindergarten.”

Tony sat up straight, with narrowed eyes, he swiped his hand along, accepting the call, “Hello.”

“Mr. Stark—"

“Miss. Jenkins?” He raised an eyebrow, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.” She sighed, “Nobody has turned up to collect Morgan. I know these things can happen—”

Tony darted his eyes to the corner of his screen, to make sure he hadn’t skipped a day, but it was definitely Wednesday, “Peter is meant to collecting her today—” He interrupted, as his stomach dropped to his feet.

“Oh, of course.” Miss. Jenkins exclaimed, “Could something have come up and he forgot?”

Tony moved his hand across his screen and attempted to ring Peter’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail, “No, he’d never—”

The screen blinked, alerting him that he had another call waiting, from a blocked number.

“I—Something’s—” Tony rubbed the nape of his neck, “Uh, I’m gonna send somebody to pick Morgan up. Can you—” He stuttered, “Can you stay with her? Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” Her tone turned frantic, as had his, “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so.” He answered, before hanging up, but it was too late, the blocked number, had stopped calling, “Shit.”

“Boss, I have determined that May was the closest to Morgan, and I have instructed her to collect her.” Friday said, “She wants updates on Peter’s whereabouts pronto.”

Tony clambered out his chair, pacing, “Yeah, um—”

The piercing ring came again, but without having to be asked, Friday patched them through.

Tony crossed his arms across his chest, “Hello.” He barked, into the silence.

A familiar obnoxious sneer followed, “Anthony…”

Justin Hammer.

Fifteen years ago, he gave Ivan Vanko the ammunition to destroy innocent lives.

One of the lives that could have been claimed, happened to a young and undeniably brave, Peter Parker.

Tony lowered his voice, to a whisper, “Where’s my kid, Hammer?”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on-“ Hammer sung, “Can we catch up first?”

“No.”

Hammer hummed, “It feels like only yesterday, when I told your wife, that I was gonna make a problem for you.”

“Yeah?” Tony clenched his fists, by his sides, “I’m pretty sure you told her we were gonna be seeing you ‘real soon,’ but it’s been…” He chuckled gravely, “…What? Fifteen years.”

“In my defence, I was gone for five of those.”

“You make that sound like ten years is ‘real soon.’” Tony mocked, “I know, for a fact, you’re inside Maximum Facility – so, if you’re wasting my time—”

“Wasting your time?” Hammer laughed, “Is…your intern missing, Anthony?”

Tony learned that trick from Natasha, it was easy to get a bad guy to admit to their wrongdoings when you pretend to think that they are not the ones behind it.

Friday had traced Hammer’s call, and fortunately, he was still in jail, he was obviously using a burner phone, “Did Peter Parker forget to pick up your precious little daughter?”

“Where—”

Hammer shushed him, “You’ve got to applaud my brilliance, for I have outsmarted the guards and even you. From inside these walls, I’ve managed to pull off a…” He paused, “Tony Stark Heist. Let’s call it that. You took everything from me, and now I’ve taken part of your everything, from you.”

“Look—” Tony snarled, “Hammer, my kids have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but they do.” Hammer exclaimed, “I’m not a monster, don’t confuse me with that – Peter is at my Headquarters.”

“What?”

“I’m helping you.” He pointed out, “Peter Parker, is trapped inside, my Headquarters. The one your little Russian friend tore apart.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I love getting the last laugh.”

With that confession, he hung up.

“Friday—Can you—” Tony blurted, “Just get everybody!”

“On it, Boss.”

Tony pressed his chest, activating the nanotech suit; he rushed out, almost tearing the front door off its hinges.

He took the skies, concealing himself amongst the clouds. This was a trap, he’d be dumb not to see it, but Peter’s life was in danger, so logic had to be thrown aside.

Hammer Industries had closed down, following his downfall, but the Headquarters, stood unchanged. One of the only buildings that remained abandoned.

Tony landed, in what used to be the entranceway.

It was eerie, somehow, in a little over a decade, the building had aged, attributed to the graffiti on top of graffiti and nature was beginning the claim it back too.

Tony tore off the metal boards off the main entranceway, that had been put up to stop trespassers from entering, “Scan for life, Fri—” He found the door handle and made his way inside.

“One heat signature located.”

Blood rushed in his ears, he didn’t understand Hammer’s plan, but he knew it couldn’t be good, “Okay.”

He followed the schematics, towards the located heat signature.

It led him to a door, he rushed over, pulling it open, swiftly.

Peter’s voice screamed out, “Stop!”

Tony looked up, startled, “Kid—”

Peter sat, in the center of the room, shackled to chair, by his ankles and arms. His face was a gallery of superficial cuts and bruises, “Don’t move.”

“Okay, okay—”

Tony eyeballed the chains that were holding Peter, they’d didn’t seem particularly sturdy, they looked old. If he needed to, Peter could potentially escape them, but the kid was dangerously still.

“Pete?”

Tony’s stomach lunged forward, he fought against the bile rising in his throat.

There was a bomb, strapped to the side of the chair. How original.

Peter slowly bend down, he shrieked, tears welling in his eyes, “The timer—it’s –it’s going—"

“Boss, I believe you tripped the system.”

“I know.” Tony retracted his mask, “I’m sorry, kiddo.” He rushed over, kneeling in front of him, “It must be rigged, with the door.”

They had 3 minutes and 45 seconds – nowhere near enough time for Tony to unscrew it all and cut out the correct wires.

Tony used the lasers, in his gauntlet to cut through the chains holding Peter down.

Peter breathed rheumatically, “I can’t move—” He cried, “It will—”

“I know—” Tony cupped Peter’s cheek, “Fri, what’s the blast radius?”

“3.7 miles. There are currently 2456 civilians, in immediate danger.”

Of course, Hammer made sure there was collateral, putting Peter in harm’s way wasn’t enough.

Tony planned, on the spot, “Roll out the Iron Legion and inform the local authorities.”

“On it.”

Peter leaned into Tony’s palm, he choked out a sob, “You need to go.”

Tony snapped his head up, “Kid—"

“There’s no time, you’ve gotta get out—” Peter’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, “You know you can’t save me, this time, Mr. Stark.” He ducked his head, “There’s no point in throwing away your life…”

“Oh, kid…” He brushed tears off Peter’s cheek, with his thumb, “My Peter—”

Peter swallowed the lump, in his throat, “It’s okay.”

Tony leaned up, pressing a kiss on Peter’s forehead, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.”

Tony muttered, “You really don’t.” He quickly looped his hands under Peter’s arms, swiftly pulling him off the seat, he turned around, taking his place.

Peter yelped, swaying on his feet, trying to get used to the solid ground, “Tony!”

Tony managed a small smile.

Peter cried, with wide eyes, “You tricked me?”

Tony nodded, “Get ready to run, kiddo–” He cautioned, “—On my signal.”

Peter threw his hands out, “What signal?!”

“Friday.” Tony cleared his throat, “Initiate the ‘comfort blanket’ protocol.”

The front of the suit opened, and Tony clambered out of the chair.

“Now!” He grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him, out of the door.

Peter was limping, with a cry.

Tony locked an arm around him, lifting him off his feet.

As soon as they made it to the entrance, Tony leaped to the ground, shielding Peter in his arms.

The noise was deafening, but the blast wasn’t much.

“Wow.” Tony sighed, leaning his head on the concrete below, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Peter groaned, “Uh.”

“Hey there, kiddo.” He carefully helped Peter into a sitting position, “Never tell me that I can’t save you.” He bopped his nose, with his finger.

Peter bent forward, leaning his head on Tony’s arm, “What—” His voice cracked, “What is the comfort blanket protocol?”

Tony brushed his hands over the side of his undersuit, trying to get rid of a layer of grit, “Basically, the nanotech smothered the bomb and absorbed the blast.”

“That’s cool.”

Tony wrapped his arm around the kid, “And it worked.”

Peter laughed, “It’s you, of course, it did.”

“Ha.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Hm, I guess, maybe.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s temple, “Justin Hammer’s got nothing on me.”

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #let's hang out sometime #shackled #marvel #irondad fanfiction #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #justin hammer #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #irondad fic rec

62 notes · View notes

itstittycitybaby · 4 years ago

Text

Please, Don’t Shut Me Out: LOK (Amon x reader)

A/N: here we go lmao another man with a mask (can yall tell my kinks and what im into yet?). amon needs some love too and i stg if i get complaints about how could you he’s terrible, or how dare you he took lin’s bending away, we’re fist fighting to the death in an arby’s parking lot at 3am.

warnings: light angst, but it gets sweet

haha rail me<3

******

“Don’t shut me out please.” He froze; it felt too hard to breathe with the thick silence in the air. The tension was unbearable and he felt like he would choke on it. It was tense, sharper than any knife. His loyal lieutenant’s words sounded broken, and he assumed they were. Amon turned around with his fists clenched. Normally he was indifferent to emotions, something his father taught him long ago. And now, here he was, the weight of it all crashing down on him. Amon felt like he was in the freezing blizzard again. It’s unforgiving coldness sinking him down into the snow. Emotions were trivial and dangerous especially during a war. But his loyal lieutenant with their soft eyes brought such things out of him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Amon regretted the words as soon as he said them. You flinched at his harshness and the tears in your eyes threatened to spill over. You bit your quivering lip and folded your arms tightly. He would never admit how much he cared. How the yearning in your heart matched his own. You’d be hurt if you loved him. Being Amon’s lover was a big red target on your back. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you. He had killed people in the name of equality and justice. How could you love a monster? Even with the mask on, you knew Amon was high strung. It was obvious in his stressed orders and strained posture. No one seemed to notice or care, but you did. The walls around Amon were high and thick. He was trapped behind the iron bars. Every time you tried reaching out, Amon didn’t seem to hear you. But you swore he felt the same way. Amon had let you in little by little and shared his thoughts the night you found his walls cracking. No one else had the relationship with him like you had.. “What are you so afraid of,” you asked softly. “Am I not good enough for you? Have I not done enough?” Amon felt his heart sink slowly. The softness of your voice stung more than yelling. You were always soft spoken and never talked unless needed.He didn’t want to risk hurting you one day and having to pick up the pieces by himself all over again.

Slowly, he walked over to your trembling figure. The soft eyes he saw every time he fell asleep starred in his expectantly. “It’s for your own good,” Amon replied evenly. His eyes watched the tear that managed to escape. It rolled down your cheek as your soft gaze wavered. His hand cupped your cheek and his thumb wiped it away softly. Amon’s hand was bigger than your face and he towered over you. Your height and your smaller figure was something you had always been teased for. Amon, found it cute.``Have you even thought about what I want? That I want to love you willingly? Please Amon, just give me a chance.” His heart tugged. He didn’t like how easily he had fallen. His father’s unloving words rung in his ear. “How could you love a monster? Answer me that, little one.” “Is this what this is about,” you asked, brows drawn together. “There’s no such thing as monsters or a hero. It’s a social construct made by people who think they’re better than everyone else. We’re all human and make mistakes, it’s what we do with those mistakes that count. When are you going to understand that you’re not going to lose me? I made the decision to stand by your side freely until the very end.” Amon didn’t say anything. His silence unnerved you as he held your cheek softly. The mask he wore prevented you from seeing how he actually felt, but you knew him better. “Please…” “Alright,” he said softly, fingers stroking your cheek lovingly. A smile broke out across your face. More tears ran down your cheeks but they weren’t sad anymore. A piece of the bitterness in Amon’s heart became warm again. Bit by bit Amon could feel his heart patching up again. His father’s cruel words and the whispers that followed had quieted. Reaching up you yanked Amon down to your level. Your lips softly touched his mask’s and your fingers clenched into his hood for support. You smiled as you felt his cautious hands slip around your waist. Pulling away, you looked into his eyes. You couldn’t see them, though you could feel the softness in his eyes as he watched you.

“What happens now,” you asked, the creeping anxiety at the thought of Amon changing his mind was something you couldn’t shake off. “Now, we make sure no harm comes your way.” “I can hold my own,” you pouted. “I know darling,” Amon chuckled. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” You smiled softly as you stroked his mask. He seemed less stressed but the weight of the avatar and the council was still heavy on him. He had to restore balance to Republic City and make sure you were safe. Bringing Amon’s hand into yours you tugged him along. “We’ll figure something out later Amon. Let’s get something to eat. You haven’t eaten today right?” He shook his head as he followed you out of the dark room. “You need to eat more,” you chided, concern evident in your gaze. Amon didn’t reply, he just followed your lead as you led him to the base’s kitchens. Everyone was either resting or keeping watch. Not that they would have cared if they saw you and their leader, but seeing Amon acting so casual never happened. You giggled at the thought of the equalists gawking, seeing their leader act so soft. Amon turned to you with a curious gaze at your sudden amusement. “It’s nothing,” you said, shaking it off. He just hummed. Maybe emotions weren’t so bad after all.

#legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra #legend of korra x reader #amon x reader #x reader #reader insert

134 notes · View notes

oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

The Conversations - part 2/3

Characters: Seokjin, Jimin

Wordcount: 3.4k words

Genre: slice of life, discussion of NSFW topics, conversation

Rating: suggested 18+

And I’m back! To celebrate the milestone of 100 readers, I’m beginning to add banners to the one-shots I’ve posted so far!

In addition to that, after posting the Jin Stress reliever scenario, I’ve decided to post also this piece to give a more in-depth analysis of how Jin reacts to what happened in the one-shot.

Jimin and Jin discuss what happened during Jin’s latest encounter with his girlfriend, nicknamed Angel, his view on their relationship and his s/o’s requests. Jimin talks about his partner, Princess, how they reached their balance within their relationship and offers Jin some tips on how to face his struggles with the new lifestyle he’s approaching. It briefly mentions other members.

This huge mess is unedited, and it’s 1 am, and I’m dumb, please bear with me :)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: hinting at smut, quite detailed description of psychological mechanisms of BDSM, mentions of masturbation, gagballs, blindfolds, spanking, domination and submission; establishment of rules, limits and punishments; angst involving gender roles and social constructs; both the guys are struggling, a tad embarrassed here and there, but nothing major, just opening up to each other. Jimin is a loving fairy, Jin is a curious bumblebee, and we all love them to bits. Enjoy!

Here is my masterlist!

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

Jimin took off his earphones after something that sounded like a knock on his door.

“Yeeees, come in!” He screamed, still sitting on his bed, pausing the video playing on his tablet.

“Hi there.” Jin poked his head through the barely opened door.

“Hi, hyung. Is everything okay?” The context seemed a little bit suspicious to Jimin, his sixth sense catching a slightly off vibe.

“Yeah. How are you, by the way?” He asked, his expression kind and happy, but his laugh coming off nervous.

“I’m okay, just tired from practice. I’m watching the sample, trying to understand the transition, in the break you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nasty transition.”

That gave him away. “Do you need to practice?”

“No, not really. But you know, if you’re tired I can come back another day, I was just checking on you.”

“Hyung.” Jimin sat up, his legs dangling from the side of the bed as he pat the space at his side. “Come here.”

“May I?” Jin gestured at closing the door.

“Yes, of course.” Jimin replied, putting down the tablet on his bedside table.

Jin clicked the door shut softly and looked at his bare feet as he approached the bed.

“What is it? The Magic Shop is open, Fairy Jimin is here to assist you.” He cupped his face with his hands, his fingers moving in a jazz.

Jin blushed, his fingers contorting in his lap. “Actually, it’s not that kind of conversation. Sort of… More mature.”

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “It’s okay.” He angled himself toward his friend, crossing his legs on the bed and shrinking inside his sweater. “You’re safe here.”

“Thank you. I might-- I’m not completely comfortable talking about it. But I really need your help.”

Jimin smiled softly, placing an hand on his shoulder. ”Take your time.”

Jin’s finger joints cracked noisily. “Ehm, the other day I accidentally overheard your conversation with Taehyung. I’m sorry about it.”

Jimin shrinked even more, his cheeks blushing delicately. “That was really private.”

“Again, I’m very sorry.” Jin tried looking at the other man with honest apology in his eyes. “But eventually that led me here. Because I sort of need your help. That is, if you wanna talk about it.”

Jimin toyed with his sweater paws, his fingertips appearing only to comb back his hair. “I guess it depends on what you wanna talk about.”

“I have some questions.” Jin also settled in more comfortably, mirroring the dancer’s position. “It’s sort of delicate.” A tense pause. “Angel and I--” Another long pause.

“You’re experimenting?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah.” Jin exhaled deeply, more comfortable now that the other was helping him with the talking.

“Does she want to take the lead?” Jimin was absolutely careful with the wording.

“No, quite the other way around, actually.” Jin hid his eyes behind his palm.

“Okay,” Jimin licked his lips, slightly more relaxed. “Then why are you here? Why didn’t you ask Taehyung or Hobi?”

“Is Hoseok…?”

“Yeah. And a pretty strict one.” Jimin giggled. “Yoongi, also. But not really. It’s not as bad as the other two. Namjoon is softer. Not really a dom, but not vanilla either.”

“I thought he were more... like you?”

Jimin giggled and then frowned. “What do you mean ‘like me’?”

Jin struggled a second. “More… submissive? Like fifty-fifty?”

“I guess you should ask him.” He said, slightly upset.

Jin blushed. “Sorry.”

Jimin realised his mistake. “Nevermind, I was rude. No reason to be sorry. There’s nothing wrong with being submissive. It’s a matter of character. Personality. You don’t really choose.” He replied, and his words felt almost mechanical.

“So you...” Jin once more struggled.

“Why did you want to talk to me? And not the others?” Jimin asked softly, trying to understand.

Jin’s eyebrows arched. “I really need to understand what it feels like for her. Why she needs it.”

“Okay.” Jimin nodded. “Everyone has their own reasons, and talking with me won’t substitute talking with her. You’ll have to, eventually. If you really care about her.”

“I understand.”

“Princess and I got into this carefully. It’s really a matter of communication and experience. You need to trust each other and not be afraid to say what you like and what you don’t like.”

“So you need to talk it out.” Jin was approaching the matter pragmatically. He just needed more information. Someplace to start.

“I’d say so, yes.”

“I don’t really get why she wants me to be hard on her?” Jin spit the question out in frustration.

“I’m not the best person to ask, but I’d say it’s not a matter of being hard on someone. It’s more of a matter of discipline.”

“Like what?”

“Sometimes you feel a little bit lost, and you just want someone to give you rules, like limits, like you know, the line on asphalt that indicate where the road lays?”

“Do you mean road signs?”

“More like the roadside. Road signs are things like commands. Instructions.”

“Okay. So she needs roadsides.” Jin asked, confused.

Jimin giggled. “Imagine feeling vulnerable in a big, dark room. Now, imagine leading a person through that room. That’s what she’s asking you.”

“I need to lead her.”

“Yes.” Jimin’s lips arched upwards, glad that Jin was getting in the right mindset. “It also depends on the type of submissive she is. They are not all the same. For example, the dynamics between me and Princess are not always the same. Sometimes she’s the one in command. Sometimes it’s me. Though it’s mostly her.” Jimin disappeared into his hoodie, laughing as a hand covered his mouth.

“So a person is not always submissive. That’s right.” He nodded in agreement. “We’re usually pretty even, both in charge, but sometimes she wishes I took control.”

“That sounds nice. It’s a matter of balance. Would you feel comfortable taking control?”

“Well, sometimes I wish I could.” Jin huffs out a tense laugh, frustration and tiredness suddenly overwhelming him.

“Is it stressful for you?” Jimin reached out for him, putting his hand on top of Jin’s.

“Sort of. I feel— Conflicted?” Jin’s forehead creased, mouth pouting.

“Let’s do pros and cons.” Jimin fumbled around for a while, looking for pen and paper. “Seeing it written down will help you reconsider the actual size of the issue.” Jimin’s kind smile eased Jin’s nerves a little.

“So, let’s start with the reasons why you don’t want to do it.” Jimin held up a notepad and a pencil.

“Hurting her.” Jin didn’t need to think for one second.

“Okay, next.”

“Because it’s disrespectful.”

Jimin tried to keep a poker face, but he twisted nose in a funny way. “Next.”

“Because I feel like I’m not loving her when I treat her like that.”

Once more the younger man encouraged him to proceed.

“Because thinking about it makes me feel dirty.” He waited a few second. “Because I don’t know what to do. And how to do it right.” He blushed. “And I don’t know if she likes it because she cries out and I don’t understand whether it’s good or bad and her face scrunches up like I’m hurting her, you know?”

Jimin nodded, his face opening in warm understanding, then he drew a harsh line, dividing the page in two vertically. “Okay, now the pros.”

“Because I want to make her happy.” Once more he didn’t hesitate in putting his Angel first.

“And?”

“I am so tired of feeling this… pressure.”

“Who’s pressuring you?” Jimin asked.

“I feel this tension, inside. Between doing what’s right and feeling right.”

“There are a lot of things I am currently not understanding.” Jimin scratched his head cutely.

“I-- There are all these things that society accepts. That we’re taught, about love, and about intimacy with the person you love. That it should be sweet and loving and respectful. But then there are all these other things that I want that are none of that, none of what we’ve been taught.”

“Okay, hyung. But are you saying that if I want to bend my girlfriend against the kitchen table and fuck her into next week, then I’m sick?”

“No!” Jin said, already defending not himself, but Jimin. “You have each and every right to do what you want. And it’s your relationship, in your house, with your rules.”

“This applies to you too, right?” Jimin grinned, showing exactly his point. “Intimacy is creating that place where you have special rules just for you and the one you love. It’s a bubble. Made of understanding, trust. And negotiated boundaries. If I can do that in my own house, you can do that in yours.”

“Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s okay, hyung.”

“I also want to give in because it feels so good when I do.”

“So you do have dommed already?” Jimin was immediately curious.

“It was not planned.” Jin looked like he was protecting himself. “Absolutely unintentional. But next time I need to have some structure. Some knowledge.”

“You should create that with your Angel, hyung.” He shouldn’t push him, Jimin reminded himself.

“May I ask how did you and Princess build that?” Jin asked, again just looking for general knowledge.

“We, uhm. For the first month or two we were a very traditional couple, we did nothing too extreme. Then one night I was tired and tense, we were rehearsing a lot back then, and I was always so in control of myself because of dancing, straining myself towards perfection. And I came home and that night Princess took control. She asked me what I wanted and she did it. As long as I did what she wanted me to. It doesn’t need to be gagballs and blindfolds. All you need is the mindset.”

“So I don’t need to like… Spank her or…?” Jin blushed. He didn’t mind spanking Angel. Not one bit. But other things felt dark. Too dangerous. Maybe if he had more experience...

“That depends on her. If she asks you to, you need to choose whether you want to or not. Usually it’s more comfortable to decide what you can or cannot ask beforehand. It helps avoid misunderstandings and second thoughts.”

“Great. And what about rules?” Jin asks, once more curious.

“Well, that depends on the kind of power play you are part of. There are different kinds of domination and submission. Some doms have rules that only have to do with the submissive’s sexual sphere. Others have rules that affect, so to say, even their every day life. What to eat, how to dress, how to behave, etcetera.”

“How did you get to know all of this.” Jin’s question came naturally. How could he possibly get to know all this stuff?

“Reading. Watching documentaries. Chatting with Yoongi and Tae. I think Yoongi hyung could really help you with your side of the situation. As far as Angel is concerned, well, I can help you.” His eyes twinkled happily.

“Thanks. Okay, so I don’t think I really want to put rules over Angel's everyday life.” Jin was already sure of that. He didn’t feel comfortable telling her what to do and how to dress. She’s a grown woman. On that he would not budge. He knew that was his limit.

“That’s okay. That’s where you stand. You could decide some overall rules, and then negotiate them again as you go, if the two of you need them. Usually having three to five rules is a good compromise. They should be easy to remember, mutually agreed and pretty generic. For me and Princess they’re extremely easy: no cheating, no teasing, no going to bed upset with each other, no selfish pleasure - that is, yeah, you can masturbate as long as you tell the other, and finally, never be afraid to ask.”

“Wow.” Jin thought that those kind of rules -- well, most of them -- were already included in his relationship with Angel. He thought about her and toys. How he would love if she told him about that. He would ask for a rule about that.

Jimin misunderstood Jin’s absent gaze. “It might sound big, but it’s actually pretty cool.” He tried making the conversation lighter in fear of scaring his hyung. “I know what I can or cannot do. If we go against the rules, obviously there is punishment. I know that that word sounds scary.” Jimin paused again. “It’s normal to feel insecure. Punishment has been used against us so many times since we were children, but it’s a very good way to deal with guilt.” Jimin removed his hand from Jin’s, playign with his sweateer paws. “Princess and I are both perfectionists. If we’re not perfect at something, we tend to turn to guilt, mortification and self hate. Having someone punish you makes you feel like you have paid for your mistake, so no need to worry about it no more. I didn’t learn the choreography after a day? I’m going home bitter and tired and Princess will take it from there, choosing whether to treat me to remind me I’m still good or to punish me because I was mean and hard on myself. And sometimes I do the same for her.” Jimin looked Jin in the eye, offering his own vulnerability in exchange for that of his friend.

“That sounds so good.” Jin averted his glance, his thoughts running wild, imagining how good it would feel to finally validate his own needs. And Angel’s needs. To give her everything she has ever dreamed of. To liberate her. To explore his need to treat Angel like his fuckdoll, to reward her with orgasm after orgasm, watching her scream as he rammed into her. To make her cum like he did last time, nothing but him inside her.

Jimin giggled. “It is good. Punishment is not an instrument to torture, but rather to redeem. To cleanse. To regain balance after a fault.” He lost himself in the memory of the heavy smack of your wooden hairbrush on his bum. “It’s a way to feel like you earned forgiveness.”

“Is it why she wants it?” Jin’s eyebrows arched.

“Maybe. Maybe she just thinks that a little bit of pain enhances the pleasure. Maybe it’s away for her to exorcise fear. Or shame.”

“How so?”

“Sometimes I feel… ashamed. Of what I like. Princess knows it. It’s normal, especially when society teaches you that what you that the man should take the lead, that he should be strong and authoritative. So sometimes I feel wrong when I don’t want to be the dominant one, when I don’t want to decide and I need someone else to do it for me, when I need someone to take care of me.” Jimin felt vulnerable opening up like that, but at the same time he was glad he was helping his friend. “Princess sometimes makes me do things that I don’t have the courage to ask, but that I like. It makes me feel less ashamed because she’s asking me to. She is validating that part of me that wants those things.”

Jin nodded, patting Jimin’s shoulder. He thought about his girl. How she asked him what she wanted. “Angel is not ashamed of asking, though. She’s asked before.”

Jimin also nodded, already knowing his reply. “Maybe she’s not ashamed of asking, but a part of her is ashamed for wanting those things. Maybe she’s asking because she has grown tired of being ashamed and needs you to do something.” Jimin pressed his fists to his chest. “At least, that’s how it works, for me.”

“Okay. Well, now that I think of it, she did mention that sometimes she feels… dirty for wanting some stuff. Especially since it’s stuff she thinks I don’t like.”

“May I ask about that? I mean, you said she thinks you don’t like it. So, do you like it or not?” Jimin’s body opened up, leaning into Jin slightly, as if to offer comfort. He tried to sound less intrusive.

“Oh, I like it. It’s just that… It scares me. I don’t know it, and I could hurt her because I’m not that experienced. In that side of me.” Jin hid his head between his shoulders.

“Okay, there is stuff you should discuss. Limits. For example, with Princess I know that her neck is very sensitive, but I cannot choke her. She likes it when I cum on her, but not on her face. I can leave lovebites on her, but if she has something like an appointment with the doctor, I cannot leave marks and bruises. It’s all stuff you talk about when you negotiate rules, punishments, limits and safwords.” Jimin looked down. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“Don’t worry. It actually helps discovering more stuff about this world.” Jin again aimed at putting Jimin at ease.

Jimin moved on. “Great. So, you mentioned you already had some powerplay. What did you like, what was not your thing?”

Jin thought about that night. Every second was still fresh in his mind. He’d thought about that so many times that the memory looked like a well-used path in the woods, the tracks made of brown gravel instead of lush green grass. “I liked how happy she looked. She was there, with her big eyes open wide, waiting for my instructions. And she loved looking at me. She looked like she was enjoying my own pleasure.”

Jimin nodded happily. “That’s how it works. Usually a submissive physically enjoys their dominant’s pleasure.”

“And she liked me being rough. Actually got off to it.”

“Okay. And did you like it?”

Again he remembered the sweet heatwave rolling down his spine, the memory of the feeling sparking new desire. “Yes. She was… I’m sorry if I get too descriptive, but I was sitting on the bed and she was there, kneeling before me, looking at me like she wanted nothing but to see me cum and-- It was hot. I couldn’t hold myself back.”

“It’s okay. It’s a good thing that you can identify what you like. Now, what bothered you?”

Jin again revisited the whole memory, playing rewind and replay. There wasn’t much he hadn’t liked about the intercourse. It was the aftertaste of it. “I didn’t like how I felt afterwards. Like I had to clean myself morally. And I didn’t like how Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde I felt as we… made love?” He felt doubtful at the expression.

“You can say fuck, hyung. There’s nothing wrong.” Jimin raised an eyebrow. “There’s nothing wrong with fucking your girlfriend. Or wanting to. Some people cheat on their girlfriends because they feel like they’re not free to fuck them. They have a person to fuck and another to make love. The secret to a good relationship is feeling like you want to be sweet but also harsh to the same person, that you feel love and lust for your partner. I feel honoured when Princess wants to fuck me. Or when she wants me to fuck her. She feels desire for me. And that means that she won’t look for someone else.”

“I understand.” Jin closed his eyes, every precious moment with Angel suddenly overwhelming him. “I really want to be the one that she wants.”

“That’s nice. But you should also be the one that you want for yourself. You should feel free to chase after what you want. And if that’s sending your girlfriend into toe-curling orgasms, then be it.”

Jin laughed and Jimin’s honest comment. “I’m really thankful for this conversation.”

“I am, too.” Jimin approached the next question carefully. “So do you think you’ll try and work this out with Angel?”

Jin pondered his answer. “I’d love to. But we’ll take our time. Talk things out.”

“Getting into this with Princess was not easy. She was not used to domming before me, so she had to learn things too. But she’s loving it now. She already had that mindset, the one that you feel. Once you learn what you like and what your partner likes, that’s all downhill. Trust yourself. Happiness is all yours, not what society expects from you.”

Jin smiled brightly. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Tell me if it works out, hyung.” Jimin patted his hand. “And when you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

#bangtan sonyeondan #jimin #jin #kim seokjin #park jimin #seokjin #jinmin #the conversation #bts imagine #bts headcanons #bts scenario #jin scenario #jimin scenario #jin imagine #jimin imagine #bts conversation

50 notes · View notes

captainscanadian · 5 years ago

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 10) - FINALE

My Masterlist

Summary: Things may have gotten better but you still need YOUR family...

Word Count: 9442

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (mentioned), Rebecca Barnes, Winnifred Barnes

Warnings: Swearing, Surgery, Organ Donation, Nudity, Cancer, Death Mention, William Shakespeare (check sparknotes if you would like but I just could not bother translating that shit!)

A/N: This is the first series that I have completed and I must say, I feel so damn accomplished. As I have said before, Better is a fic that is extremely close to my heart because of how personal it is to me. I loved writing every bit of it, even the angst and the fluff. I appreciate all the love that I got for this fic, with Better!Bucky stealing everyone’s hearts and the headcanons you all sent me when I felt really inspired to dive more into this little universe that I had created. We have two epilogues left so this isn’t goodbye. But thank you to @dramadreamer14 for being the one who got me started on here and for keeping me going until the end of the line (I HAD TO!). You’re the realest, Naynay! This one’s for you! <3

The steam that arose from the hot shower still lingered around the bathroom, the condensation clouding up the mirror as you stood in front of it. Fresh out of the shower and still in the nude, you took a moment to stare at the plain reflection of your delicate body. You watched as a drop of water trickled down your neck before reaching your sternum. Under your right breast was the waterproof dressing that kept covered the now restored masterpiece of Dr. Peter Parker. You could not help but run your fingers over the patch for a moment. These stitches should start dissolving soon.

Natasha had told you that since your incision had reopened and had to have been stitched up again, you might have a scar on your abdomen for the rest of your life; it was a constant reminder of your sacrifice and the trauma that you had to endure. Not that you minded, really. After all, this scar was also a reminder of you finally opening yourself up to your James.

The creaking noise of the door snapped you out of your thoughts for a moment and you noticed Bucky Barnes enter the bathroom. “I told you not to get out of the shower until I got back, doll.” He scolded you when he saw you standing in front of the mirror, shaking his head at your reflection as he wrapped the clean bath robe over your shoulder.

You gave him a small smile as you felt your cheeks heat up, looking down at your feet as the drops of water continued to trickle down your bare legs. You could not remember the last time you had managed to shave; it must have been a few days before your surgery. But with your lack of mobility when showering, you had not even bothered to make the effort. For the sake of not soaking your stitches, you had been avoiding taking a bath like the plague. While the shower had definitely helped with maintaining the cleanliness, the sutures in your body prevented you from bending over in order to shave.

Not that Bucky minded though. He was never one to believe in the social constructs of what made someone attractive, especially not with you. His common sense and medical knowledge combined were reason enough for him to know that hair growth was a natural bodily function within women and that shaving should not be a priority to someone who’s currently recovering from a partial liver transplant. He had ensured that you had no reason to feel insecure about that.

This would be the fourth day he had helped you out of the shower, the fourth time he had seen you completely naked and not made a big deal out of it. As a surgeon, he had seen it all during his decade on the job. But even though you were not his patient, even if you were the love of his life, he was not one to lose his self control and dignity just because you had stood before him unclothed. He understood that you were healing and he was caring for you. It was as simple as that.

He grabbed a clean towel from the rack and handed it to you so that you could dry yourself off. “Nat said that she’ll take a look at your stitches when she comes over tomorrow, just to see if they’re dissolving as they should be.” He told you, his head held low to the tiled bathroom floor. He would not even dare to steal a glance of your naked body without your consent. “I’ll let you get dried off.”

Before he could step out of the bathroom, you quickly grabbed his wrist. “James.” You gave him a soft smile as you stepped forward, leaning in slightly to peck his lips. “Thank you.”

He cocked his eyebrow slightly, giving you a look of confusion that was followed by a soft chuckle. “Get dried off so that I can change your dressing, okay? I’ll get started on breakfast.”

You gave him a nod as you watched him walk out of the bathroom, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips as you turned back to look at your reflection in the mirror. With the fog now cleared up, you could finally see yourself smiling and you began to dry yourself off.

While you were getting dressed, Bucky managed to strip and make your bed before making his way to the kitchen. He got started on making your breakfast, as he had been doing for the last few days. He would say that he was a decent cook for the most part. Having lived alone for all these years, he did have to learn how to make his own meals. However, in recent years with his added workload and unpredictable schedule, not to mention the financial stability, he had hired a personal chef to prep his meals for him while he was away.

His lunches and dinners had always been prepped and stored in his refrigerator by his professional meal prepper every week. But ever since you had come to stay with him, he had contacted the chef and made changes to his usual menu to include your dietary requirements as per Natasha’s instructions. While the fridge had been stored with pre-prepared meals of salmon and broccoli or an avocado salad for you, breakfast was always his thing.

Bucky always prepared you a bowl of oatmeal topped with fresh berries and some freshly steeped green tea, all of which were on the top of Natasha’s list of foods that were good for the liver. As he had learned recently, you were not that fond of the taste of grapefruit though you preferred a glass of cranberry juice with your dinner as replacement for wine. In the last four days, he had become quite fond of all of your weird quirks – from the temperature of the water when you shower to the way you ate your broccoli first before digging into the salmon, he liked all of it.

You got dressed into an oversized nightshirt that MJ had picked out for you after realizing that your closet was rather lacking of clothes that are comfortable enough for someone who’s just had surgery. It was lose around your body, covering a lot more skin compared to a hospital gown but also easy to breathe in. You pulled your dressing gown over your body as you made your way over to the kitchen. Bucky’s apartment was fairly too big for one person alone, with a breathtaking view of the river right outside of his living room window. It was roomy. The guest bedroom itself was three times as big as your entire loft apartment. A part of you felt slightly guilty for taking up that much space, for you had always believed that you deserved less than what you had. But you also felt safe in this apartment, for you were with your James. You were at his home. Home is where the heart is and you had given him your heart.

When you saw that Bucky had set down a bowl of oat meal in front of your seat, you groaned. “James, I can’t...” Your tone was rather whiney but it made him chuckle. “You can’t mask out the fibre with all those berries. It’s disgusting.”

He handed you a spoon as you sat down, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “If you eat this and drink your tea, I’ll give you an extra glass of cranberry juice for dinner.”

“You call that an incentive, Dr. Barnes?” You looked up at him with a pout of your lips. “I never thought I would say this but I would actually take the IV and feeding tube over this concoction that Natasha has graciously called breakfast.” You admitted as you took the spoon from him and sighed, struggling to take the first bite. “If that liver of mine doesn’t regenerate in the next few weeks, I swear to God...”

Pulling up his chair next to you, he sat down with his own bowl of oatmeal and held up his spoon. “I’m with you till the end of the line, doll.” He said as he took a bite of his breakfast, scrunching his nose at the texture of the warm oatmeal in his mouth. “Not as good as my usual protein shakes but this would do.”

You let out a chuckle as you took another bite of it, laying your head against his shoulder. “So, your usual diet includes protein shakes and an extensive menu prepared by a personal chef.” You noted, cheekily. “Good to know, Barnes...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just that... there are a lot of things that I feel like I didn’t know about you until now.” You admitted, taking another bite before turning over to look at him. “And it seems like you know everything about me by now...”

It took a moment for your James to take in what you were saying and he bit down on his bottom lip, letting out a sigh before giving you a nod. “I do, don’t I?” He asked as he picked at his bowl of oatmeal before turning over to look at you. “I do know a lot about you, maybe more than you had told me.” Admitting that may not have been the best thing to do right not, but he did not care. After all, he wanted to be honest with you. If it meant that he should share what he had done, then so be it. If you did get mad at him for it, then he sure as hell deserved it for invading your privacy.

You raised your eyebrow slightly as you set down your spoon, licking your lips as you picked up your mug to take a sip of the green tea that had now cooled down. “Peggy may have mentioned it when I asked her why the terms on your contract were triple the amount that my parents owed the hospital. She said something about the outstanding medical bills in Philly, which she wouldn’t have known so I asked her how she did know and she was so quick to rat you out that I was actually surprised.” You told him as you laid his hand on top of his, sighing.

“I...”Bucky paused, not knowing how to respond to that. He could never trust Peggy with a secret, could he? For a woman who preaches about attorney-client privilege like it’s the Bible, she sure as hell lacked the social filter that was necessary when it came to his love life. She could not keep a secret. It did dawn on him that she may have had good intentions, but that did not make her attempts to meddle any better. “I... I’m sorry, I know I violated your privacy. But I only did it because I was worried and I was watching out for you...” He bit down on his bottom lip as he looked away from you, unable to maintain eye contact when you had just called him out on what he had done.

“James.” You shook your head. “She was also quick to explain that what you did was totally illegal and if I did want to take legal action against you, she would have to resign from being my attorney due to her conflict of interest.” You joked, chuckling softly as you tried to lighten up the mood.

“You’re... not mad?”

You shook your head. “No, I mean, I know why you did it. I had built up these walls around me and... I made it so hard for anyone to know anything about me. In a way, it’s my fault that you had to go out of your way to...” You sighed. “It shows me that you care, James, and I’m... I’m glad to have someone who cares enough about me to... not think twice about breaking the law.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief that you were not mad at him. But how could you ever get mad at him in the first place? “Oh thank God, I was so worried... that you might end up hating me.” He admitted. “I’m sorry, doll. Even though I did have good intentions, what I did was wrong and I have to own up to that. If you do feel like punishing me for what I did, I’m more than willing to accept it.”

“Well, if you insist on being punished, then... since you seem to know everything about me, you could... maybe start off by telling me everything about you.” You told him as you laughed. “I mean, I did know that you came from old money and that you did not have to struggle financially. But you live in a big ass penthouse apartment, you drive a Mercedes but Wanda tells me that it’s not the only car you own... and you have a personal chef and a housekeeper who come in once a week. You seem a lot more... different than... most people I know. And no, I’m not saying this because I feel insecure or anything. I don’t... I just... you are so different, you could have had anything or anyone you wanted and to think that you chose my fucked up heart over that, I’m... I’m flattered.”

“You’re right, doll.” He admitted, picking at his bowl of oatmeal as he turned over to look at you. “I am different. We’ve both had very different upbringings, I won’t deny that. My grandparents were... fairly wealthy. My family’s quite influential in this little town of Shelbyville, Indiana. That’s where I was born. My parents met when they were kids and they were high school sweethearts. They got married right after they graduated from medical school, moved to Brooklyn for their residency and started up their own practice together, as partners. They were both very successful physicians but they also started a family together. Four kids... and a business to run, they could not do it on their own. I was pretty much raised by my nanny, Sarah...”

“Steve’s mother.” You noted, giving him a nod. Steve had told you about his own family situation growing up, with his parents being Irish immigrants who had their own struggles. Mr. Rogers had not been the best of fathers, but he had passed o when he was fairly young. Sarah Rogers had no choice but to become to sole breadwinner of her family, having a young son to take care of on her own. It must have been a miracle that she had managed to find employment with the Barnes. But from what you knew, the woman had pretty much raised your James and she had done a darn good job at it. “He’s told me a lot about her.”

“She was a wonderful woman, Y/N. I wish you could have met her. She would have loved you like her own child. She always treated us like we were her own children. She never acted like she was being paid to take care of us.” Bucky recalled fondly as he thought of his childhood. “She took care of us like we were her own. But she did have certain limits. She always called me Master James, told me that I should never pick on my little sisters and that I should always watch out for them, as their big brother. She always let me watch when she braided their hair or when she cooked, taught me a thing or two along the way. She was the reason why I managed to become friends with Steve. He was like another brother than a friend, really... he still is.”

“Do you miss her a lot?” You asked him, biting down on your bottom lip as you picked at your oatmeal. You were well aware that Steve’s mother had passed away quite a while ago. Though you did not know the details, you knew that she had passed away from cancer. But now that you knew that Bucky did have a close relationship with that woman, you could imagine how hard it must have been for her.

“I mean, yeah... I miss her a lot. I think about her every day, every single day when I go into work, every single time I see a patient, every single time I get called for a consult. I think of her and I miss her every single day. I never...” Looking back to his teenage days was not easy for Bucky. It was never easy for any teenager. But the worst part of it all had to be when he had lost Sarah. He had been nineteen years old back then, having taken a gap year after his high school graduation. Not only had he been unsure about what he wanted do with his life, but he had also made a pact with Steve that the two of them would attend NYU together. Perhaps his decision to declare a pre-med major may have been his attempt at blindly following his parents’ footsteps, but after Sarah’s death he knew exactly what kind of doctor he wanted to be. “I never realized how fucked up our health care system was... until I realized what actually happened to Sarah. I didn’t think that someone who had a clear case of BAC could be misdiagnosed with pneumonia. I didn’t think there was this... systemic... classism that was so deep-rooted... I think that was a wake-up call for me. All I could think of was... if Sarah had been in a better financial situation, she would have gotten better care and she might even be alive today. I think that made me want to be a better doctor than the ones she had, you know... because I don’t think any kid in this fucked up world deserves to lose their mother because their doctors weren’t good enough at doing their jobs.”

You nodded, understandingly. “She would have been so proud of you, James. She would have been so proud of both you and Steve, your sisters. She did a damn good job raising all of you and... she’s watching you do wonders, I’m sure.” You told him with a smile, your hand holding onto his.

His lips curled into a small smile as he nodded. “I do hope so, Y/N.” He admitted, sighing. “You know, I... I wasn’t always like this. Back then, all I cared about was being the best doctor that could be. And I was... good at my job. I’m a good doctor, I know that. I was better than those doctors that Sarah had. But I was so caught up with being a better doctor, that I often... I forgot to be human.” This was true. He did have his head right up his ass until a few years ago. “I was throwing myself into work and... I thought I was doing good, that cutting into hearts were enough. I had a privileged life, Y/N. I never understood how lucky I was that... I had parents who had successful careers or financial stability. I never understood that... I had made it this far was because I was privileged. I never thought about... giving back to those who didn’t have what I had. I... didn’t think that I could do so much more than I already was. I was so caught up with being a good doctor but what I realized later was that I needed to be a better person... because I had a lot of people who were looking up to me. Seeing you made me realize that... you’re not the one who should strive to be better, but me. I needed to be better, for myself ... for my goddaughter, my niece and nephew... for you. You made me realize that.”

You leaned over to give him a quick peck on his lips. “Well, you can’t be better than perfect... and you are perfect.” You told him, and he was indeed that. He was the perfect man, who had once had his flaws but he had worked to fix them all, for your sake.

After breakfast, you found yourself having taken your medication and making yourself comfortable on your James’ living room couch. The downside to being away from work was the fact that it was extremely difficult to kill time. Steve had forbidden you from even logging into your work email, let alone checking the files of your current patients whom you had transferred over to him for the time being. You had no other choice but to binge-watch whatever show was popular on Netflix. Hell, you had not even bothered to have an account on Netflix until Peter had forced you into creating one. You had a list of shows that you were planning to watch during your time in bed rest, as per Natasha’s recommendations. You were never fond of watching television, but at this point, you might as well keep yourself entertained.

While you had gotten immersed in the historically accurate depiction of the British royal family in The Crown, Bucky had found himself sitting in the dining room and catching up on some emails for work. He was on call at the moment but he had not been asked to come into the hospital just yet, so it was all good. Thankfully, Peggy was scheduled to spend the night with you while Steve was at home with Sarah. He had just finished replying to his last email when he got a phone call from his sister. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he saw Rebecca Barnes’ name flash on his phone before he answered the call. “Hey Becca?”

“Hey Buck, just letting you know that mom and I are on our way over to yours right now. We should be there in a half hour or so.” Becca told her brother in a hurry. “I just came down to drop the kids off for the weekend and mom insisted that I join her for a little impromptu visit. She wants to see Y/N.”

“What?!” His eyes grew wide as he heard what his sister what just told him, but his tone was rather hushed as he did not want to bother you during your binge. “Rebecca, what the hell?! How did she know that Y/N was here and why the hell are you calling me instead of talking her out of coming here?!”

“Bucky, I think you and I both know the answer to that.” She replied, sighing. “You know Steve calls her at least twice a week. Apparently, she heard through the grape vine that you had paid off a large amount of money and asked him if he knew about it. You know Steve. He wouldn’t lie to her so... yeah, she knows about Y/N and you paying off her parents. Oh and Steve was gracious enough to rat me out too. Now she knows that I was also involved...” There was a pause before she let out a sigh. “So... yeah, mom wants to see Y/N and we’re on our way.”

To say that James Barnes was certain that one could not trust both the mister and missus Rogers would be an understatement. How could both the husband and the wife just rat him out to two of the most important women in his life like that? He had no idea. “Alright, thanks for the warning, I guess. I’ll see you when you get here.” Once he hung up the call, he was quick to make his way over to the living room. “Hey, doll?”

You picked up the remote to pause your show before turning your head slightly to face him. “Yeah?”

Biting down on his bottom lip, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweat pants as he made his way around the couch. Sitting down on the loveseat across from you, he rubbed his temples for a moment, not knowing how to break this to you. He had not bothered letting his parents know about the events of the last few weeks, mainly because he did not know how to. But he also did not want to put you in an overwhelming position where you had to deal with them while you were also recovering from your surgery. Surely, you had met George and Winnifred Barnes before. But back then, you were only a colleague of his and now you were his girlfriend. “I don’t want to freak you out but... uh... my sister Becca just called and... my mom’s on her way here right now and she wants to see you.”

“What?!” You asked him in surprise. You had met the woman briefly before at Sarah Rogers’ second birthday party a few months ago. You certainly had a lot of respect for her. But now you were particularly nervous about meeting her again, as you happened to be dating her son. “How?”

Your James winced slightly at the thought of his best friend. “... Steve.” He replied with a sigh. “He told her everything and now she’s on her way here. My sister said that she wanted to see you.”

You let out a groan when he mentioned the name of your mentor. “Fucking Rogers...” You rolled your eyes as you laid your head back, sighing. “James, I don’t think I’m ready to meet your mother now. We’ve barely been a couple. What does she want to see me about?”

“I don’t know, doll.” Bucky agreed as he sighed, leaning over to place his hand on your foot. “You don’t have to put yourself through this if you don’t want to. I could just tell her that you’re not feeling like visitors and send her home.”

You shook your head. “Oh no, don’t do that. I don’t want to be rude.” You told him, biting down on your bottom lip. “I mean, you did say that she might be coming over every once in a while... right?”

“Well, she usually comes to do my laundry.” He admitted with a shrug. “Ever since she retired, she seems to have a lot of time on her hands so... she tends to stop by to do some chores around the house, you know, be a mom. But I was going to tell her to not come by in the next few weeks, you know, for your sake. But Steve just had to spill the beans to her and now’s she on her way.”

“When Peggy comes here tonight, I’ll make sure to give her a piece of my mind.”

The sound of his front door being unlocked by his mother’s set of keys may have startled Bucky slightly, for he sprung to his feet and stomped over to greet her in an instant. “Ma?”

“Hello, James.” The woman greeted her son with a warm smile upon seeing him rush to her, pulling him into a tight hug as she stood on the tip of her toes to reach his height. Even when her son had grown well into his adulthood, he would always be her little baby. As a once working mother who had been forced to spend so much time away from her children, she had always greeted them with a warm embrace when she came home. Her arms always wrapped tightly around them to show just how much she loved them despite not being around to show it as much as she would have liked. No wonder the Barnes children had turned out the way they had. They had two amazing women who had showered them with love and affection. They had never been deprived of a mother’s love, unlike yourself.

A part of him was relieved that his mother was not visibly upset by his actions, but he hugged her back rather hesitantly. All he could do was give Becca a death glare for not managing to talk her out of coming here. But it was too late now, since they were already here. He hoped for the best but for some reason, expected the worst. “Rebecca.”

“Brother.” She gave him an apologetic look that was followed by a shrug of her shoulders.

Pulling back from the hug, Winnifred Barnes ran her hand through her son’s hair fondly. “You look rather well-rested, son. Have you not been working in the last few days?” She asked him with her eyebrow raised at him.

“Uhm... no, not really.” He replied as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was on call the other night and I’m actually on call right now. I just haven’t had anyone call me in yet.”

“And here I thought my workaholic son had finally had a change of heart.” The woman joked as she began to make her way over to the living room. “How’s the lovely Y/N?”

“Uh...” He turned around to look at Becca before following her to the living room. “She’s doing alright...”

You turned off the television before getting out of your comfortable position on the couch, folding your blanket neatly and setting it aside. You fixed your dressing gown as you stood up, turning around towards the door to greet your boyfriend’s mother. “Dr. Barnes.” You smiled nervously at her.

“Oh honey, please... call me Winnie. Or Ma, Ma’s great too. Actually, I think I would prefer if you called me Ma.” She clarified with a smile, walking up to you and gently wrapping her arm around you. “Steve mentioned to me about your surgery the other day. I wish he could have told me sooner though. I would have come down and seen you at the hospital. But better late than never, right? How are you doing?”

“I’m doing much better now, thank you.” You told her with a smile and you could have sworn that your heart could have burst from the fondness that was so evident from this woman. “I... have some great people looking out for me so it’s all good.”

“Of course, you do!” Becca exclaimed as she walked up to you with a wide grin. “Hi, we haven’t met. I’m Becca Barnes and it’s so lovely to meet you, finally. My children have told me so much about you.”

You returned her smile, knowing very well that this woman had been the one who had dug into your past as per her brother’s request. “Peggy told me a lot about you as well, believe it or not.” You told her, making Bucky choke slightly.

Winnifred Barnes turned over to her son. “James, didn’t you say that you were working today? Why don’t you get on your way now? Becca and I can keep Y/N company while you’re gone.”

“Uh...” He looked away from his mother for a moment, turning to you with wide eyes. “I mean, I don’t have to go yet...”

A part of her was slightly surprised by his response, for she knew that her son would never turn down a chance to go into work earlier than he had been expected to be at work. But she was not an idiot. She knew that his reason for wanting to delay going in to the hospital was because he would rather stay at home with you.

She had to admit that it was slightly refreshing to see him like this. Bucky had remained single for while now and had rarely ever brought any women home. Winnifred had always been worried that her son would willingly choose to spend the rest of his life alone despite the fact that he was certainly capable of finding himself a wife. But she knew now that his heart had always been set on you and she could not be more grateful that the two of you had found each other.

When she had heard from Steve, and Becca after much insistence, about your familial situation, the woman’s heart broke. A mother’s love was meant to be the purest of them all. But the fact that your own mother had been the cause of your despair had sickened her. In an instant, she was longing to embrace you and shower you with the love that you had been so deprived of. A mother’s love, for you were now a daughter to her as much as the rest of them, if her son was so sure of making you his wife.

Just then, Bucky’s pager went off against the waistband of his sweat pants. A disappointed groan escaping his lips, he checked the page before making his way towards the dining room to grab his phone. A quick phone call to the nurses’ desk and MJ informing him of a ferry accident was reason enough for him to head to work. When he turned around to head back to the living room, he noticed that his sister had followed him. “What is it?”

Rebecca Barnes bit down on her bottom lip. “Mom... told me to give you something.” She told him as she reached into her purse to pull out a little black box. “When you’re ready, Buck...” She handed it to him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “If you know that Y/N’s the one, I mean... I’m sure you know that by now. We all know that she’s the one, just... Mom loves her, but that’s not a surprise. Dad’s quite fond of her too, believe it or not. What’s there not to love about Y/N Y/L/N?”

His eyes grew wide as he took the box from her, pulling her into a hug and sighing. His eyes glazed over as he realized that he now had his family’s blessing. Although it was only a few days into the two of you being boyfriend and girlfriend, he had always known that it was you. But now his family did too. “She is the one, Becca.” He admitted, sighing. “She’s always been the one. I’ve always known that if I ever wanted to settle down and have a family of my own, if I didn’t have it all with Y/N, then I didn’t want it at all.”

Becca nodded as she rubbed his back, sighing. “She’s been through a hell of a lot, Bucky. She’s been through enough. She really needs a good family, one where she feels loved and accepted... and we have a damn good family, one that can love her... like family should. She’s earned every right to be a part of what we have. She deserves to be a Barnes.”

Pulling back from the hug, he wiped away his tears before looking down at the box that his sister had just handed him. Opening it to reveal the piece of jewelry that he had been so familiar with, he looked up at her. “Becca, is this...?”

“Our grandmother’s ring?” She nodded. “Yeah, it is. It’s the same one that she gave mom after she got married to dad. It’s a Barnes family heirloom and Y/N deserves it. Mom’s been holding onto it for the moment you... found yourself a woman you want to marry. She told me... what better way to welcome a new Barnes into the family than with a Barnes family heirloom?”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Promise me that you won’t put this off like you’ve been doing for all these years.” She asked her brother. “Promise me that you’ll do it sooner rather than later.”

Your James smiled before giving his sister a nod. “I promise.”

It had taken Bucky ten quick minutes to get dressed for work. As he was low on time, he was a little rushed. He had apologized to you a few times for having to leave you so abruptly and that too in the presence of his mother and sister.

But you had assured him that it was fine. “I knew you were on call, James. It’s cool. I’m just glad I don’t have to spend a few hours alone until Peggy gets here. It’s nice to have some company.” You told him.

He nodded as he leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, you hear me? Your meals are in the fridge. Please eat on time and take your meds on time. No moving around too much while I’m gone and no trying to do chores either. You’re here to rest, not to be my unpaid housekeeper. Understood?”

You gave him a nod as your lips curled into a pout. “Yes, Dr. Barnes.” You giggled. “I’ll be fine. You’re leaving me with Brooklyn’s best internist and PI. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He chuckled softly as he turned over to look at his mom and sister, silently pleading them both not to overwhelm you in any way. He knew that they both understood, but he could not be so sure about it. After all, he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable.

“Oh don’t you worry, James. Rebecca and I can definitely keep her entertained while you’re gone.” Winnifred reassured her son, to which he had simply rolled his eyes in a playful manner.

“Bye Ma...” He waved at his mother, and then at his sister. “Bye Becca...” He turned to you. “Goodbye, doll. I love you... all three of you.” And with that, he turned around and made his way out the door.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and you hid your face away from Becca’s teasing look.

“Our boy’s turned into complete mush, Ma.” The PI noted as she giggled, her arm wrapped around you as you hid your face.

“I’ve never seen him so happy.” Her mother agreed, turning over to look at you. “Steve told me just how much he loves you, Y/N. I’m so happy for him... and for you. You two really deserve each other.”

“James... is a really great guy, Winnie.” You agreed as you looked up at her. “And I have you to thank for that.”

As the hours went by, both Winnifred and Rebecca Barnes had stayed with you. They had kept you fairly occupied, talking about the one man whom you all loved. You had learned a lot more about your James that day, by just listening to them talk for hours on end about him. Both Winnie and Becca had a lot of stories to share, from his childhood to his adulthood.

You had come to learn that Bucky had been a complete nerd at school due to his photographic memory, often being picked on by the other kids for his smarts. But he had always had a backbone too, standing up to his bullies when they picked on him and when they picked on Steve. That was no surprise for you though. He had stood up for you too. While his mother had told you stories of him as a child, his sister had been the one who had shared the most embarrassing ones of all – his first crush, his first kiss, his prom date... the dirt on Bucky that his mother would not have known. All in all, you had learned a lot about his life more than you had done that morning and you could not have fallen even more in love with him than you already were.

When lunchtime rolled around, Becca had been the one to heat up your pre-prepared meal while Winnie had read through the copy of Natasha’s specific instructions that Bucky had stuck to the refrigerator and took out the right medications for you to take. But the stories never stopped. They had kept their word to Bucky and kept you more entertained that any show on Netflix could have. You had learned quite a lot about Shelbyville, Indiana, where the Barnes were originally from and their family’s estate there. They had even managed to sneak an invite for you to be there for the next Barnes family reunion. For a family that had been well settled in Brooklyn, they still kept in touch with their roots. You admired that.

Becca had left shortly after lunch though, as she had to pick up her children from pre-school and head home. Before you knew it, the sun had set and you found yourself sitting in the living room with your boyfriend’s mother, a glass of cranberry juice in your hand and a glass of wine in hers. You had talked to her about how she had managed to have a successful career as a doctor, while also raising four children of her own. You had admitted two her of your interest to someday have a family of your own as well while still continue working, something that you never would have dreamed of a week ago. But things had changed for the better.

You had to admit that this woman acted like she was more of a mother to you than your own mother, despite only having known you for a few hours. You knew where James got his charm and good heart from. It was all from his mother. Winnie had been the one to heat up your dinner, before stealing one of her son’s portions for herself. As the two of you sat down to eat at the dinner table, Peggy had arrived to take up her shift with you according to Wanda’s schedule.

“Peggy, darling, I should have called you sooner but I just got so caught up with talking to Y/N that I forgot.” Winnie apologized to her. “Go home to your husband and kid, seriously. I have no problem staying with Y/N for the night. James wouldn’t be back until the morning and I’m sure you’ve got to be at work tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

“Winnie, are you sure?” The attorney asked her. “I really don’t mind staying with Y/N.”

“Honey, I have no job and my husband’s out of town. I have no problem spending the night here with Y/N until James gets out of work. Just go!” She told her with a chuckle.

The British woman wiggled her eyebrows at you when the other was looking away before she bid you farewell. Boy, was she going to give Steve a treat for spilling the beans to Winnifred Barnes.

You had been sitting on the couch with your feet up, pulling the blanket over your body as the sun had set and the stars had filled up the sky, little twinkling lights that reminded you of your endless night shifts with Dr. Barnes. You felt the happiest when you worked the night shifts with him, splitting take out and chatting away about the weirdest things. And now you were doing almost the same with his mother. “Thanks for being here, Ma...” You told her as you turned over to look at the woman who sat in the loveseat across from you. Your eyes were a little droopy from the exhaustion of the day despite not doing much. It seemed as though you found yourself becoming tired rather easily nowadays, thanks to the medications you were taking and the extensive process of literally re-growing an organ that you had managed to cut off and donate.

“I think it’s time you went to bed, sweetheart.” Winnie told you as she watched you let out a yawn.

You shook your head. “Maybe in a few minutes...” You told her, letting out a soft chuckle. “I haven’t been able to sleep on the bed. It feels too soft sometimes. Plus, I’m way too comfortable on this couch right now so... let me just savor that some more and then I can go to bed.”

A soft chuckle escaped the woman’s lips as your response and she stood up from her seat. “How have you been sleeping then?” She asked you as she sat down next to you on the couch, her arm wrapped gently around your shoulder.

“Well, James... usually stays up until I fall asleep. He sleeps in the guest room with me sometimes.” You replied, blushing slightly. “I think he likes to watch me sleep, to make sure I’m okay. And when he’s working nights, Nat and Wanda... snuggle up to me until I fall asleep.”

You did not even realize how that conversation had ended. But unbeknownst to you, you had managed to fall asleep on Winnifred Barnes’ shoulder that night. Not wanting to wake you up, the woman had made herself comfortable on the couch while she laid your head on her lap, her hand gently stroking your hair while she had dozed off.

When Bucky Barnes had returned to his penthouse apartment following his excruciating night shift, the least that he would have expected was for you to be asleep in the guest bedroom with Peggy taking the couch. But what he had walked into was something much better than that. Seeing you fast asleep on his mother’s lap while she had woken up to the sound of him coming home was everything he could have wanted and more.

He tiptoed over to the living room, setting his bag down on the coffee table before sitting down on the loveseat across from his mother. “I’ve never seen her sleep so peacefully... and believe me, I would know. I’ve watched her sleep quite a few times.” He whispered, trying not to wake you up.

Winnifred Barnes laughed softly at her son before shaking her head, her hand still clutching onto yours as you slept. “Steve may have mentioned that as well. He would never leave anything out.”

“That punk...” He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “But... uh... are you not mad at me for what I did, Ma? I should have at least told you and dad before I went ahead with my... excessive spending.”

“Oh James, you know you don’t have to apologize for that.” She shrugged it off. “You were protecting the woman you love, as you should have. If anything, it just made me so proud that... I must have done something right, raising an absolute gentleman like you.”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “Yeah... well... I wasn’t always a gentleman. I think the term that one would use to describe me was... fuck boy or man whore. I’m pretty sure it was one or the other.” He had to admit that he was ashamed of his past. He had to apologize for the way his actions had often brought shame to his parents back then. “I gave you and dad such a hard time, acting so reckless and stupid.”

“You were young... and stupid, kid. But that’s all part of growing up. You do stupid things but you eventually learn from them. We can’t hold it against you for doing what everyone else your age was doing.” Winnie told her son. “But I think your father and I both knew that you would grow up eventually and you would change. We couldn’t be more proud of you, for everything you’ve accomplished as a surgeon... and as a philanthropist.”

“I don’t think I should take credit for that, Ma.” He smiled, motioning towards you. “It was all her. She made me better.”

“And that’s why I knew that she’s the one.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring box that Becca had given him the day before. “Thanks for this, Ma.” He told her as he fumbled with the box for a moment, looking up at his mother with a content smile. “Thanks for everything. Thanks for being a good mom. I was lucky to have a mom like you and now I know that not many people can say that about their mothers, Y/N included.”

“The best part of being a mother was coming home to you and your sisters. Your dad and I had you before we did our residencies. When we moved to New York, we weren’t sure how we were going to manage raising you while working full time. Sarah was a big help but I always knew that I had to do my best to be a part of your life. I was not going to put my career over my children, because in the end it was your father and I who decided to have you when we had you.” She told him, a genuine smile evident on her face. “I love you, James. I always wanted you to know that, because a kid should never be deprived of a mother’s love, no matter how old he is or if he’s the best heart surgeon in New York. You’ll always be my little boy and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too, Ma... and I know that as she gets to know you, Y/N would love you too. She needs a good mom in her life and you’re the best mom I know.” Standing up from his seat, he walked around the coffee table to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You should probably go home and get some sleep. I’ve got her from here.”

James Barnes had a few hours to contemplate how he was going to do this. But he knew that this was exactly what his heart had desired. He was going to ask you to marry him the moment you woke up, not because he wanted to rush you into this relationship. He was not impatient, but this was not for him. He knew that Becca had been right about one thing – you needed a good family and the unconditional love that came with it. You needed a mother who would shower you with love and a father who would treat you as a human being. You had your girl friends but you also needed sisters. You needed to be a part of something more than just your little group of friends at the hospital. You needed family.

When Peggy’s parents had refused to attend her wedding to Steve, she had been quite upset. When he had asked Steve why their absence was such a big deal, Steve had explained to his promiscuous self that marriage was more than just two people coming together. It was about two families coming together as one. But you did not have a family of your own, so he might as well make you a part of his.

Bucky, although claimed to be lacking in the romantic department, had certainly proved that he was capable of pulling off some elaborate proposal if he wanted to. He could certainly afford it and a woman like you deserved to get engaged in style. But if he knew one thing about the woman he loved, it was that Y/N Y/L/N lived a rather simple life. She did not care for the riches, but for the thought that went behind every single thing he would do for her. You would want a simple yet genuine proposal from him, so that was exactly what he was going to give you.

“I loved hanging out with your mom and sister. I got a lot of dirt about you and your rebellious years. You’ve lived quite the life, Dr. Barnes.” You told your boyfriend as you made your way towards the kitchen once you had showered and gotten dressed. A look of confusion had plastered across to your face as the aroma of fresh pastry lingered up to your nostrils, much to the contrast of the usual morning oatmeal topped with fresh berries that you had been so used to. “James?”

“I was thinking... that after four whole days of oatmeal for breakfast, you might want something a little bit more indulging.” He chuckled softly as he set a plate of Cannoli’s on the kitchen island. “I ordered it from the little bakery down the street. They’re my favorite cheat meal.”

“Cannoli’s?” You asked, your eyebrow raised as you sat down on the chair. “What’s the occasion?”

“It was the closest thing I could find to a Venetian feast at such short notice.” He replied with a shrug as he walked around the kitchen island to kiss you softly.

“Why a Venetian feast?” You asked him as you picked up one of the pastry rolls and took a bite, letting the chocolate-y mascarpone filling give life to your partially dead taste buds.

Your James took a step back from you for a moment, taking your free hand in his as he bit down on his bottom lip. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right now, because he did not want to put this off like he had put off confessing his love to you for years. He was not going to keep you waiting on him any longer that he had already done. “As our good friend William Shakespeare once wrote... You see me, Lady Y/L/N, where I stand... Such I am. Though for myself alone... I would not be ambitious in my wish... To wish myself much better, yet for you... I would be trebled twenty times myself- A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich- That only to stand high in your account.”

Your eyes glazed over as you realized what he was saying. It was Portia’s monologue to Bassanio before she gave him her ring as a symbol of her love and commitment to him in The Merchant of Venice. The only difference though, was that he had changed the pronouns. “James.”

“Happy in this- he is not yet so old... but he may learn. Happier than this- he is not bred so dull but he can learn. Happiest of all is that his gentle spirit... commits itself to yours to be directed... as from his lady, his governor, his queen. Myself and what is mine to you and yours... Is now converted.” Bucky was in tears as he pulled out the little black ring box from his pocket and held up to you, dropping to his knee as he showed you the ring. His heart was beating right out of his chest, but for once he felt truly alive. His heart was no longer stone cold or dead. Yes, you had thawed him out completely. “I give them with this ring.”

You looked down at the vintage diamond ring that he had been holding. “James...” You crouched down to grab his face, his hair getting entangled with your fingers as you wiped away his tears with both of your thumbs.

“I’ve lived a life so different from yours, Y/N. I had all the money in the world and a loving family. I want what was mine to be yours too.” He sniffled. “I want you to have a family. I want you to be a part of mine. I want you to be a Barnes, if you would accept my proposal.”

Your voice was trembling and you were unable to speak. You nodded your head quickly as you continued to cry, your hands not leaving his face. Your eyes darted down to the ring that he had been holding and you nodded once more. Removing your hands from his cheeks, you held out the palm of your left hand towards him.

Bucky grinned widely as he wiped away his tears, retrieving the ring from its box to gently slide it onto your ring finger. “You don’t have to marry me right away. It can be tomorrow morning or ten years from now, I don’t care. You don’t have to have a custom made dress and flower arrangements. A courthouse wedding with a judge and two witnesses is more than enough for me, as long as it’s you that I’m marrying.”

“I think I have a better idea, Dr. Barnes.” You told him as you took both of his hands in yours. “How about we get married on Valentine’s Day? In your hometown of Shelbyville, Indiana... at your family’s estate, surrounded by your family and all of our friends. Steve would be your best man. Sam, Clint, your other friends and your brother-in-law would be your remaining groomsmen. Natasha would be my maid of honor and she’ll help me plan the wedding, from the color scheme to the flower arrangements and picking out a dress. Your three sisters, Peggy, Wanda would be my bridesmaids. Sarah and your little niece would be flower girls, your nephew the ring bearer and... the Chief’s ordained so he can marry us. Your parents will be sitting front row... and Matthew can walk me down the aisle.”

#better #aj writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #doctor!bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel x reader #marvel au #doctor au

379 notes · View notes

i-am-minie · 4 years ago

Text

Okay.. so I wanna know what's it up with myself. The big question, everyone asks themselves and so many people have laid their life down.. to find the meaning of it. Now, I don't need to know everything. Discovering new things is exiting and it's wonderful, it gives me a feeling of achievement. Just.. one thing I've been.. sometimes questioning lately is keeping me awake. I say sometimes, because most of the time I'm telling myself that it's just a wish for being special and a boredom during quarantine and an imitating my friends. But then also there is this sometimes, when I look back and I'm like: "but what if-"

I should probably say, WHAT that thing is, that's keeping me awake at night. It is.. my gender. Gosh, only writing this is so weird, especially since I'm constantly telling my brain to shut up about it.. xD

Well, anyways, so there are a few things, that happened, that.. might indicate something, so I'm just gonna tell them. (This is a seeking for advice, if you haven't noticed, because I don't know shit)

Number 1: When I was in kindergarten, I was really jealous of my brother - why? Because he had a penis and I hadn't. Doesn't sound very girl like, does it? I used to get sad whenever my parents told him to quick jump out of the car to go pee. Because he could pee standing up. Me and my sister couldn't and I wanted to be able to pee standing up. I can't really remember that many particular feelings, just this overall jealousy. But the thing is, that was just logic, mixed with childish "my brother has it, I want it too".. right? I'm autistic, so it's not that unlikely wishing for weird things because of reasons, that seem perfectly logical to me. Right?

Number 2: There were and there are times, before I even thought anything about a gender, where I felt.. not right in my body. But also not wrong, liked, I didn't want to have a male body, I never thought of that. I like to describe it as "an alien who borrowed a humans body, forgot about being an alien and now unknowingly misses their old body". Uh.. yeah. But also, couldn't this be blamed on my autism? This.. feeling disconnected to the world and a human body and everything? At these times, it wasn't always too bad, but there were times, when I nearly cried, I just wished I could yeet my soul off into space or be.. just nothing humanlike. I wished for being mist, because mist doesn't have a body, therefore having a body couldn't feel not right since.. you don't have one. You get it, right?

Number 3: This is the one, that has happened the most recent and I had already thought about if I was a girl or not. So I was laying in bed, just casually chatting on my phone, when I suddenly wished for people to talk about me, using they/them so hardly that I, again, nearly cried. But since that was already at the time I was thinking about this topic, I'm telling myself, that my brain just made that up/that I just tricked myself into wishing that somehow

Number 4: for years I've been doing this: staring into the mirror and just trying to make it look like I don't have boobs, by pressing them down with my hands or by bending so that my shirt due to gravity looks kinda like I don't have boobs. But also.. I'M PROBABLY JUST COURIUS FOR HOW I'D LOOK WITHOUT! I mean, it's not like I hate my tiddies or anything. They are just a part of this body, so I should live with them. It's not like I want a male body anyways, so yeah. Male or female body, that's unfortunately everything the human race can get. Idiotic, if you ask me.

Can I be a frog please? Then I wouldn't have to deal with this social construct called gender and the confusion, that comes with it.

3 notes · View notes

justgottafinishthischapter · 6 years ago

Text

Building A Character: Creating a Personality

Coming up with a character in and of itself is easy. Let’s use for example a tough chick who grew up on the streets and steals, kills, and spies to make ends meat. So I’ve created an ends justifies the means, self-preserving, and probably loner rogue archetype. So congrats, I’ve made a character. What she lacks however, is a personality. She has no depth or anything interesting about her. For this exercise, I’ll be referring to her as Samantha Pole.

Something that works for me that might not work for others is that I tend to form base personalities and character arcs from characters I’m reminded of when I think of the character I’m creating. With regard to Sam, characters like Raven from Teen Titans and Emma Swan from Once Upon a Time are great models for her character because both are closed-off loaners who have a hard time letting people in. This is helpful for me personally as a way of recognizing traits I see in this character in other similar characters. Then I can evaluate their characters and their arcs and see how the writers handled their characterization, and how I might have handled it differently. This might also be when I look at their character’s tropes on TV Tropes to see what might work for the character of Sam.

Now that we have a base template and outline of who Sam is, let’s start analyzing ways and methods to help give her depth. For me personally, it really helps me to sort my characters. Such sorting includes:

Myers-Briggs Test 4 Temperaments Hogwarts House Avatar Element Game of Thrones Play style Astrological Sign Sense of Humor

MYERS-BRIGGS TEST

The Myers-Briggs test divides people into 16 personality types in 4 fields of traits and dynamics. The first letter is either I (Introvert) or E (Extrovert). What this means is not whether they’re sociable. I myself can be very friendly and outgoing. However, at a big social gathering with lots of strangers, I feel uncomfortable and would rather stay close to someone I know. Thus, I am an Introvert. The second qualifiers are N (Intuitive) or S (Observant). Intuitive types think about the world in the abstract and what could be rather than what is. Observant types see the world for what it is and take the world more literally, focusing more on the present than daydreaming about what might be. The third category is T (Thinking) or F (Feeling). Do they act more on logic or emotion? Do they lead more with their head or their heart? Thinkers tend to plan ahead while Feelers tend to act first. Thinkers are more practical while Feelers are more empathetic. Finally, we reach J (Judging) vs P (Prospecting). Judging types are orderly, procedural, predictable, and well-structured. Prospecting types live on a whim doing whatever feels right in the moment and meeting challenges when they arise. So based on these traits, I would have to label Sam an ISTP type. She’s a loner so she’s not going to like large groups or put her trust in others. She’s in a bleak and realistic situation, so she’s probably not going to have her head in the clouds if she wants to survive. Being a thief and sneak is going to require some forethought, and being able to overrule emotion with logic. And because she’s probably always on the move, she can’t really let herself fall into routine. This may be her most balanced trait, as there would likely need to be a lot of judging in order to look out for herself, but I feel that due to the unpredictable state of her life, she can’t really rely on structure and order. So now that you’ve learned what your character’s Myers-Briggs personality is, it’s time to figure out what that means. But while there are plenty of websites that have tried to paint out exactly what each trait could mean, I personally found a lot of value in videos put out by IDRlabs on Youtube that all follow the format of ISTP in 5 minutes. They use cute little cartoon cut outs to explain in a dry but informative way how a personality type works best when problem solving, figuring something out, how they go about putting their trust in others if they do at all, etc. I recently sorted one of my own characters as an INFJ, and their video helped me figure out when he’d seek the advice of others and when he would seclude himself to try and work through problems on his own, which I found to be very useful.

FOUR TEMPERAMENTS

The four Temperaments or the Four Humors is a construct straight out of Ancient Greece, and was even still upheld in Medieval Europe. It was believed that these personality types were actually caused by contents of the body, and that letting out certain fluids would change one’s temperament. Those being Choleric (Yellow Bile) Sanguine (blood) Melancholic (Black Bile) and Phlegmatic (Phlegm). Cholerics are aggressive leaders who charge into danger, but can be bossy dictators. Sanguines are jolly and cheerful, if not a little immature. Melancholics are reflective artists, but can be aloof and worrisome. Phlegmatic are calm and level-headed mediators, but can be shy and meek. Fun fact, in Medieval medicine, women were always supposed to be Phlegmatic, and being too much of the other three meant she must have been unbalanced and it was time to call the doctor to come bleed her or pull out some bile so that she could return to normal. TV Tropes has a page listing all the different associated traits, and some do overlap so it’s a good idea to arrange these into a graph. It’s also worth noting that unlike other personality tests, this one is not so much about just picking one. Everyone has all 4 types inside of them, it’s more a question of how these traits rank in order of relevancy to one’s personality. For Sam, I would say that she’s primarily Choleric with that aggressive drive to survive, followed by a stoic and reflective Melancholic, a compassionate Phlegmatic, and then at the bottom a jovial Sanguine.

HOGWARTS HOUSE

Everyone already knows this one, I don’t really need to explain it. But if you’re not sure where a character would be sorted, Mawrti on Youtube made videos for Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff that sort multiple fandom characters into houses and have much longer lists of character traits to really help you get a feel for where your character belongs. While I don’t agree with every sorting myself, I still think it’s a useful guide. For Sam, I’d say she’s a Slytherin. She doesn’t have time to let emotion cloud her actions, and she does what she feels is necessary in the name of self-preservation. It doesn’t mean she’s heartless, it just means she knows when to set emotion aside and do what needs to be done. Slytherins understand that sometimes completing the goal is more important than sparing someone’s feelings.

AVATAR ELEMENT

Water is the element of change. It is the element of adaptability and balances offense with defense, able to turn one into the other. Water follows the path of least resistance, spreading in every direction until it finds the shortest and quickest route to the sea. The people of the Water Tribe use wolf symbolism frequently in their culture, as they are focused on the benefit of the group rather than the individual which is crucial for surviving in their arctic home. Earth is the element of substance and defiance. Its people are determined, stubborn, and unyielding. Their spirit and will is as solid as the very earth they bend. Earth benders are hard to rattle, and when something goes wrong, they’ll dust themselves off and push forward. Rather than avoiding obstacles, they ride it out and overcome. Fire is the element of Will. Firebending is the act of taking ones desires and willing them into affect. Firebenders are passionate, ambitious, and merciless in pursuit of goals. They have the foresight to envision what they want to achieve and the drive to make it happen. Air is the element of freedom. The Air Nomads value peace, harmony, and oneness with nature. They are pacifistic, valuing spirituality and mediating tensions between the other three elements. But they can also be too detached, avoiding problems and running away from responsibilities rather than dealing with them. Sam is tricky because she has the drive to survive and accomplish this goal of a Firebender, the resilience and fortitude of an Earthbender, and the adaptability of a Waterbender. However, I would ultimately rule that she is a Firebender, as she is most heavily characterized by her will to live and overcome by any means necessary.

ZODIAC SIGN

There are multiple websites dedicated to this stuff, so I won’t really bother to go into it here. But something I personally enjoy doing is combining Zodiacs with alchemy ideas to decide someone’s “Core Element” as I like to call it. What I mean is that each Zodiac basically comes with 3 elements. Each Zodiac itself is tied to Water, Earth, Fire, or Air. Each season is tied to an element as well. Spring is Air, Summer is Fire, Autumn is Earth, and Winter is Water, at least in Medieval alchemy. And each zodiac is aligned with a celestial body, each of which is also tied to an element. Combine this with the 4 Temperaments: Phlegmatic (Water), Melancholic (Earth), Choleric (Fire), and Sanguine (Air); and with Harry Potter Houses: Slytherin (Water), Hufflepuff (Earth), Gryffindor (Fire), and Ravenclaw (Air); and the Avatar element you gave them and the element that appears the most frequently across the board is their true “Core Element”. For Sam, I would say that she is a Scorpio. Scorpio is a Water sign starting in November. Sept, Oct, and Nov are the three Autumnal months, so she’s seasonally Earth. Neptune and Pluto sort of both rule Scorpio. Neptune is Water aligned and Pluto is Earth aligned. She’s Choleric, a Slytherin, and a Firebender. Her final element tally would come to: Water (3), Earth (2), and Fire (2). Thus her core element is Water.

GAME OF THRONES PLAY STYLE

Each of the houses in Game of Thrones tend to play the game differently. House Stark are the honorable rule-followers. They keep their oaths, and are very traditional. They bow to the way things are, and tend to die because of this honor. They only start to thrive when they break this honor system and play the game like the rest of Westeros. Their words Winter Is Coming implies a readiness to face hard times, and a determination to survive as a group. A single wolf hunting alone in Winter is far less likely to survive. House Lannister is about upward mobility and maintaining their place. They are cunning and manipulative, able to play the chess game to put themselves into positions of power and influence. But that can also be a corrupting force. Their words Hear Me Roar speak to their ferocity, and their sigil of the lion showcases that with them, Family is about the survival of the pride. But that word pride is also a major flaw of the house, and their pride is one of their biggest detriments. House Tyrell strikes a balance between the two. Like the Starks, House Tyrell is unified with a genuine familial love for one another, like branches of a tree that all share the same roots. Like House Lannister, the Tyrells know when it its time for sweet honeyed words, and when it is time to wrap a thorny vine around their enemy’s throat. Their words of Growing Strong implies that they tend the garden of their schemes and they reap what they sow. They have an eye for the long game and the patience of a gardener to bring that plan to blossom. The exact counter is House Grayjoy, who take what others have made for their own. They are as hard as iron and as cold as the salty sea. They are raiders who take what they must to survive. Their words We Do Not Sow speaks to this willingness to take what is not theirs by right and reflects the pirate and viking origins they get their historical basis from. House Targaryen is the near extinct house of Daenerys, characterized by Machiavellian strategy, cunning, and a merciless iron fist to opposition of authority. While Danny fights for just causes, yelling and burning is a primary method of dealing with her problems, and her stubborn pride causes her to be unreasonable and arogant at times, especially when she was the Queen of Meereen. House Baratheon are really better soldiers than politicians. They make better walls than scholars, and have a temper about them. It is only Renly, who lacks many of the Baratheon traits, who is a genuinely fitting politician. Their words Ours is the Fury speaks to their aggression and wartime tactics. Their sigil of the deer is fitting not only as the king of the forest, but that deer fight a lot among themselves during mating season. Frankly, I don’t know the playstyles of House Martell, Tully, or Arryn. They’re smaller houses in the narrative of the show. If you want to know more, check out their house symbolism videos on Youtube. As far as Sam goes, I think she’s a Grayjoy. Not necessarily looking to claim the Iron Throne, just working to keep herself alive no matter who she has to hurt to do so.

SENSE OF HUMOR

Everyone has some sense of humor. Some have more than one. But the kinds of things they find funny says a lot about the kind of person they are.

Sarcasm (snide remarks, usually pessimistic. Think Daria.)

Irreverent (nothing is sacred, anything can be made fun of. Think Family Guy)

Toilet/Low-Brow humor (bathroom and sex jokes, think Teen Titans Go!)

Gross-out Humor (comedy from making people cringe at the disgusting nature of what they’re seeing.)

Slapstick (physical comedy, laughing at pain. Think Three Stooges)

Satire (parodying and mocking other things, often centered on a theme or running gag. Think South Park.)

Social Commentary (An exaggerated or satirical jab at real world issues facing the modern world at the time the product was made.)

Dry Humor (often pairs with Sarcasm, it’s a witty remark that’s often either a veiled, subtle, or clever jab at someone or something. Think Olenna and Tyrion in Game of Thrones.)

Dark Comedy (humor that comes from joking about a dark subject matter, or making light of a serious topic. can overlap with self-deprecating humor and aggressive comedy.)

Wholesome (jokes that don’t make fun of or belittle anything to make the joke. Think knock-knock jokes.)

Vaudevillian (comedy that often comes in the form of routines or running gags. Coyote and Roadrunner, Bugs and Elmer, and Tom & Jerry are all examples of Vaudeville style comedy routines.)

Self-Deprecating (comedy at one’s own expense.)

Pranks/ Deprecating (comedy at someone else’s expense)

Aggressive (comedy aimed at telling jokes that would upset certain types of people, often with little regard for how they’d respond. Think Ron White or Lewis Black.)

Sight Gag (comedy that is found in facial expressions, costumes, etc. Looney Tunes is a master of expressive sight gags, and Monty Python is no stranger to costume gags.)

Situational (comedy that comes from telling real life events where something funny happened. Think Gabriel Iglesias.)

Pop Culture Reference (jokes that acknowledge other works. Often overlaps with parody or in-universe play-on-word. Think Bojack Horseman.)

Torture Porn/Butt Monkey (comedy focused around torturing and kicking around a single person repeatedly, even when they didn’t do anything to prompt just comeuppance. Think Jerry Smith on Rick & Morty or Squidward in later seasons of Spongebob Squarepants.)

Conversing with the Camera (fourth wall breaking jokes that recognize the media that the story is set in. Ed Edd ‘n’ Eddy and Chowder both used this type of joke a lot.)

Once you’ve completed this step and have a solid idea of your character’s personality, it’ll be time to move on to motivations and character traits, but that’s for a later post.

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #author #writeblr #writer problems #writer tips #writer advice #do it write #write #writer #characterization #character building

1K notes · View notes

windfighter · 3 years ago

Text

You do care, don't you?

Kouji was sitting away from the others. He tended to do that, but it still made Junpei huff and cross his arms.

”He probably has his reasons”, Izumi said.

Junpei knew that but it didn’t make it right. They were supposed to be a group and how could they be a group if Kouji kept isolating himself?

”He needs to open up to us”, Junpei said and expected that to be the end of the discussion.

”Or maybe we need to open up to him.”

Izumi left him with that, walked away to get water from the stream or talk with Takuya. Junpei stared at Kouji, Kouji kept looking in the other direction. He could at least try to talk with the rest of them, but on the other hand why would he? He only cared about himself.

Junpei looked away as that thought crossed his mind. If Kouji only cared about himself, why had he saved Junpei and Tomoki from the Pagumons? Why did he return to the Soyokaze Village? Why did he want to help the ShellNunemons? Junpei let out a sigh and got up. Tomoki glanced at him, then went back to preparing dinner, and Junpei walked over to where Kouji was sitting. Kouji looked at him and then looked away again.

”Look”, Junpei started and scratched the back of his head. ”I… Uh… I’m sorry I said you didn’t care about anyone else.”

”It’s fine.”

Kouji didn’t look at him and Junpei puffed his cheeks in frustration and was about to say something else, but Kouji spoke before he could.

”Everyone says that, it’s okay. Maybe I don’t care about anyone else.”

Kouji took a shaky breath and once again Junpei was just about to say something when Kouji continued.

”Sorry I reacted so harshly to it, I just… thought you guys were different. Since you came for me.” Kouji looked at Junpei. ”No one ever came for me before.”

Something in Junpei broke at that. Kouji must have seen a change in his posture or something because his eyes widened and he turned away again.

”Not that I care”, he added a little too quickly.

”I know you do”, Junpei said. ”Because you saved us. And you weren’t there just for the spirit, were you? You were there for Gotsumon as well.”

”...he could have died”, Kouji clenched his hands. ”I want to get Izumi’s spirit back as well but… He really is out of our league. And we don’t know where to search for him.”

Kouji looked back to Junpei with a smile and Junpei took a step back.

”He was out of our league. Now that Takuya has stolen his beast spirit we might be able to take him once we learn where he is. Whatever’s waiting at Forest Terminal might know.”

”I shouldn’t have said you didn’t care”, Junpei said more to his shoes than to Kouji. Kouji shook his head.

”It’s not just your fault. I know how others see me.”

Kouji looked away again and leaned against the tree. Junpei wanted to say something more, but he didn’t know what. He scratched the back of his head, opened his mouth and closed it again. He could tell the conversation was over, he wasn’t stupid, but he wanted to apologize more. He let out a sigh. Kouji wouldn’t take another apology, he hadn’t even taken the first one.

”Sit with us for dinner”, Junpei said instead. ”You’re part of the group now, spend some time with us, get to know us.”

Kouji barely nodded, but Junpei took that as a win. He grinned.

”See you at dinner then.”

He lifted his hand in an awkward wave then went back to the fire to help Tomoki with the meat apples. Something in the group had changed after that conversation and Junpei was certain they’d get even stronger after this.

Next stop: Forest Terminal.

#my writing #digimon frontier #kouji minamoto #junpei shibayama #this takes place somewhere between Takuya getting Grottomon's beast spirit and the group arriving at Forest Terminal #time is a social construct and I can bend it as I need to :3 #no beta we die like kouichi

14 notes · View notes

atsoukalidis · 4 years ago

Text

A very interesting article / reminder for parents by my friend Elena Petre, that I repost here.

“Parental Self-Regulation and Tantrums

Recently, while browsing social media in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, I ran across the following two images: the first from the Facebook page of developmental psychologist Dr. Stephanie Grant and the second from the Instagram page @OurMamaVillage. These important statements inspired me to spend some time writing about this, as I realize some of these concepts are not self-explanatory to everyone out there.

At the therapy department of Child Advocates of Fort Bend, we use the terms “emotional regulation” and “dysregulation” a lot. These are key psychology concepts, especially in the context of treatment for trauma—which we specialize in.

SO, HERE’S A DEFINITION TO START:

“Emotional regulation refers to the process by which individuals influence which emotions they have, when they have them, and how they experience and express their feelings.”

Self-regulation is important because it allows children and adults to do well in the various areas of their lives: school, work, interpersonal relationships, etc. It also very much impacts our self-image and self-esteem, and it makes us feel good about what we can handle in life. Or, on the contrary, if we feel like our emotions get “the best of us” on a consistent basis and we’re not able to regulate well, we may label ourselves in a negative way, leading to harmful feelings like shame.

The thing about emotional regulation is that children look to their caregivers to co-regulate.

Because of this, a child will not be able to develop better regulation skills than the ones they see in the environment in which they grow up. Children are NOT born with the ability to calm themselves down—i.e. think of toddlers who cry until they get their needs met: food, sleep, soothing. Young children resort to tantrums as a means of getting the caregivers’ attention because they still have not developed the language and awareness to communicate like we (adults) do. As children grow up, they will watch the adults around them to learn how to internally process feelings and outwardly react to situations, especially emotional crises.

So, if a caregiver tends to engage in behaviors like frequent screaming, hitting, throwing things, cursing, shaming, belittling, emotional numbness, etc. when they are in crisis, a child who witnesses this may (1) become afraid because the person who they look to for safety is not in control of their own emotions, (2) internalize feelings of shame if the behaviors are directed at them, i.e. “I am a bad child”, and (3) likely become even more dysregulated. Some children will shut down emotionally as a way to compensate for the high levels of emotion their caregiver is displaying. This child will appear “very calm,” but inside feel numb. This way of coping is called becoming “hypoaroused,” and it can be an issue later in life because the child may become so used to shutting down that they may have a hard time identifying and feeling their own feelings, both positive and negative ones. Being hypoaroused can also lead children and teenagers to disconnect from their bodies and “gut feelings” so that when they’re in risky situations later in life, protecting themselves may become harder. Then there’s the children who, when they experience a dysregulated caregiver, will become “hyperaroused.” This means that they will also scream, curse, and throw things— essentially matching or “one-upping” the behavior they’re seeing. If the caregiver perceives this as disrespect or as evidence that the child is not “listening” or complying with the caregiver’s disciplining, and becomes even more dysregulated, then child and caregiver enter a vicious cycle that really damages the relationship and erodes the child’s self-esteem. Both hypoarousal and hyperarousal in children can result in interpersonal issues later in life.

And listen, we’re human beings—not machines. It’s ok to “lose it” sometimes. There will be times when we’ll make mistakes and yell, be unfair to someone we care for or react in the heat of the moment. I’m not saying that losing control sometimes means being a bad parent or caregiver, or that it results in ruining a child’s life. Going back to apologize and correct when we make mistakes can repair the relationship and has the added benefit of modeling humbleness, self-awareness and genuine apologizing to children.

What I really want to leave you with, however, is that emotional regulation is very important and that it is NOT a matter of willpower only. Some people come from families where there was a high degree of dysregulation—likely as a result of generational trauma. If this is your case, and you’re telling yourself, “Next time I’ll control myself; I’ll just force myself to do better”—you may be in for a disappointment.

The good news is that emotional regulation is a skill, not an identity we’re either born with or not. When we didn’t know how to drive yet, we didn’t just tell ourselves, “I’ll force myself to drive and it will work.” We had someone else teach us and then we practiced what we learned. It’s ok to lack an emotional skill; that’s not our fault. But it is our responsibility to get the support we need to practice this skill—especially if it impacts others.

Therapy is a great place to start. Meditation and mindfulness are also really helpful in slowing us down. Have candid and vulnerable conversations with your children when things are calm and ask them how they perceive your reactions during high-emotion times and how it makes them feel. Take a free parenting class online if you think it may be helpful. Operate from a place where you are separating your child’s behaviors from who they are; your child did something bad, they are not bad. And if you’re so emotional that you can’t make that differentiation, take a break. Try not to discipline when you’re at your angriest.

Sometimes I hear parents say things like, “I just have a short fuse; it is who I am” or “a loud tone is just how I talk.” And while I see where they’re coming from, this sort of black-and-white thinking can be very limiting. A more constructive and hopeful thought could be: “I struggle to regulate emotionally. It’s a skill I did not have the opportunity to really develop early on in life, but I am committed to do the work and get better at it now so that it does not cause my children pain.”

It’s not too late. It can get better; YOU can get better at it—but there’s some work involved.

So, forget about that old phrase “do as I say, not as I do.” When it comes to emotional regulation, developing a healthy self-image and learning how to cope with challenges and strong emotions, children will do as we do, not as we say.”

Elena Petre, LMSW

References: Gross and Thompson, (2007): Emotion regulation: Conceptual foundations.

#philosophy #life #psychology #elena petre #parenting

1 note · View note

dcnativegal · 5 years ago

Text

Day 55 of Pandemic, & I’m sick

Monday, May 4, 2020. Day 55 of the global pandemic (declared by World Health Organization on March 11th.) We as a planet hit 3,500,000 cases today, and 250,000 deaths. There are many more than that, but the planet doesn’t have enough tests. But then, there was this announcement:

So obviously we’re in good hands. [Sarcasm alert.]

The entire planet has slowed down, such that seismologists can detect the quieting of the earth: less shuddering of industry, cars, construction. Check out the drop in electricity usage:

Here’s a bit of perspective from Instagram:

The Lesbians of Paisley have been fertile ground for viruses. Valerie is nearly recovered from the viral pneumonia she was diagnosed with on March 26 at the emergency room at Lake District Hospital. She’d begun to feel feverish and achy, with violent coughing on March 15th, 2 days after what turned into my last day in my office at the hospital’s primary care clinic, and a day and a half after we’d dined with our friends Toni, Al, Bonnie and Bruce in person, sans masks. We began 100% isolation from the outside world the minute she felt sick. She recounted the ER adventure to a friend thusly: We drove in and they have organized a system that resembles getting on a [military] base after 9-11. We sat in the pickup at the checkpoint until a somebody in protective attire had taken my temp and saturation levels and asked a bunch of questions. Then they slapped a red sticker on the dash, told us to park in the ER lot and "don't get out of the pickup." Five hours later I had donated blood and been CAT scanned. I had two pneumonia shots that were current and two flu shots, also current. They checked the blood against 14 different virus strains and came up blank. The chest showed white lungs and my saturation levels were iffy. So they used one of the tests they had been sent, gave me antibiotics (just in case) and sent me home. Took me three days to sleep off all that fun.”

Me and Griffey the poodle waited in the pickup for her. At every sound, he got up from the passenger’s seat and looked at the ER entrance where she’d disappeared. No Valerie? Back to sleep. I walked him 3 times. Hope, her RN daughter, told us that her flow through the ER was great practice in maintaining distance and perfect hygienic process through the CT scan, taking blood, even pushing her food on a tray to her. Lake Health District Hospital is prepared, and still, technically speaking, zero cases in the county.

I was so anxious about her health, her ability to breathe, that I gave up all thought of working from home. I listened to her breathing and coughing, brought her tea, and finally, asked her to write out her last will and testament. She did, and put it away. I figured, her kids are wonderful and won’t fight about stuff but, better for her to express her wishes, even if the paper wouldn’t be legally binding.

Apparently, I get the FrankenDodge (the pickup which has hit one too many deer and who’s grill is sewn together by wire). I’ll take it but I’d much rather have her.

We waited 10 days for the nasal swab results. While we waited, she got better. Never had that cytokine storm, nor that respiratory crash. Storms and crashes; pretty apt words for the medical horror of end stage COVID-19. Once her test came back negative, despite the warning of her PCP who says that nasal swabs miss between 30 and 47% of positive cases, I was able to go to town on the 10th of April, get some software downloaded onto the computer so I could work from home, and hit Safeway while wearing a mask. I also dropped off one of Valerie’s homemade masks to a friend, along with some toilet paper illustrated with Trump’s kissy face. The moment of levity was greatly appreciated.

I started feeling lousy six days after my jaunt to Lakeview (April 16th). Cough and release of gook high up in my chest. Headache. No fever. Who knows if I have COVID-19. We listen to a British gentleman, Dr. Campbell, daily, as he reviews what’s going on globally, and he interviewed a woman who had exactly my illness course, before she moved on to fever and gastrointestinal symptoms. She never got tested. Too much hassle. Which is so ridiculous, criminal really, and in the USA, a direct result of American hubris and incompetence. Fine. Anyone with any symptoms of any illness is isolated until we have a vaccine and treatment, is my prediction. I’m still feeling shitty, though better. Started taking antibiotics just in case and in the hopes of recovering SOMEDAY.

My son Jonah and his girlfriend June escaped just in time the terrible plight of New York’s COVID19 deluge of infections and hospitalizations. They’ve been in Baltimore at June’s mother’s beautiful home. He spent his 26th birthday in the basement because they were still in quarantine. See adorable picture, below. Now they’re allowed upstairs, enjoying the quiet. Apparently, writing and directing music videos is not an essential service during a pandemic, but he’s writing pitches and living off the most recent lucrative gig with Kesha, thank goodness.

One of the most moving things that is happening in the USA during this time is the 7pm clapping ritual for medical workers and first responders in New York City, in all the boroughs:

There’s a firefighter in DC who’s going to hospitals and nursing homes to play the bagpipe.

That’s where my daughter Clara lives, in DC, but right now she’s staying with a friend in Laurel, MD, since her group house dynamics are stressful and had a symptomatic guest at last report. She’s working from home to make sure the Latinx school children are getting the tutoring they need now more than ever. We worry about her husband Jose and his country, Guatemala, since there are COVID-19 cases down there, and refugees seeking asylum are being dumped there, with and without the virus. Over 700 cases in Guatemala as of today. We hope he will get to the USA this year. However, Trump referred to it as a shithole country, which doesn’t bode well.

My sister and her husband are well, thankfully. They work fulltime from home in the company of Pepper the cat and Darcy the chocolate lab. Yuuki, 25, stays there, too, mostly in their room; they are out of work and applying for unemployment. Kohji, age 28, works from home in DC and makes more money as a web designer than I ever will after 34 years as a social worker, but who’s counting. (I remember well the admonition of a field instructor back in 1987: don’t go into social work for Power, Pay or Prestige.) His girlfriend is probably out of work; she works for a nonprofit that plants trees in DC. Probably not essential work right this very minute. Makoto, 23, is out of quarantine and looking for something to do; he’ll be a senior at the University of Delaware this fall. As far as I hear on Facebook and email, the rest of the folks with whom I share DNA are well. So that’s good. I worry about my Aunt Mary Lee who is 87. But she says not to: she’s fine and her ritzy retirement community in McLean, VA is on “lockdown.”

Psychologically, in the experience of quarantine and ‘social distancing’, there’s me, and then there are my clients.

My moods go up and down, but a little further down than usual. The terror that Valerie might die of COVID-19 has passed, but I figure I will always need therapy. I have “Facebook messenger” video chats with my therapist, Darcy of Bend, every other week now, which helps. Having ‘Generalized Anxiety Disorder’ and a tendency toward major depression, I find therapy to be a corrective. A bimonthly tune up. Without it, I naturally veer toward negativity and neurosis, and a hypervigilance that served me well when I was a child, but is exhausting, overwrought and over-thought as an adult.

Psychologically, Valerie is always fine. Seriously. She was once told as a young woman by a therapist who’d tested her with the MMPI (the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) that she was outrageously and puzzlingly normal. Now that she’s feeling mostly well again from the pneumonia, she’s been tearing up the joint, fixing the sump pump that apparently keeps this little house from drifting down main street on the wetlands it’s built on. Digging out the leaves from our irrigation ditch, chopping and clearing the wood from our front yard.

The BEFORE picture:

The AFTER Picture.

And this happened one morning in March. Just a cattle drive past our front door.

Valerie’s planning a garden at her daughter’s place, which has a deer-proof fence and lots of sun up on the hill above us. A delivery of horse manure is scheduled, and the garden bed has been rototilled. Val’s granddaughter Jessica and her husband Alan are living up there now, working from home for their Portland-based gigs. They’re almost finished the 14-day quarantine since they moved down here. The new normal: anytime anyone leaves one locale for another, they disappear into strictest quarantine, not to leave their abode. Groceries are delivered to the doorstep. A recent day turned out to be Jess’ 25th birthday: I’d bought a canvas bag with a picture of a pug on it, like her dog Archie, and Valerie found something gluten free flour mix with fresh jam to give her. Birthday gatherings are suspect at the moment.

Here’s a lovely idea for quarantined birthday celebrations:

What a kind and generous offer.

Even in isolation, Val and I do socialize, on zoom. The one pictured below is church.

We ‘visit’ with our fellow parishioners from St. Luke’s on Sunday evenings. Then we say Compline together, from the Book of Common Prayer. My favorite prayer of all time is this one from that service.

Yes, shield the joyous. Because joy is fleeting.

Our writers’ group, Easy Writers, ‘meets’ on zoom every Monday now. I wrote this bit about my yarn for the prompt, ‘write something in your home that means a lot to you.’

I am doing a great deal of crochet and a little knitting.

Yarn is my comfort and my joy. It is the raw material I create blankets and scarves and hats with. My tools are hooks and needles made from wood and plastic and metal. My fingers are also my tools.

Some of the yarn is like cotton candy: spun mohair from a goat is said to have a ‘halo’ or ‘aura’ because of the gentle cloud of color you can see an inch or two away from the spun thread. Some yarn is like twine: you can see every string of ply. My favorite is merino wool and single ply. A unity of color that will not split. All for one and one for all, the fuzzy stuff is twisted and bound into a single string of strength…

My clients are stressed out. The pandemic adds a layer to the stress they were already experiencing. I listen and knit, from within the cocoon of the yarn room which my folks can see behind me. One of my clients wanders about with her phone in her hand while I get slightly dizzy. I like this kind of counseling since I get a glimpse of my clients’ homes. Reminds me a little bit of being a geriatric care manager. You can tell a lot about a person from their home. From my home you can tell that I have a lot of yarn, and I work multiple projects at a time because there are piles of them alongside my recliner.

One of the sad weights of being present for my clients is their level of estrangement for most if not all social connections, especially people with whom they share DNA. And every single one has what is called in the mental health world “complex PTSD” from multiple traumatic experiences. I sit with them, on the phone or via video. I hope to model for them what Carl Rogers called ‘unconditional positive regard.’ I breathe deeply to release my own distress at their sadness. We explore one tiny step toward reducing their isolation, the sense of trust. All during a pandemic where other people could be carrying a potentially deadly virus.

It’s no wonder I’m pawing mohair out of screen for my own comfort.

Sometimes I email clients links or articles on how to keep their spirits up, or about good things that are happening instead of the dire predictions they’re listening to or watching. There is much to share that is hopeful. I sent one to a client on creative ways to care for everyone and she shot back:

“I believe this is Liberal rhetoric.

Esp the paragraph below:

This current emergency provides the possibility for a new emergence—the birthing of a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people and the living Earth. “

Oh well. We can’t have a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people, now can we?

Sigh.

Brilliant writing is being penned right now, since the entire planet’s human inhabitants are barely one degree of separation away from this virus, which is apparently ‘barely alive’ and therefore hard to kill, as it spreads onward to make millions miserable and hundreds of thousands die.

I’m saving articles from The Atlantic, The NY Times, and the Washington Post, and following a historian named Heather Cox Richardson who writes a daily blog called Letters from an American. In a recent post she writes:

“The big news … has been the ‘protests’ of state governors’ stay-at-home orders and mandatory business closings to try to contain the novel coronavirus …These protests are a classic example of trying to control politics by controlling the national narrative. The protests are backed by the same conservative groups that are working for Trump’s reelection. …These are not spontaneous, grassroots protests. They are political operations designed to divert attention from the Trump administration’s poor response to the pandemic. Even more, though, they are designed to keep the American public divided so that we do not protest the extraordinary economic inequality the pandemic has highlighted.

These protests have diverted the national conversation by turning a national crisis into partisan division along the lines the Republican Party has developed since the 1980s... The change of subject protects not just Trump but also the ideology at the heart of his Republican Party. Since 1981, Republicans have argued that the economy depends on wealthy businessmen who know best how to arrange the economy—the makers-- and that it is vital to protect their interests. Under their policies, wealth in America has moved upward. The pandemic has highlighted how these policies have removed economic security for ordinary people. They cannot pay their bills, and they might well turn against an ideology that uses our tax dollars to bail out corporations while they must risk their lives to pay their rent.” [Emphasis mine]

I am so glad someone smarter than me can reveal the interconnections of what’s going on politically.

There is food for thought on Facebook and Instagram: in the guise of a rewrite of Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese, this poem.

Mary Oliver for Corona Times (after Wild Geese)

by Adrie Kusserow

You do not have to become totally zen, You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better, your body slimmer, your children more creative. You do not have to “maximize its benefits” By using this time to work even more, write the bestselling Corona Diaries, Or preach the gospel of ZOOM. You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn everything capitalism has taught you, (That you are nothing if not productive, That consumption equals happiness, That the most important unit is the single self. That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine). Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold, the ones you sheepishly sell others, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling. Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills, suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks. Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting, Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind, a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors. Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds, Could birth at any moment if we clear some space From the same tired hegemonies. Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch, Stunned by what you see, Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins Because it gives you something to do. Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing, Do not let capitalism coopt this moment, laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart. Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath, Your stress boa-constricting your chest. Know that your antsy kids, your terror, your shifting moods, are no less sacred than a yoga class. Whoever you are, no matter how broken, the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over announcing your place as legit, as forgiven, even if you fail and fail and fail again. remind yourself over and over, all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body all have their place here, now in this world. It is your birthright you be held deeply, warmly, in the family of things, not one cell left in the cold.

-Adrie Kusserow

Not one cell left out in the cold. Yes.

There is so much to be grateful for. I have a place to live, and even while paying off my bankruptcy debt, I have plenty. Enough that I can make small donations here and there. Here’s one cause I found: supporting foster children who were in college and now have no place to go. (Terrible visuals for the logo: it’s “Together We Rise.”)

Soon, the nights of below freezing temperatures will pass, and both Lesbians of Paisley will be healthy at the same time. Perhaps I’ll get my Tricycle-for-Grownups serviced and toodle around for exercise. Perhaps the Stitch & Bitch knitting/crochet gatherings will resume, maybe in a park for physical distance and social connection.

And maybe I’ve already had Covid-19, and so has Valerie. Looks like 50-70% of all the people on the planet, not quite 8 billion humans so maybe 4 to 6 billion people, need to catch this thing in order to give our species herd immunity. Or WILL catch it because we have no way to stop it, only to slow the infections so that health care is not overwhelmed. We live and Love in the Time of Coronavirus, to paraphrase Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I maybe a libtard, a snowflake, a lily-livered liberal, who’s heart bleeds. But I agree with this sentiment, found on Facebook, our American ‘commons’:

Love absurdly and abundantly, my people. And wash your hands.

#covidー19

2 notes · View notes

50pence · 5 years ago

Text

Will be able to Real Estate Still Be a Good Investment?

That's a question we are all expecting today. Why? Because of the many stock market investors who speculated in real estate, the problems surrounding sub-prime loans with the ending up foreclosures and bank failures, and falling home rates. If the late Dr . David Schumacher, my mentor for those past 10 years and author of the now-famous book, Any Buy and Hold Strategies of Real Estate, were however around, I know what he would say because he believed it during the last downturn in 1990-1995. He would tell us will not worry. This is only temporary and part of the normal circuit of real estate. It creates bargains that can benefit you will. This cycle has been happening since Montgomery Ward developed offering homes for $1, 500 through its fashion magazines. As sure as the sun rises and the seasons can be purchased and go, real estate will make those who own it rich more than a period of time. He would add that now is the best time to get incredible bargains in real estate. The Real Estate Cycle Real estate is still the perfect investment possible. It always has and always shall do well in the long run. This is the fourth real estate cycle I have been by means of and non-e of the downturns were fun. However , if you have had patience and look at the long term, your real estate will go right up in value more than any other investment. Do not treat realty as you might treat the stock market, worrying about the ups and down. Since 1929, real estate has gone up typically five percent a year; if you stay away from the obvious non-appreciating locations like Detroit, it is more like seven percent a year. Within that rate, properties will double in value through 10 years with compounding. Add a federal tax benefit of twenty-eight percent plus state tax deductions, the depreciation write-off for rental property, and the eventual pay-down of the payday loan and you have a strategy rich people have always utilized to accumulate wealth. Flippers Over the past 30 years I have watched many flippers who buy, fix up, and market. I do not know many who have much net really worth or are wealthy because of flipping. It is simply a highly risky way to make money. Those who have prospered are the ones who sadly are in it for the long haul and patiently watch their qualities increase in value over time. This past downturn was created through speculators who all flipped at the same time, putting too many components on the market for sale and rental. I guarantee that covering the long haul, you will always regret selling any property you will have every owned. Buy and Hold Since time tickets by anyway, the buy-and-hold strategy is a great way to turned into rich. Dr . Schumacher experienced at least five real estate cycles and did extremely well, acquiring an eventual net worthwhile of over $50 million. You just can't go wrong on purchasing an inexpensive condo, townhouse, or single-family home from a good location where there are jobs. Make sure you have a fixed-rate loan, make sure it cash flows, hold on to it for the purpose of 10 to 20 years, and you have a property that has bending or even quadrupled in value. When you need to retire, only do a cash-out refinance to live on or to supplement the retirement pension. For example , the first property I purchased pertaining to $75, 000, a townhome in Lake Arrowhead, FLORIDA, is now worth $650, 000. My first oceanfront property, which I purchased in Long Beach, CA, in 1982 for $112, 000 and used as my place, is now worth $500, 000. One-bedroom condos I paid for in Maui, HI, in the late 1990s for $80, 000 are now worth $400, 000. Homes I bought round the same time in Phoenix, AZ, for $75, 000 are actually worth twice that. I could go on and on and regarding. What are your Options? What are your options to building wealth in these days? The options are to buy real estate and build wealth or to not purchase property at all, to struggle a lot and possess nothing to show for it. 1 . You could do nothing. The particular 25 percent who do not own a home end up with no sources when they retire. They have a car loan and owe an average of $9, 000 on their credit cards. Those who do not purchase rental place may be forced to work past age 65 to supplementation their meager retirement income. 2 . You can try to depend upon your retirement. The above chart shows that you should not depend on your own retirement income alone to support you, because it won't. The on Social Security or most retirement programs land up living below the poverty line and are forced to be effective until they drop, so that is not a solution. Other investment decision options are not doing so well, either. 3. Invest in any stock market. We are definitely in a slowdown (I refuse to feel we will have a recession), so the stock market is not going to flourish for several more years. 4. Invest in gold and silver. They have already crafted their run; it is doubtful they will do much better. Silver and gold are used as a hedge against inflation and a weak greenback. It looks like oil prices are headed down as well as dollar is strengthening. 5. Invest in real estate. Those who commit to real estate almost always do well. The following graph shows how the finest one percent in income have acquired their huge selection. As you can see, the vast majority have invested in real estate. Don't Think Short-Term Real estate is not designed to be considered short-term. Right now, real estate will be down in value in many cities, but it is going together in many others. It is a terrible time to sell and retrieve any equity. Only about five percent of the properties will be for sale. Most homeowners and investors are simply holding on in their real estate and are waiting for the next upward appreciation cycle. Typically the Four Greatest MISTAKES People Make in Real Estate Realty always does well when purchased correctly. It is folk's choices and sometimes greed that mess up an essentially perfect investment. MISTAKE #1. Purchasing Property That is Dozens Can Afford Often individuals are attracted to and purchase a home they cannot afford to pay for. They struggle their entire lives just to make the particular payments. Then if they have an illness, job loss, or perhaps divorce, they are in big trouble. MISTAKE #2. Selecting Properties That Don't Cash Flow When rental properties 're going up rapidly, everything seems desirable and people purchase nightly rental properties that don't cash flow. Often that can lead to problems with large, negative cash flows when the market softens. Properties that cash flow are a no-brainer. They are great it doesn't matter what happens. These are the ones you want to buy and hold. Gradually they will be paid off. MISTAKE #3. Refying Too Much Out Once prices are going up, one is tempted to take out the maximum amount able on an equity line on one, s home or instigate a cash-out refi on a rental property. That is dangerous should one cannot make the payments or support typically the negative. It is like abusing one's credit cards, which often leads to bankruptcy. It is especially discouraging when values drop under the loan amount, as is happening with many individuals right now. One should not get discouraged, they will eventually bring back to their original value and then surpass that, usually with 2½ to 4 years. MISTAKE #4. Getting the Erroneous Loans We have all seen the problems with sub prime borrowing products. Those with low incomes were not the only parties using all these loans. Some bought million-dollar homes in a gamble construct y would up in value. Five-year Option ARMS even became popular, but they caused major problems to the real estate investor when they reset. Loans like these should be refinanced straight away. The same is true for adjustable-rate mortgages. Fixed-rate loans is the only suitable loan type for anyone who plans to keep on to his properties. Second Quarter 2008 Shows Best part Sales are up in 13 states, especially in the states hit hardest (California up 25. 8%, Nevada away 25%, Arizona up 20. 5%, and Florida " up " 10%), a strong sign that the market has bottomed as well as returning to normal. In addition , 35 cities across the U. Utes. show an increase in prices from the first to the subsequently quarter. Yakima, WA, rose 9. 9%; Binghamton, NEW YORK, rose 8. 7%; and Amarillo, TX, rose 7. 2% from a year ago. Conclusion It is never exciting to be in a down cycle and see the equity in your residence and rental property slip away. However , do not be frustrated, this is just part of the cycle of real estate. These downward cycles are always good times to pick up more property within great prices, but be sure you keep a reserve just for unforeseen problems (such as illness or job loss) so you can still make your payments. Make sure you purchase good real estate in good locations, priced below the median rate for the area, in markets that have good job development. Properties will return to their 7-plus percent appreciation then you can watch your wealth build once again.

1 note · View note

takashimasubuchi · 5 years ago

Text

Interviewed by Zoomin’ Night

by Zhu Wenbo and Zhu Songjie 2020/5/18

1．Maybe you could introduce yourself first. How old are you? When did you start playing guitar, and when did you start playing this kind of music? I mean, quiet, with blank and some special skills, beautiful improvisation music.

I was born in 1984. I have been living in Tokyo since I was born.I started playing guitar when I was in junior high school. I don't remember why started.Maybe I wasn't interested in anything else. Pelktopia that I played with Hironobu Shimazawa is my first carrier to play this kind of music as you say. We had been playing for 2 or 3 years and released some LP, CD-R, and cassettes. This unit played by half composition and half improvisation with Folk, Blues, and Minimalism feeling.We had a common language of music and similar aesthetic sense for sound.So we were able to develop music constructively. I still think the music in this unit was great.Many of my ideas for improvisation were born at this time. After that, I started to play as a solo player. At the beginning of my solo career, I was playing drone music with many pedals. But I think this was a big failure for me. I was just turning the knob and just fun pedal's effect. It is the best way to fill in time and space. But that’s just it. I got too far away from my roots and physical myself. I felt I had to create the sound more fundamentally in a primitive way. It was around 2015 that I started to have the current style.

2. Before playing this kind of music, what kind of music did you play? What kind of chance made you decide to change at that time?

First. I started playing as an electric guitarist in some bands, I mean something like a Rock'n'Roll guitarist. I guess every guitarist will yearn for it when young. At the same time, I was obsessed with a lot of black music. especially I love Blues like John lee hooker and Son House. I learned what is free for me back then and making space in music from them. I was also absorbed in jazz and copied mainly Wes Montgomery and learn the method by self-taught. But I couldn't play it properly. Also, I felt cramped in the chordal system. I feel that It was a necessary experience to identify what is important for me. But I eventually stopped playing in band and electric guitar. Because I felt it is difficult to play primitively and genuinely. I felt dishonesty with electric instruments my own. I want to be physically involved in my instrument without any knobs and cables. Fortunately, I don't get tired of playing acoustic guitar. There are still many discoveries from playing.

3. Maybe you could share some details about guitar. Do you have any special or personal interests on guitar playing? Such as special tuning, microtone, objects on preparing, or some other special playing skill…..

I have been trying many open and irregular tuning. Thereby I can find a new sound and resonance from the guitar. I'm really into my main guitar which is Martin D-28 Authentic 1931. I want to bring out all the possibilities of this guitar. Sometimes, I try a prepared guitar and some objects. For example, I was rubbing a metal bar on the fret to make overtone and drone on 2527's Track2. But my main focus is playing by fingers of both hands just normally. This is the best way to express subtle elements.

4. Most of your performances are improvisation. What do you think about in improvisation concert? Or maybe the question could be, what do you try to keep the notice on normally in your performance?

I'm thinking about "music" When I play as a solo.I mean like phrase, scale...or Whether I'm doing well what I practiced. especially I am interested in polymodal. I want to combine some scales to connect to song myself or something like a story. Free or not free, something new or already done in the past. these are not big subjects for me. These are meaningless to think about. Because I feel like a dead-end no matter where I go. I think it should be democratic when I play with other players, like our social ideals. We have to construct something good through conversation in music. As many say. a really good situation is not to think anything during performance.

5. What kind of music do you listen when you are driving? Last time I took your car, you played Morton Feldman’s piano box. But don’t you think Feldman is too quiet for traffic?

No. I don't think so. My car is very quiet. It's easy to listen to Feldman's music.

6. So maybe you could share us your music taste. What is all-time favorites? Maybe you could give us a top 10 choice. And what do you listen in these days?

This includes music that I don't listen to anymore. But I listened to often. In order I listened 1「Electric Ladyland」Jimi Hendrix 2「Live at Sugarhill」John Lee Hooker 3「Original Delta Blues」Son House 4「The Complete Live At The Plugged Nickel 1965」Miles Davis 5「Olatunji Concert 」John Coltrane 6 「Riley: The Harp Of New Albion」Terry Riley 7 「In Bern」Loren Mazzacane Connors + Jim O'rouke 8 「Semi-Impressionism」Tetuzi Akiyama + Toshimaru Nakamura 9「For Bunita Marcus by Stephane Ginsburgh」Morton Feldman 10「Dead Pan Smiles」Riuichi Daijo

My recent favorite is below. Some of them are not recent releases.

「Bending Contumax」Jean-Luc Guionnet Jean-Luc Guionnet is saxophonist and organist. I didn't know him until recently. this is amazing enormous work by improvisation from 2008 to 2014. I feel this is very structural in spite of early intention feeling. Published by No School Recordings run by Masahiko Okura.

「Memoria」Takumi Akaishi Takumi Akaishi is a Hardy Gurdy player who lives in Tokyo is very unique. This was made from Hardy Gurdy and field recording with his great poetic sense. Published by Art Into Life, a Japanese record shop and label in Tochigi prefecture.

「Œuvres Électroniques」 Eliane Radigue This was bought during my 2019 European Tour in Basel at Plattfon Records. This is a box of 14CD. You can know her pursuit of sound but need time to listen to everything!!

7. Please tell about Straytone. You told me that you have a long and deep collaborations with him. How many years did you play together? What is the collaboration based on? Compare to other musicians, is there any special meanings of playing with Straytone to you?

We have a different idea about music and playing. Straytone attaches importance to the context in music more than me.I'm gradually becoming less concerned about context. On the other hand. I think He does not attach importance to improvisation more than me. We can complement each other for making music.

8. The cassette remind me of Tetuzi & Toshimaru. Actually at the first time I saw your performance I found out Tetuzi’s influence. And for Straytone’s sound, I have to say, it is very closed to Toshi’s nowadays sound, though they use different instruments. I think in this cassette, Straytone’s sound does not sounds like most modular synthesizer musicians. So how do you think about Tetuzi & Toshimaru? Do you try to reference, borrow or avoid some idea from this classical Japanese duo?

I think that Tetuzi Akiyama and Toshimaru Nakamura are The most important improviser.「Semi-Impressionism」is the earliest music I've ever heard of improvisation music that's not jazz. This is my opinion on them. In particular, I was directly influenced by Tetuzi Akiyama as guitarist. His greatness is flipped over the concept of all avant-garde. It's like a dadaist but more based on his intuition and honesty. Toshimaru Nakamura is a very important person culturally of electronics improvisation scene. But he does not hesitate to break the culture himself and constantly update himself. He seems to be challenging himself at every concert without any attention to appearance. They play universal language and techniques in spite of based on very personal interest without systematized academic methods. They paved the way by this attitude especially for players without musical education or career. There have been groups with similar concepts in the past like AMM or Musica Elettronica Viva. But they are based on more western values or academism.

In the past, if we want to play with someone we had to learn the methods and languages that are already. Like Jazz, Classic also Rock music. Maybe It's also included "Free Improvisation". But They proved that we could play using each personal interests, techniques, and ideas without systematized academic methods or languages. It doesn’t mean there is no need to learn or practice. We got an environment that we can pursue what we feel really important to us individually. At the same time, we can communicate in music in any country, musical background, and culture. We can express each identity and exchange ideas in the music directly.

9. The cassette title is 2527. What did the name come from?

It is a secret.

10. Please also tell us about Permian, the venue you run. Could you describe it? How is the neighborhood and how does it looks inside? When did you start running this place? Why do you want to run a “only improvisation” venue? Sorry that I have never been to Permian before, next time I will, I promise!

Permian started in 2018. Running by me,Riuichi Daijo and some musicians. We often talked about almost venues have a lot of superfluous things for the concert. like bar counter, records, and BGM. We don't provide any drink, food, and BGM to concentrate on the concert and playing. An audience can choose admission fees between 1,000 to 3,000yen of every concert. By this, the audience can determine the value of the concert with independence. There are many cafes and bars nearby. But finding an improvisational audience is difficult. Improvisation is primordial practice and starting point of all expressions. It is should be open to more people. I hope that we always try to re-grab music from zero by each concert.

11. If you have to choose 3 favorite improvisation musicians, who will it be?

Tetuzi Akiyama John Tilbury John Coltrane

12. In the description I found about your album "R, R, R", it was mentioned that some of your guitar playing has the feeling of John Fahey. Do you agree with this statement? Has John Fahey's music influenced your listening and playing?

Of course, I listened to a lot of albums of John Fahey. But I’ve almost never copied his guitar. I am strongly influenced by what is called American Primitive, just like him. But I think I'm not the same lineage or context as him. I have big respect for traditional music but maybe I'm not interested in inheriting. It's not my role. As I said, I copied a lot of guitar from the 60's Rock group, Blues and Jazz music when I played electric guitar. But my acoustic guitar style is Almost self-taught.I've almost never copied someone's play except some Blues. Sometimes, I try to copy Morton Feldman's piano piece by guitar.

13. Are you more focused or relaxed when you play? Do you think there is a big gap between your performance and recording? In which state(relaxed or focused) do you prefer when making music?

To be honest, I want to relax and play. If I try to concentrate, the feeling runs away.

#article

1 note · View note

why-this-kolaveri-machi · 5 years ago

Text

you look pretty, too.

first off: spider-man: far from home is a lot of fun. much like the end of homecoming, it left me feeling warm and happy and already making plans to watch it another time. it doesn’t hang together quite as well or quite as coherently as homecoming, but it takes more risks and displays more ambition, and honestly, how could i not appreciate that?

far from home is absolutely FANTASTIC as another chapter in the mcu saga, much more so than any other film in the series (bar homecoming). it gives a great ground-level perspective on all the mind-bending cosmic shit that goes on in the other movies and does a fair bit of world-building. because it’s so interlocked so organically with a larger narrative, it serves to both bolster that larger vision and provide snide commentary on it. there are so many wonderful moments in this film that deal with the extremely bloated and extremely complicated legacy of iron man, and one gets the feeling that, even by the end of the film, spider-man hasn’t completely shaken off the spectre of tony stark.

maybe because far from home functions so well as an episode of the mcu, spider-man doesn’t get to own even his most heroic moments. there’s still nothing here that i can brand as Iconic on the scale of some of the most memorable shit from other entries in the franchise. it also means that there are so many extra-textual pressures from so many directions on this movie, that the writing often comes off as sloppy.

anyway. i have a veritable fucking dissertation brewing in my head right now, so let’s get right on it.

SPOILERS ahead. if you’re on a device/app that doesn’t recognise the ‘read more’ cut i’m about to insert here and don’t want to be spoiled on basically every aspect of the film, please scroll past as fast as you can.

1. sorry to start off with a bummer, but the premise of this movie is bullshit. i see no reason why this whole shebang couldn’t have been set in new york. there could’ve been more time to deal with endgame-aftermath, we could’ve had more aunt may (criminally underused both here and in homecoming), and peter’s emotional arc could’ve had more set-up. the european locales contribute nothing beyond being pretty backdrops; all of the vital players in the story are american; a lot of the jokes revolving around them being tourists just. don’t. land.

1.25. i appreciate the impulse to be Different given how many Spidermen have appeared on screen just in the last couple of decades, but the european setting is wholly incidental to the plot and wastes valuable time, so.

1.5. apparently a fair bit of footage setting up the vacation was cut so that we could get into the action faster? but honestly, regardless of pacing, the vacation could’ve used some set-up; the jump straight to the holiday was jarring, and i can’t help but feel some vital foreshadowing regarding peter’s spidey sense was sacrificed as collateral. that wonderful moment in the climactic fight when peter realises he can trust his spidey sense to work around mysterio’s illusions feels like the end-point of an arc that never began in the first place.

2. honestly, what a genius way to work in somebody as goofy as mysterio, tho!

2.25. *flails* ok. a little digression here, because my love for this character needs actual build-up, and the build-up needs to start with how much i disliked captain america: civil war. there’s an intriguing ideological conflict that’s set up at the core of the movie that never gets followed-up in any meaningful sense and ends in a facile little brawl between two sets of superheroes who, in any case, are way, way too close to the situation to give us any interesting insights about it. what the two spider-man movies have ended up doing, however, is giving us actual glimpses of the legacy of having superheroes at all instead of just talking about it. the vulture swooped in on the carnage left behind every battle between the avengers and civil war, selling alien tech to anybody who would pay for it, from small-time weapons dealers to desperate people looking to arm themselves in a world that experiences cataclysms every other week to shady-ass governments and secret agencies. a lot of silent and potentially catastrophic damage has already been inflicted by the time spider-man takes him down. similarly, mysterio zooms in during a particularly vulnerable time, playing a world both ravaged and rebuilt by ineffable cosmic forces to build himself up through fancy smoke-and-mirrors work. as always, mcu’s spider-man delights me over and over again with just how organically it both manages to feed off and enrich this larger universe it belongs to.

2.5. mysterio talking about how people these days tend to believe flying people in capes more than technology used in more traditional ways--about how people would believe anything these days--is a bit of snide commentary on the state of the mcu itself and perhaps the world in general. there are now more and more ways to construct narratives and bend lies into almost-truths. social media, ‘deepfakes’, clever editing: you can build yourself into whatever you want the world to see you as if you just have access to the right tools. and it isn’t just mysterio that’s indulging in deception here--so are the ‘good guys’. nick fury getting skrulls to impersonate him and other shield agents to handle missions on earth is a quieter, more insidious kind of unsettling. it’s a mode of deception that is so much more complete and effective than mysterio could ever dream of achieving: you are being lied to by your enemy, but perhaps it is the lies that are being told in the name of your protection that you must be truly wary of.

2.65. quentin beck walking around in a cgi suit while orchestrating and editing big, fake spectacles where a cgi-ed mysterio fights a cgi-ed monster? fucking. brilliant. i thought i would crawl out of my own skin with how fucking meta that was.

2.75. mysterio’s motivations aren’t entirely clear and his ‘toast’ to his team midway through the movie is one of the cheesiest infodumps i’ve seen on film, but jake gyllenhaal makes it all fucking work. there’s a seething, manic energy just bubbling under the surface, and he puts it to brilliant use. he had me totally sold on both his intent to kill peter dead and his grudging affection for the kid. few actors could’ve pulled this off like jake gylly.

3. aah, tony stark. we see iron man’s face multiple times through the movie, to the point where it’s less a tribute to the man and more a depiction of a spectre that’s haunting peter parker wherever he goes. he looms so large that honestly it seems like peter’s biggest battle here is fighting his legacy as iron man’s protege.

while ensemble films like civil war and the avengers movies were content to let the tony/peter mentor/mentee relationship play out without bothering to interrogate it at all, having tony stark so integral to this universe’s peter parker’s origin story is something the solo spider-man movies have to grapple with. there was always going to be tension between tony’s sweeping, big-picture perspective and peter’s focus on being a friendly, neighbourhood hero; between tony as a symbol of the corporate elite and peter being relatable to the everyday, common man; between iron man in his ivory tower and peter painstakingly cutting holes in a sweatshirt in an apartment in Queens. both of spidey’s supervillains so far are born out of tony’s actions--and not even through a deliberate misstep, like creating ultron or trusting secretary ross. they are born out of callous indifference--people who fell to the wayside as tony stark’s corporate behemoth pushed on, oblivious. both toomes’ and beck’s anger is justified, even if what they choose to do with that anger is not.

even when it comes to peter, tony is spot-on in his judgment of peter’s potential, sure, but there’s something awfully... glib in the way he thinks about peter’s life outside of being spider-man. bequeathing him EDITH is a shockingly irresponsible thing to do--and the decision nearly kills both peter and his friends multiple times! i know the saying goes, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, but as mature as peter is, i don’t think anybody ought to be solely responsible for controlling a super-advanced AI that can summon drones and engage an entire planetary defence system. it’s bonkers, and something i absolutely believe tony stark would do.

so, yes--both homecoming and far from home have no choice but to deal with iron man’s legacy, but they also do a good job in showing how complicated that legacy is. another thing that the solo movies have to contend with from the ensemble films is the clear love and respect tony and peter have for each other--if in civil war peter was utterly starstruck, by infinity war and endgame he’d begun to see tony as a father-figure. their relationship struck among the most resonant emotional chords in both movies, and it would have been near-impossible to have peter interrogate his relationship with his just-deceased mentor in the light of all of that. so while the actual movies complicate and darken tony’s legacy, peter never gets to acknowledge any part of it, which is a pity.

(having iron man appear as an actual zombie in peter’s trippy mysterio-induced vision was a great touch, tho: the words ‘next iron man’ followed him through the movie not as a privilege but as a noose cinching closer and closer around his neck)

3.5. all of this aside, tho, i do feel like something vital about spider-man was lost forever when, lost and hurting and alone, peter could summon a private jet and build himself a new suit in tony’s fancy 3d printer. i realised when i was watching this that i’d been expecting peter to fashion a plan entirely out of his own ingenuity and determination, but this peter... has all of stark industries on call.

4. tom holland’s peter is as charming as ever and i hope he gets to play him for as long as possible--it really does feel like peter’s still in the beginning stages of a very long and fruitful arc. here he’s traumatised and exhausted, pulled by the allure of avengers-level fame and pushed away by the burden and trauma that being an avenger truly entails. he’s wide-eyed and wholly likeable when he’s chilling with his friends or pining after mj, but his bone-deep exhaustion and grief and guilt shine through the cracks in his veneer at exactly the right moments. peter’s put through the wringer here, both emotionally and physically--and holland plays it all perfectly.

given how much is going on in this film, a surprising amount of time is devoted to peter and mj’s budding romance? and almost every second of it absolutely works?? their sweet, tentative kiss on the bridge after the climactic fight feels absolutely 100% earned, and i’m HERE to see them grow as a couple.

5. the fucking mid-credits scene, man. the entire theatre gasped as one, followed by excited chatter and scattered ‘oh my god’s as the end-credits rolled--i’ve never seen anything like it. this is an incredibly bold new direction for spider-man, and it hit me absolutely out of left-field. i can’t wait to see what happens next.

6. honestly, i could go on for longer, but i’m super-tired rn and need to re-organise my thoughts. ultimately far from home is a fascinating consequence of the burden of both extra and intra-textual legacies--funny, wild, and imaginative, but always aware that it can’t run too far away from all of its responsibilities.

#mcu #spiderman #spiderman far from home #far from home spoilers #SPOILERS #peter parker #quentin beck #mysterio #tony stark #this kid is So Important #meta

33 notes · View notes