#update: its been less than half an hour since posting this and i saw a 16 year old talking about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 8 years ago

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WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2016 75 days until I call Stacey. I decided to just see what happens and then make a decision based on how I feel at the time. Just because someone puts out clear and obvious signals doesn’t mean they plan to act on them or become a home-wrecker. Getting together every now and then wouldn’t be “wrecking” anything as long as nothing “serious” happened, though I still think if I see her again it’ll be at her office.

A couple of mornings ago at 8:30, right as I was getting ready to crash, I saw Bob come out with a ladder in front of his place, presumably to trim trees. I was surprised (and a bit worried) since it was only 39° out. He didn’t wake me up, though.

Looking forward to finally receiving my bath bombs tomorrow, which accidentally got sent to the wrong place. These are supposed to be the size of tennis balls instead of golf balls.

Decided I just wasn’t all that into my voice blog so I made it a text blog. I’m not going to post daily entries there, but just use it as another place to store my yearly life updates instead.

I dreamed that Jesse owned a large rooming house in which we were renting a room. Tom was sitting on either a bed or a couch watching TV when I stepped up to the room’s only window and looked down from the upper floor we were on. Jesse lived next door and parked between the buildings.

“Only that black car is down there with its ass sticking up,” I said to Tom, referring to how the back of the car stuck up in the air.

“I want to go visit my old room next door,” I then said, and headed into a small dark room with bunk beds. I sat on the bottom bunk and remembered that the last time we were there, things were rough for us and I was miserably depressed. I remember how I sat on the bed crying for hours at a time.

My bean/veggie diet has totally lost its magic as far as keeping the hunger away. I had half a bag of veggies, 3 slices of cinnamon bread, a cup of rice, a bowl of soup, and a bag of Cheetos, yet I’m STILL hungry! :( If this is PMS can I just get my fucking period now? It’s horrible. I just CANNOT get rid of my hunger no matter how much I eat.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2016 Burke’s lucky he’s a good rat because if he was anything less than that I would have just beaten the shit out of him. I let him out and he was super wound up and playful and he nipped the shit out of my pinky. His teeth sliced the side of it and it took me a few minutes to stop the bleeding. I had to sneak into Tom’s bathroom to get a Band-Aid. Good thing he’s a heavy sleeper. The fucking thing is stinging like hell now.

The kitchen floor tiles arrived today and are absolutely beautiful. You never can really know for sure when you’re looking at a picture of something on a computer. I hope the laundry room tiles will look just as nice when they arrive.

Had some spotting. :-( That explains why I had light cramps earlier. Tom even thinks I look a little watery.

As I learned, if it’s too good to be true, it’s not true. I gained one of the 4 pounds back that I lost, though I figured I would sooner or later, and soon I might have another period. Let me guess… nothing’s going to happen with Stacey either, even if more than a part of me agrees it would be much easier if it didn’t.

The weather’s been horribly cold and it could freeze tonight. The outer corners of the living room get warmer in the summer and colder in the winter. My desk is in one of those corners, and so I pulled out the old portable heater we got up in Oregon to bring extra warmth to that area. We have an even older one that we got in the 90s in Arizona, but that one’s going out with the next bulk trash pickup.

The Twenties’ place looks really nice with all their bright colorful Christmas lights. I still say it’s a little early, though. I mean come on, it’s not even December yet. Even so, I’d like to be out admiring the different lights, yet it’s way too cold to be working out outdoors.

Signed up on Blogger for AdSense, but I don’t think I’ll really make any money with it. Not as many people know about my blog there, and Blogger’s pretty dead, so we’ll see. It’s not fully set up yet.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2016 Damn the person(s) responsible for inventing religion and brainwashing people with the God fantasy. Yeah, another Muslim refugee we so stupidly allowed into this country because it’s “politically correct” and we must, must, must have a bleeding heart for despite their unworthiness it, tried to go on a killing spree at OSU. Well, my damn good cyber friend Christine works there and I can just imagine how terrified she must have been!

As long as this country is going to remain too stupid and too ignorant to the fact that yes, some groups of people truly are more dangerous, delusional and irrational than others just like with some groups of animals, then we’re going to continue to put ourselves in danger by allowing these little fucks to terrorize us.

So obsessed with political correctness are people that they have lost all traces of common sense. Pretty sad if you ask me. What’s next? Lavishing all the love in the world on rapists and child molesters? Will it soon be politically incorrect to point out how dangerous they are as well? Will we be considered “haters” for bashing those perverts?

Man, I’m just so sick of some people’s shit in this world. People who think they were born to kill in the name of an imaginary God that doesn’t even exist. People who feel they need to use their race against others no matter how many lives they ruin in the process. People who enable, allow and encourage these people to wreak the havoc on society that they do.

Just wondering how many more people have to die or come close to it before something is done to keep these savage beasts out of this country. These people are taught to go out and kill as many people as they can that isn’t a carbon copy of themselves as soon as they’re old enough to understand. Is this what we really want to be “politically correct” over and invite into our country?

Let them kill each other instead, and if their cities are no longer habitable after they get done, that should be their problem and not ours. Why should we be responsible for picking up the pieces of death and destruction? It’s like being made to pick up the pieces of a puzzle that some spoiled brat got frustrated with and flung all over the floor. Let those who make their own damn beds lie in them!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2016 Incredibly, I’m still losing weight. I’ve now lost 4.2 pounds since the first. That’s HUGE for an older woman with Hashimoto’s. It’s going very slowly, but what’s the hurry anyway? Losing 1-2 pounds a week is reasonable. I just wish my medication wasn’t dampening some of the excitement, but I intend to discuss it with Dr. A next month.

Tom dyed my hair yesterday and this time we used a much cheaper dye. L’Oreal’s Colorsilk. It’s a little lighter and I don’t expect it to last as long as John Freida’s, but I like it better because it doesn’t stink nearly as bad and my hair doesn’t feel as fried.

So while our robot is the designated vacuum-er, and I’m the designated floor mopper, Tom is the designated carpet cleaner. It took two hours to do our giant living room, but he cleaned until he ran out of cleaning solution. It takes forever but it’s worth it since it’s something he’ll only do every six months or so. The carpet he’s done looks brand new.

All that’s left is the dining room, hallway and bedrooms. The filthiest spots are definitely by the computers, the rats’ cage, the front door, and the section of hallway between the kitchen and laundry room.

It’s been raining all day and night, and I heard one of my older, bigger wind chimes fall down in the carport. I think we got that one after we moved here, but what’s amazing is the medium-sized one in front that sounds the best. I’ve had this one for about a dozen years now and it’s still going strong!!!

Later…

And now I’m down 4.4 pounds! I went from 154.4 to 150.0. Now if only my hip and ear would stop driving me crazy!

We took our cactus plant out of the small pot it was in and replanted it in a large pot that was left here.

The four days he had off were both productive and relaxing.

It was mostly sunny all day but now it’s raining again. I can’t believe all the rain we’ve gotten so far this year. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go out walking. It’s too cold now anyway.

I was bad again, messing with Kim and Aly on NaNoWriMo after Aly changed links there. Sometimes you just gotta have a little fun, I guess. Found her by searching “Nebraska” and “nanny.” Her location and part of her bio. Kind of funny how dumb she is at times, but maybe she wants to be found. I used to notice in the past how she’d made herself rather obvious when changing names to avoid Molly. If not, every genius is entitled to a blond moment here and there. :-)

Pretty funny how Aly is afraid of Kim. When she pisses her off by leaving her hanging, she’s afraid to confront her directly and risk getting her ass dumped and then stalked shitless for years, so she dances around the subject in an indirect tweet about how rude she is.

Sadly, however, I doubt Kim will dump her given how long they’ve been friends now. I also get the feeling that they don’t have anyone else, so being the perfect twisted match that they are, I just can’t see them dumping on each other as much as I wish they would. Seriously… if Aly’s my karma for dumping Andy, then who’s her karma for dumping me? Oh, wait! It’s perfectly okay to dump me or wrong me in any way. I forget at times that people are exempt when it comes to me.

Had some very weird, long, detailed and negative dreams. In one dream I was in some crackhouse for some reason. I was excitedly trying to tell this girl in her 20s (Hispanic?) about how I tried Atkins, Nutrisystem, and other diets just to get nowhere until I went vegan.

The girl, clearly very pregnant, didn’t appear to be paying attention to me as another girl injected her with some drug.

That’s when I told myself not to bother with her. She was too young for a friend, too fucked up, and she was an obvious druggie. Plus I didn’t want to be friends with anyone with babies or toddlers.

I turned to leave, apparently on an upper floor. I walked down a long narrow hallway, heading for the stairs, just as a black cop came up the stairs and passed me.

“There are a lot of druggies in there,” I told him.

He started to enter one of the rooms.

“No, the next room,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, backing out of it as I hurried downstairs and out of the old dilapidated house. I crossed the lawn and hoped that no one would consider me a snitch and want to kill me for it.

In the next dream, I might have been talking to my mother. I entered a restaurant and approached what seemed like an older woman that I’m pretty sure was her, sitting at the counter on the stool. I had been accused of murdering some girl. I don’t know if I was just a suspect in an investigation, or if I was out on bail.

“Don’t ask me any questions,” my mother said sharply as soon as I approached her.

This really pissed me off and I stormed out of the restaurant and off to I’m not sure where. Wherever I went, I threw an ashtray full of cigarette butts on the floor. I then picked up the mess moments later.

Next, I returned to the restaurant where my mother was now sitting at a small table for two. I sat down across from her and insisted that I had nothing to do with killing the girl.

“When I was charged with prank phone calls, I was guilty of that. But I have nothing to do with this case. I don’t know this girl. I’ve never seen her. I’ve never talked to her and I have no idea who killed her.”

I turned away for a second and when I looked back at my mother she had tears in her eyes. “My God,” she said, “you really are innocent.”

Then I asked her if she was surprised about how she ended up back with my father, not that they ever separated in real life, of course.

The dream ended with one of us saying something about playing amateur sleuth and trying to find the real killer.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2016 The weather has turned cold and wintry. The afternoons usually aren’t that bad, but today it was one of those days where it just never warmed up. I’m just so glad it doesn’t snow here, though it wouldn’t be impossible. I’m in my one-piece fleece pajamas. This weather is ideal for sleeping, working out and keeping the motorcycles at bay, but I do miss the warmth.

I probably won’t be running outdoors much for the next few months and will just use the skier inside instead. Plus I still have my hip injury that doesn’t seem to want to heal.

My new gold chain fashion belt arrived and fits well, though it’s surprisingly heavy. I also got my black shirt with the cutout ¾ sleeves and it fits well, too.

Got some things done around the house today. Tom cleaned the carpet around my desk before I got up. The thing works great and it only takes a couple of hours to dry. He said the water was clear when he was doing sections along the wall, but under my chair it was black. I don’t doubt it. I’ve spilled some food and drink over the last 2.5 years.

We asked Alexa what her daily deals were, and Tom was strong enough to say “no” to the white chocolate truffles and the 5-pound Hershey’s candy bar. A 5-pound candy bar… that’s disgusting. Delicious but disgusting. No wonder there’s so much obesity in this country, haha.

I’m still losing weight since going vegan, but very slowly. I’m going to see if I can eventually coax him into the same health kick I’ve been on.

I started dusting cobwebs off the ceilings, which was raining popcorn all over the place. Damn these popcorn ceilings! I miss smoothies.

I did the laundry and switched out the light blanket for the down comforter. Hopefully, it won’t give me the hot flashes from hell, but if it does I’ll just switch back.

I’ve got about 17 more days to my appointment and to hope I don’t get a period. That’ll make 3 months!

I have felt so good physically and emotionally and I absolutely refuse to let the doctor give me any more meds no matter what the numbers end up saying.

The year was off to a shaky start, but I think that 2016 has been one of the best years of our lives.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2016 Another Thanksgiving with nowhere to go. A part of me is sad about that, but it is what it is. I just wonder if Marjorie ever thinks about the son she dumped who was too “needy” and too far away to be worth bothering with. That a mother could cast aside her own son seemingly without a shred of guilt after all he did for her when we lived near her is just abominable. Just totally and utterly appalling. I don’t doubt for a minute that she’s as guiltless as a rock on the beach or else she would have Mary and Dave contact us if she couldn’t do it herself.

Her choice. Her loss.

I had a dream I was at Tammy’s, and Lisa was there. First I hugged Sarah and then I guess I was smoking again because I lit a cigarette. Then someone gave me a letter Lisa had written for me. I suspected she wanted to play kiss and makeup by the way she looked at me from across the room.

I began walking through another room and she was suddenly walking alongside me. I pretended not to notice her because I didn’t want to consider talking to her until I read the letter. I noticed she appeared to be slim.

In reality, I don’t want anything to do with her any more than I want anything to do with aunts, uncles, and cousins I’m not connected to on Facebook. Once you’re out of my life, no matter if I dumped you or you’re the one who dumped me, that’s the way it stays. Period. Almost every time I’ve given people a second chance it’s backfired on me and I only end up kicking myself for it and wishing I never bothered.

I realize I’m pretty normal being as unforgiving as I am. I hear people preach about forgiveness all the time yet I don’t see them putting their actions where their mouths are very often. Well, “normal” or a genuine ice princess, I am the way I am with zero apologies, and I do what works best for me.

Life is still great otherwise. :-) We’re having a nice relaxing day and enjoying a break from our regular responsibilities. It’s nice to be lazy every now and then and just do what we want and nothing that we absolutely have to do.

We tried out the carpet cleaner by doing just a square patch of carpet in front of the rats’ cage and it looks beautiful. I was worried at first that the cleaning solution would smell too chemical-like, but it actually smells good. It’s amazing how much dirt came out of that one section. That’s why the next place is going to have mostly floors in which we’ll just get a robot mop like we have a robot vacuum.

Although I don’t expect to hear any landscaping today, I do expect to hear a lot of car door slamming. You know my neighbors can never go anywhere for the holidays and that everybody has to come to them. I hope I sleep through Christmas!

As expected, the assholes turned our water off for an hour yesterday.

We got a ton of packages yesterday. The strapless bra and the tank tops fit great, but the skirt, as gorgeous as it is, is way too long. I will have to wear it as a tube dress, which it says you can do.

That was a hell of a deal on the tanks. I thought they might be thin flimsy crap for the price, but nope. You can wear them to bed or you could wear them outdoors. I love all the colors, too. A dozen good-quality tank tops for $23 is a sweet deal.

Really loving shopping for groceries online. The Walmart site is slow but simple. It’s very easy to use. I just wish they would add nutrition labels to the products. I love how it keeps track of what we’ve ordered so I can kick things out of the ‘favorites’ that I try and decide I don’t like.

They gave us a goody bag with some nice samples. I didn’t care for the snacks (thank goodness for rats and husbands, LOL), but I like the Crest tooth whitening strips, the L’Oreal hair system samples, and the full-size tube of Vaseline lotion. Figures I just had to go and buy lotion right before I got this, haha, but I can never have too much. It will all eventually get used.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2016 I think I’ll just bullet today’s entry.

I had 1600 cals yesterday so my weight is the same… 150.6.

The LUX light is a complete waste of money.

Two days ago I had a strange stomach flu for 4-5 hours. It started with sharp cramps in my upper stomach. Then I had intermittent nausea.

Slept better last night but that could be because I took a lorazepam for the first time in a while after being up 18 hours.

I don’t remember a single dream.

UPS arrived at 9:30 with our carpet cleaner, goodies for Tom, and a few goodies for me.

Jasmine and her blonde buddy look great in their new pants and tops.

I now have a nice clean glass dish for my wax fragrance warmer. A tiny hole burned through the center of the other one as it got old and yucky, dribbling wax onto the bulb.

My early birthday present from Tom, a glass rainbow wind chime, is gorgeous and I love the sound of it. Now we just need some wind to go with it.

My new dress (black with a jagged chiffon hemline) is more like a tunic and looks great with my blue tights.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2016 Stacey. Losing weight. Possibly being done with periods. Help with my sleep disorder.

Is it just me or do things seem a little too good to be true lately? I’ve now lost 4 pounds, though I’m kind of doubtful about the light therapy.

I slept horribly, constantly waking up, and I’ve decided to take a few days off from the new allergy nasal spray I started to make sure that that’s not affecting my sleep in any way. I doubt it is, though. I seem to be having longer, more detailed dreams, too.

I’m going to give it a little more time, but the light therapy seems like it’s going to be a bust since I got up 1.5 hours later today, which is typical. One of the times I woke up I didn’t think I would be able to fall back asleep, so maybe I would have gotten up sooner had I slept better.

I had a two-part dream that took place at Valleyhead, even though the place looked different. Several students and even that evil Donna were there. At first everybody slept on double beds (two to a bed) in a large dorm.

One of the girls complained to Donna that they were unable to sleep with their assigned bedmates because they kept them up all night.

“You’re going to have to find two people who would be able to sleep with each other and take one of their places,” I said, not caring what Donna thought of my suggestion.

In the next scene, I was going through my clothes and realized that I needed to do laundry because I was running out of underwear. Yet every time I thought I found the opportunity to do it, something would come up, keeping me so busy I barely had time to breathe.

I woke up for a while and then when I fell back asleep I was able to get that laundry done, LOL, that I was scrambling to do in the previous dream. The laundry room was downstairs in the basement. There were three washers on one wall and three dryers on another wall. I had been waiting for a machine to become available before I realized that I was waiting for nothing because it was a dryer when I needed a washer.

Then I went upstairs and I was moving some things out of one room and into another (I guess now we were in rooms instead of dorms). As some girl was leaving the room I was moving things into, I explained to her that I wanted to put the stuff there because I would probably be in that room soon enough.

She smiled and said that was exciting.

Then on another day within the same dream, I fell asleep intending to take a short nap, but ended up sleeping all day and didn’t get up until 3 PM. I realized I would need to go to sleep when “school” started in the morning, and I awoke from the dream as I was trying to decide if I should attend class or just skip it and hope they didn’t notice my absence.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2016 “HA! HA! HA! HA!” said the ducks at the lake when I passed by the adorable Chihuahua in the pink frilly coat.

I was only out for 15 minutes because my hands froze. I don’t know why I didn’t take my gloves. It’s cold and foggy out there. I’ll make up the remaining 15 minutes on the skier.

For a few minutes after returning indoors, my left hand did this strange vibration that wasn’t visible but that I could feel. I can imagine my reaction to that one if I were on a little more levothyroxine and hadn’t been EMDRd.

Unfortunately, the kind of drug I’m on has me as worried about losing weight as I am excited. The difference between being beneficial and helpful versus being tormented both physically and emotionally is just a few micrograms and probably only a 20-pound loss in my case because I’m short. As he assured me, however, they test my levels often enough that I should have plenty of warning if I’m heading to a bad place.

I see Dr. A on the 13th. Hopefully, I will be able to tell her that my last period was right before I last saw her three months ago. Yes, I’m breaking records and I could very well be done with that. It’s still too soon to say for sure whether or not I will once again visit Bleederville, but either way, how many more periods could I possibly have?

Oh, great. Now the scammers know about my Gmail address and are spamming the shit out of that account in addition to my Hotmail and mail.com accounts. Makes me wonder if anyone I know is behind it. Would anyone really take the time to sign someone up for a bunch of shit or give their address to these shitsters?

He doesn’t think anyone I know is behind it. As he said, all it takes is one site being hacked.

The full-spectrum light therapy is off to a good start. Maybe a little too good, although the nightmare I had is why I woke up a little early. It’s way too soon to know for sure. There have been times when I would get up at the same time for three or four days in a row. If I were able to get up at the same time for a whole week, then I would think yeah, maybe we were onto something here. I might not use it for a few days if that’s the case because 4 AM is a little earlier than I would like to be getting up at. 6 AM is more reasonable. I would prefer to sleep 10 PM to 6 AM rather than 8 PM to 4 AM. I just got an early head start because I ran out of patience waiting to try it.

The one and only thing I would hate if I were always on days would be having to listen to landscaping and traffic every single day unless it was raining. The rain doesn’t always save me from that shit either.

I’m also going to hit the Bowflex and clean both bedrooms and bathrooms today. I did the laundry room last night. Tomorrow I’ll do the kitchen, dining and living room.

I got a brush made for ceiling fans when we were at Lowe’s.

We saw some robotic fish while we were at Target and joked about throwing them in the pool. That would really make the old folks wonder just how senile they were getting!

We decided to go ahead and do our huge Amazon order now rather than wait until early next month. This way we avoid the holiday rush.

He got several electronic parts/gadgets, plus I ordered a couple of boxes of the protein cookies I’ve been having on this diet in a couple of flavors I haven’t tried yet… peanut butter and birthday cake.

We got the flooring tiles and the carpet cleaner, plus I ordered a replacement dish for my wax fragrance warmer, and a new hammock/tent for the rats.

For fun things, I have about 10 things on the way, one of which is coming today. That would be my black dress with an asymmetrical hem. I will also be receiving the following list:

A glass rainbow wind chime

A rainbow sweatshirt

A beige strapless bra

A 12-pack of tank tops, each in a different color

A black long-sleeve shirt in which part of the sleeve is cut out

A gold chain belt

A floral skirt with a feather on the end of a ribbon

An assortment of 10 different bath bombs

Two tops and two pairs of pants for my 18” dolls.

In last night’s nightmare, I dreamed I was staying in some cabin in the woods with three or four other people. I guess there was a main cabin that we all met up in, but we would sleep in individual cabins that were nearby. Word was out that a killer was on the loose. On our first night there, one woman who seemed fairly youngish was a little worried about heading to her cabin alone. I told her I would watch her from the door. Her cabin was about 100 feet away, but by the time she got barely 50 feet away, a man jumped out of the shadows and started stabbing her. I opened my mouth to scream for help and for someone to call the cops, but no sound would come out as I awoke.

In another dream, my sister called to tell me she won a karaoke contest. LOL, no chance. She hates to sing. I used to win these things in the early 90s. Too bad I hadn’t yet quit smoking as I probably could have won even more.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2016 Those brown butter rum cookies were so good! Amazingly, I didn’t go up the pound I expected to go up taking a day off from my diet like I did. Instead, I went up just 2/10 of a pound. Been back on track today and didn’t get any treats at the store.

I began light therapy this morning even though I’m still getting up pretty early, and even though I don’t see how a simple light could help much. But I’ve been surprised in the past and so we’ll see if I’m surprised again.

The cheap shiny silver faucet I stupidly picked out for the master bathroom not long after we moved in here sprung a leak yesterday. A part of me is glad because no matter how much I would clean the damn thing, it would always have these white spots on it. So this morning we went to Lowe’s and I picked out a less shiny nickel-finished faucet that’s quite beautiful. It doesn’t have a single lever but it’s very stylish, way better quality, and it goes well in there. This faucet is a little higher and that should make rinsing my mouth when brushing my teeth easier. It cost $100.

Some other time we’ll replace the drain. The drains in both the sinks look kind of old and gross.

Our second stop was at Target to use a coupon for $5 off $25 worth of stuff. However, there was a hidden catch and the stuff we got didn’t qualify. As he said, this is why we don’t get their rewards card; because there are always hidden catches that weren’t advertised. I do like their store, though. They have a good selection, and for once the store was pretty dead, so we got to shop in peace.

I got a couple of necklaces that are unique to anything I’ve ever had before. One is a 3 in 1 where it has 3 gold chains of different lengths, each with a different color gemstone. The smallest one on top is clear. The medium-sized one in the middle is magenta, and then the largest one on the bottom is what I would describe as “cloudy” pink.

The other necklace is a very long strand of blue beads with little tassels on the ends. You can either wear it as a scarf or tie it in a knot in front.

Grabbed a bag of Birthday Cake bath bombs, and the cutest, most comfortable pair of slippers I ever had. Pretty sure they’re girls’ slippers. They’re pink and blue furry slippers with a scattering of shiny firs and they go a few inches above the ankles. I kind of wish I had boots like these. Initially I wanted something convenient that I could quickly step in and out of, but when I saw these I said screw convenience. They were just too adorable to pass up.

They did a good job with the groceries that we ordered online and we’re thinking this is what we’ll probably do for the most part. There was only one thing missing that they substituted for.

I’m going to order some of the protein cookies that I’ve been having online because it’s cheaper that way. Meanwhile… no meat until after the labs at the beginning of next month.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 2016 I’ve been alive for 18,600 days. That’s what Alexa just told me. She also told me that there are 87 days until Valentine’s Day. I can’t wait! thinks of Stacey and smiles

So now the Trumpster is whining about his sidekick getting booed, and demanding an apology. Oh, but he has no apology for the women he sexually abused, right? Seriously if these two can’t handle those who can’t stand them, then why don’t they just resign?

This cold rainy day is passing too slowly. This is the last Saturday in a while that DH should have to work. He should be home around 1:00. We ordered groceries from Walmart for the first time and he will be picking them up on the way home.

I’ve lost 3 pounds since turning 80% of my diet into vegetables. I have pretty much cut out meat completely, but not for forever. Forever is just too long. I’m sure I’ll have both meat and sweets on weekends. It’s just too close to lab time for me to be having any cholesterol right now. I’m not even eating fish, which doesn’t have as much cholesterol as beef does.

My sweet treat this weekend is going to be something new to try that I stumbled upon while shopping… Pepperidge Farm brown butter rum cookies.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2016 Was today another noisy day? Well, of course it was. Landscaping here, landscaping there… landscaping everywhere, every single fucking day.

I kind of wish it was bedtime now because I’m bored. I’m at that point in my day where I’m no longer awake enough to do anything productive, but I’m not tired enough to fall asleep yet either.

Instead, I’m sitting here wondering why my joints are so stiff. This time it’s my other hip and I have a little stiffness in my lower right back.

I’m also sitting here thinking of how it’s almost always been me that initiated friendships and relationships and even just casual conversations be it online or offline, and how that gets to me at times. It just bothers me that not as many people have cared to seek me out as much as I cared to seek them, even if it’s just to say hello.

But then I realized that hey, maybe this is just the one way I was meant to be a leader in life. For some reason, I have been “designated” to be the one to make the first move, even if I don’t always get very far. I’m not sure I like that any more than I like the idea of being a follower. I’ve never had any desire to be a leader in life or a follower, though I’ve been forced to be a follower many times by circumstances beyond my control.

Seriously, I was obviously meant to be a real leader in this way for whatever reason, plus I also realize that not everybody cares enough to remember names like I do, nor do they have the ability to if they did. Furthermore, they probably don’t have nearly 30 year’s worth of journals to refer to for any names they might have forgotten.

Either way, if patterns hold true to themselves then I should never hear from Stacey again unless I contact her. My head says not to bother but my heart is curious. I can’t believe even a friendship would come of it but there’s still a part of me that feels it’s hard to believe it wouldn’t. Not that she would intentionally do any such thing, but I’ve been led on by women before, so this is why I’m hesitant to bother with her. Again, not that it’s her intention to lead me on, but women have gotten my hopes up in ways that men never have, for even just a friendship. Then again, I don’t know if I can fairly make that comparison when I haven’t been interested in very many men in my life.

I just wish I knew what she was open to. Does she have any particular hopes for us? I will admit that a part of me, even if it’s a very small part, has sometimes wished for a woman on the side to spice things up and add variety to my life. It isn’t that my life is bad or that I feel I’m missing anything; but more like me being open to any fun and interesting additions.

But just how open am I really to anything more than friendship? That’s the one thing I’m not sure of, and I guess no one ever is unless they’re actually in that situation and have to make a choice.

I’m guessing that the only thing she would be open to is meeting in her office, and I would certainly be okay with that if I knew for sure that she didn’t have anything else in mind, and I’m still guessing that while she gave me every indication to believe that she’s attracted to me (no, I definitely didn’t imagine that), she would remain professional. If even friendship is forbidden between a counselor and a former patient, I just can’t believe she would risk her license and career even if she may be coming to the end of it, just because someone might have noticed her in a way she probably hasn’t been noticed for years. Would I really be worth it to her?

If only I knew what she wanted because then I would be willing to work with that as long as she didn’t have any ridiculous expectations in mind, and again, I just can’t imagine her of all people wanting more than I could give, let alone wanting what I could give.

Only time will tell for sure as things play themselves out over the upcoming months, years… whatever. For now, I can just guess that if I ever do see her again it will be in her office.

When I call her on Valentine’s Day, because I know she’s not going to call me first, I was thinking I might let her know that I miss her and see if she suggests I come to see her. I thought I would also see if she was open to texting or email.

So yeah, I’ll “lead” the way by calling Stacey and being told that I’m welcome to come and see her, but that text or email is not an option, even though she seemed quite pleased when I gave her my contact info, and even though she was clearly attracted to me.

I suppose I shouldn’t think that negatively. After all, I never would have believed that someone like her would be attracted to me in the first place, yet she is. I just don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing, even though it’s not like I’m going to ball my eyes out if things don’t go my way. I’m not the person I was 15 years ago when Johnson fucked with my head. But why invest the time?

If I see Stacey, great. If not, I will always appreciate the help she gave me and I will always have her memories to cherish.

I think it’s her not going to my blog, and her asking if I would be okay with not meeting a certain woman that’s got me thinking a little negatively.

Foolish or not, though, I am thinking positively more than I’m thinking negatively where she’s concerned because she gave off more positive signs than negative signs.

I just wish I knew if she’s got it in mind to call me after a certain amount of time has gone by, or if she’s hoping that I’m the one to make the first move.

Well… I’m 99.9% sure that I’m going to be making that first move.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2016 I’ve been hearing less and less from Tammy but I understand that she is no doubt excited to catch up on things she hasn’t been able to do now that she’s got more energy since being stented, and is breathing easier since quitting smoking. She does still have fibromyalgia, though, and invited me to a Facebook group she created, even though I’m rarely on Facebook these days, and don’t know how I could possibly contribute other than to send my love and well wishes.

I don’t have chronic pain throughout my body; just in my left hip and my ear that isn’t really my ear, and it’s not quite “chronic.” I do get some days off. I just think it’s rather sad, as I told her, that it took 3 doctors in 12 years to finally be told what it is. It’s jaw joint arthritis, which was probably caused by my ear surgery. I can’t swear that I wouldn’t have it had I not had surgery, but I have a feeling I wouldn’t. The more I looked up the symptoms, the more I think my ENT is right on with the diagnosis she gave me. Funny because the last two EMTs were males. Yet Trump thinks males are smarter? Who the hell does he think he’s kidding? I’ve always known women were the smarter gender. This doesn’t mean there aren’t smart guys out there – my hubby is probably smarter than 98% of the population – and that there aren’t any stupid women in this world, but I think that women are smarter in general. Anyway, it’s called Temporomandibular Joint Disorders (TMJ and TMD).

They say that understanding something helps us to deal with it better, but I’m not sure in this case. I think all it does is settle my curiosity. They can’t fix this any more than they can cure my circadian rhythm disorder, so my knowing and understanding don’t change anything.

I was chatting on Yelp with this poor girl named Kristi in Woodland who was asking me about my old endocrinologist. She’s having the exact same symptoms I am and I assured her that my old endo is definitely the one to go to. Being older she’s had more experience, and she’s very understanding and knowledgeable. She understands that you can’t look at just the numbers and assume that every patient’s ideal numbers are going to be within their standard reference range. She’s super nice, too. A little stern at times, but nice. I told her of the symptoms I had and how frustrating it was with my old team of doctors at the old medical group telling me, “Oh, you’re just anxious,” when I knew it wasn’t normal for me to have my heart feel like it was going to jump out of my chest. So… I feel for her. I really do. I know how horrible and downright scary it can be. Just don’t expect to recover for a few months, I reminded her, since levothyroxine isn’t like aspirin where it leaves the body after a matter of hours.

It’s a very chilly 38° out now and I’m really hoping today is quieter than yesterday. First I had to hear landscaping at the house diagonally from us, then Bob broke out his blower, and then the park came by with their insanely loud blower, and I’m like, “Can we please stop it already?!”

At least it’s too cold for the motorcycles.

I don’t remember much of what happened, and the dreams only seemed to last for a second or two, but Stacey appeared in a record-breaking three or four dreams. I know we’re supposed to dream about things that are on our minds, but I’ve thought of her pretty much every day since last summer, yet this is the first time she showed up in my dreams this much. Although none of the dreams seemed to be negative in any way – if anything one of them might have been rather explicit – I don’t get the feeling that they mean anything. In other words, I don’t think they’re a sign of anything in particular to come.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2016 Although I’m keeping my Facebook account, I’m only checking in for messages once a week because I’m sick and fucking tired of nothing but political rants. No matter what side of the coin you’re on, too much is too much, and I’ve definitely had enough. Every day I tune in to hear about people and subjects that are beyond old and I’m tired of it. But people have a right to post what they want.

Even if people post a good mix of variety on Facebook, I prefer other social sites where I have more control over my privacy and can interact with people privately if I choose to do so. If I don’t want a certain Facebook friend knowing I’ve been there, I can’t comment on another friend’s post without it being waved in front of their faces.

My blog posts will still be shared there, which I don’t have to do from Facebook, and I let Tammy know that she should email me if anything important happens with her or the girls, as when I check in for messages I’m not going to be combing the newsfeed. Politics, religion, racism, Bill G… I’ve had enough.

The park not only had our water off again (I knew it was due to be shut off anytime now) but they also never warned us ahead of time like they did the last few times. I hope the office was bombarded with calls and messages from people complaining! I wonder when people are going to get so fed up that they demand space rent cuts. Over $800 a month for this shit? Come on! Actually, it’s over a grand when you add in trash pickup and shit like that.

I slept through the water shutoff, but I knew the water had been off when I got up and used the toilet cuz it “farted.” Poor Tom, though. It was off when he got home at 5:30 and it was still off when he went to bed at 7:45.

I’m now 8 hours away from trying the circadian light.

We’ve changed our mind as far as going with solid white in the kitchen. It would just look too stark in comparison with the maple cabinets. More than likely it will be flower power all the way with each section having a neutral color with some kind of flower design on it.

I was going to throw in some watercolor paints and a watercolor pad in the next Amazon order we’re planning, but then said, nah. I’m just not into being artistic in that kind of way anymore.

Last night I dreamed there was either a warrant out for my arrest or I was going to be charged with something (I don’t know what) and my brother was alive and either working for the police department or someone connected to it. I was talking to him on the phone and he was somehow going to take care of things for me by having someone pick me up that he knew.

I waited in this strange house with a cluttered living room and old dingy-looking kitchen, but whoever was supposed to pick me up never arrived. I called and told Tom I was tired of waiting and that I didn’t give a shit if there was a warrant out for my arrest or not at that point.

I then stepped out the back door of the house which was off the kitchen and began what I knew would be a long walk to some office.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2016 I laughed when Tom told me he thought we should get roller skates to use around the park until the thought of using them on this hilly terrain changed his mind. He couldn’t even walk in the snow and ice in Oregon without falling on his ass, so how does he expect to be able to roller-skate? He’s right, though. This terrain is too hilly even for those of us who can actually skate.

We went out walking late last night. I didn’t think the moon looked that much bigger than usual, but it was definitely bright. Of all the places I’ve lived, the moon looked the biggest in the desert.

The yellow African daisies just outside the front door are blooming nicely now. strange time of year for them to come to life, but I guess they thrive in the cooler temperatures.

It was pretty cold on our walk last night, down in the 40s. I had my hoodie on as well as a scarf and knit gloves. It’s supposed to rain today and then by Friday night get down into the 30s. Ugh.

We’ve now got a pretty good idea of what tile designs we’re getting. Tom said he would go with white in the kitchen and at first I thought white would look too sterile, almost like in a hospital. But compared to my surprisingly few other choices, I think white would be our best bet for that room.

I’ve chosen beige tiles with small pink flowers and their centers for the laundry/bath areas. Really wish we could see what they’d look like in the rooms, but even if I printed pictures out, the colors we see online aren’t always true.

One of the things they voted on in California was to stop using thin plastic grocery bags. They’ve gone to thicker plastic bags that are reusable and that cost a dime each if you decide to keep getting new ones. I figured that we might as well make it more fun and colorful, and so I picked out a 9-piece set of grocery totes on Amazon, each one being a different color.

Not that I’m complaining, but where are all the motorcycles? Even before it cooled down I noticed that I haven’t been hearing any.

Here’s something that’s probably meaningless but a little strange just the same. About a week or two ago, I heard this strange creaking sound late at night. At first I thought it was Tom’s chair, which creaks when he moves. But he was asleep and this particular creaking sound was consistent in volume, pitch and length of time.

Then one day I was standing in the kitchen waiting for my coffee to finish brewing. As I slowly shifted my weight back and forth I noticed the exact same sound. It was then that I remembered Andy, who insisted he was just as psychic with ghosts as I am at times with dream premonitions, told me that the spirit of the guy who used to live here was present.

Hmm… interesting. Still not sure I believe in ghosts, especially since I’ve never actually seen one, despite some signs suggesting that our land in Arizona was haunted. I’ve never had the feeling that this place is haunted, but it was a weird coincidence. If Andy was right, what does the guy do… walk around the kitchen late at night on occasion?

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2016 I just searched different combinations of keywords and actually got about half a dozen psychologists in the state with the first name of Stacey. That could be cut in half based on area, and yes, there is another one in Sacramento. But even so, anyone could call them all. Giving her real first name hasn’t caused any harm yet, but if God forbid some psycho troll latched onto me and called all the Stacey psychologists in my area, I would be so pissed. Stacey wouldn’t give out any information of course, but it’s one thing for trolls to come at me, and another when they go after people I know.

At this point I don’t know what gets to me more… Trump winning or the fact that people have become so obsessed with him that he’s all I hear about no matter where I go. Then again, Trump didn’t “win.” Hate won.

Really wish people would find a – shall we say – healthier obsession. Dwelling on shit that can’t be changed, unless someone can find a way to assassinate both him and Pence.

Lenore peeked in on me after the election but hasn’t been back since. I’m guessing she was curious about my reaction to who was elected.

The more I think about it the more I’m sure that whenever I start a low-calorie diet, the few pounds I always lose isn’t weight but water instead. If the diets were really causing weight loss I would ultimately lose more than just a few pounds, wouldn’t I? I think that for some reason it just triggers water loss.

My Aurora Borealis sweatshirt arrived and fits great. Any smaller and it would be too tight. The material is thicker and of better quality than I thought it would be for the price. The only thing is that the design appears to be a bit darker than it does online.

We went to Walgreens earlier where we both got some junk food. He got chips and cakes and I got a candy bar and Tic Tacs. Other than Tic Tacs, I’m determined to cut out the junk starting tomorrow. It really isn’t good for me. It’s what Tom mostly eats, however, which is unfortunate.

I also got a large rose-gold barrette, which is hard to find. So whenever I spot barrettes this large I grab them.

I also got a pair of blue leggings with faint white streaks. They’re slightly tight but wearable. Now I have leggings in four different colors.

For $10 I got six Hawaiian Lei bath bombs that I’ll be looking forward to trying tomorrow.

The Supermoon is huge and bright, so we’re going out walking just after 3 AM after he’s had a chance to wake up. He still likes to get up a few hours before work so he doesn’t feel rushed and he has a chance to do things that he likes to do.

I let the rats out earlier. Burke always wants to come out, but Dumbo sometimes does, and Simon almost never does. Rats eventually find their way back home when you leave their cage door open. Once Burke was home I shut the door thinking everybody was home. Burke and Dumbo are both dark brown, and an hour or two later I see a dark brown rat climbing up the door. I immediately thought it was Burkey boy and wondered how the hell he got out, but when I picked him up I noticed right away that the fir was coarse and wooly and not smooth and silky like Burke’s. Plus, there were the “down” ears instead of the top ears, and so I knew it was Dumbo. He’d obviously been out the whole time and probably fell asleep behind my desk.

Later…

This bath bomb wasn’t quite as good as the big bomb I got at BB&B, but it was better than the set of small bombs. Still had to lotion up my driest spots… legs/forearms. Didn’t mess up the tub, though, so that’s good. Will probably get more from Walgreens eventually. As for the online variety pack… don’t know. Will leave it in ’save for later’ for now.

I’m excited about the huge Amazon order we’ll be doing next month. Each year we do a huge order and take the year to pay it off. This isn’t just about getting fun stuff, but things we need, as well.

It’s been 2.5 years since we had the carpet installed and it definitely needs to be cleaned. Because I went with a lighter color, dirt tracked in from outdoors is more evident. For about the same price as a rental, you can buy a decent carpet cleaner. That way we can do it at our own convenience anytime we want.

We’re also going to get the floor tiles and FINALLY redo these hideous floors.

Got up just after 7pm, which means I’m now 11 hours from trying the circadian light. I’m going to try to hold my schedule so that I’m sleeping between 10pm - 6am. I still seriously doubt it will help long-term. I know it’s helped some people, but as recent studies have shown, sleep schedules aren’t all about light like they originally thought it was or else they wouldn’t have discovered this particular disorder in some blind people as they have.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2016 Read that in 1995 the Code of Ethics had a 2-year ban on sexual relationships between counselors and clients. Then it was raised to 5 years after termination of therapy in 2005.

But what about just a friendship with a former counselor???

I’ve asked myself over and over again… despite the mutual attraction and fondness that any idiot would’ve picked up on, would I actually want anything more than just a friendship if the choice were mine?

Definitely not. I just don’t feel the need for a side dish nor would I have the confidence for that even if I did, thanks to being fat and older. I could see kissing, hugging, snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie, but definitely not spreading my legs.

The experts insist that even long after termination of therapy, and even if the client is open to sex, it is harmful to the client. I can totally see this being the case if the client goes to a therapist because they were raped, and that therapist takes advantage of their vulnerability and fragile state of mind.

But what about a nonsexual relationship involving a client who went to a therapist on account of a scary reaction to a medication? Rape is a long way away from a drug that can scare the shit out of you in the wrong doses. I just don’t know if we can really lump every single client into one big group like that. Then again I’ve never had any kind of relationship with a former counselor, and I don’t expect to despite the “signs,” so I can’t say for sure how I might end up feeling. My guess is that I wouldn’t feel any different than had I been sitting across from someone on a bus when I happened to be anxious and was given tips on how to handle it, as opposed to sitting across from someone in a room who gave me the same tips.

I know I said this with Johnson, but it’s a little hard to believe that something won’t eventually happen, even though there were a few signs saying it wouldn’t. Not checking out my blog was the biggest sign saying she might actually have zero hopes/plans to meet later on down the road, and personally, it’s really very hard to picture Stacey of all people doing anything unethical. If she has any future hopes or plans for us, then I certainly couldn’t be the first one she’s had them with. So then how would she be getting away with this for 27 years even if it only happened a few times? Would she have waited or something? I suppose if she waited or no one said anything, then she wouldn’t be at risk of losing her license. Again, very hard to picture her ending up friends or fuck buddies with any old clients, but I never would’ve guessed in a million years that I’d catch the eye of a therapist either. Cassandra, which I saw back east in 1991 might have been attracted to me, but this is totally different. Totally.

The not knowing what’s going to happen is slightly frustrating but it’s mostly fun because it keeps things interesting and gives me something to look forward to. The only difference is that if it comes down to me realizing we’re never going to see each other outside the office, I’m not going to be devastated over it for four months like I was when I realized I’d never hear from Johnson again because I’m older and smarter than that now. Then again I don’t know if smarter is a good choice of words, but maybe I’m just better, not as needy, and used to things turning out a certain way.

I keep almost nothing from Tom but I have chosen not to let him in on Stacey’s attraction for me for now so that he doesn’t go getting his paranoid pants on, even if I’m smart enough to know that he knows me better and we’ve been “just friends” for ages now. Attraction or not, we’re not going to get it on like we’re in our 20s, and I’m not going to run off with her into the sunset either. He will know someday. Just not right now unless he’s reading my journals. Otherwise, the only ones who know at the moment are Tammy and some PBers.

I don’t expect to see her ever again, but I’m definitely open to a friendship, and I still plan to call on or around Valentine’s Day, depending on my schedule at the time.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2016 I love to think. I mean really sit and think. It’s good for the brain. It allows you to imagine real possibilities as well as to indulge in fun fantasies. The brain can be one giant workshop or can be one giant playground. It’s an outlet for creativity as well as a means of cultivating understanding and knowledge.

So I sit here tonight and I wonder… how have we become more tolerant yet still so intolerant? We’re more tolerant in that we’ll give blacks extra rights/protection and we’ll allow gays to marry, yet overall we can’t tolerate shit. Or better yet we won’t.

And what is it with the stupidity? Sorry folks, I don’t mean to sound like a know-it-all as I’m the last one who has all the answers, but shouldn’t some things be rather obvious and a simple matter of common sense?

Are there really still people out there who still believe that there’s no such thing as global warming?

Or medical conditions that really can make you depressed or anxious?

That gay/bi people choose to be gay/bi due to rape or incest and that it’s all about body parts only and not the gender as a whole? Yes, we can choose, alright. We can choose not to be who we are. But wouldn’t that be like eating nothing but foods you don’t like for the rest of your life? I wouldn’t change who and what I am because I don’t give a shit about what others think of me. I’m much too selfish to care. But I have a feeling that if we had more control over certain things, we would see a radical change pretty fast.

Later…

I’m normally one who believes in resolving issues without violence, yet I have never in my life wished for a president to be assassinated as I do now. Seriously, he needs to go. We can’t afford to have people like him in this world, especially as a leader. He’s just too fucked up and too dangerous. So please, please… Someone out there… Do the right thing. I don’t care if it’s slow and torturous or short and sweet. Just someone… Get rid of him!

Sure enough, people have begun rioting as I figured they would. While white people have been involved in the riots, I’m not at all surprised that a high school black girl beat the crap out of a white schoolmate for supporting Trump. Gee, blacks, that’s really going to make us like you.

It’s sickening how many bystanders just sat and did absolutely nothing until one girl finally helped. And why do Facebook and Twitter post this shit?

Later…

I couldn’t wait for the election to be over because I was so sick and tired of hearing about the candidates and political shit as a whole, yet everywhere I go online people are STILL going on and on about it. It really is getting old and I wonder when people will move on.

I can’t stand Trump either and I would love to see him and Pence assassinated, but it’s not going to happen, so we might as well just get on with our lives and remember that they’re not as powerful as some may think. There are 2 of them and there are about 300 million of us. I say they’re pretty outnumbered no matter who/what they are. :-) But yeah, even though I’ve always believed in resolving issues without violence, this is the first pair in which I wouldn’t lose a single tear if they got taken out of the picture. The only problem is that it’s become virtually impossible to do since the Reagan attempt.

While we are on the damn subject… I read an interesting journal entry of someone’s that spoke of people’s twisted views/laws no matter what side of the coin they’re on. They pointed out some of the following issues, although maybe not in so many words.

If you wouldn’t vote for Obama because he’s black, you’re racist. If you voted for him because he’s black, you’re not racist.

If you don’t want a shitload of Muslims coming over here that have no regard for American law, believe that gays should be pushed off of buildings and that no woman should be allowed to leave home without a male relative, you’re once again racist.

But then if you support Muslims coming over here that refuse to abide by our law and that want to kill damn near everybody they disagree with, you’re just a sweetheart.

If you voted for Trump, you’re sexist, and if you voted for Hillary, you’re still sexist.

If you’re in favor of birth control, you’re a real ass for believing that women should have total rights to their lives and bodies.

If you’re against birth control, then you’re saving “lives.” You know, those lives that aren’t really lives but actually just a cluster of cells with zero sense of awareness?

If a black person beats the shit out of a white person, it will probably be labeled simple assault and they might get just a few months in jail.

If a white person beats the shit out of a black person, it will probably be labeled a hate crime and that person may very well go to prison for life.

In non-political news, I had palpitations twice when out walking. Really hope it does this during my stress test, but it probably won’t. It doesn’t do it every time I work out. It fluttered a few times as I was climbing the “rollercoaster,” then once as I was coming uphill from the lake. But like a car quits making those funny noises when brought to the mechanic, my heart probably won’t flutter during the test.

Even though it’s way too early being that it’s not even mid-November yet, someone’s got a bunch of Christmas lights running alongside the lake and it looks really cool the way it reflects off the water. I wish I had my camera.

The muscle injury in my lower left gut has healed, but the pain in my lower side is back. Tough shit. I have to work out. Not working out will raise both my weight and my cholesterol.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2016 Walmart is now offering this service where you can order your groceries online, they pick them out for you, and then you pick them up. This is awesome and it would save him a lot of time. The one thing I miss from our old place (besides the seclusion) was when we used to use Raley’s for this service which, strangely enough, isn’t available outside of the rural areas.

It’s nice to know that Sheriff Joe Arpaio will not be reelected. He’s a genuine piece of shit and I honestly don’t know why he’s still alive. He’s pissed off so many people and made so many enemies. I understand his frustration with illegals, but to make inmates live in tents like they’re fucking dogs in doghouses in the brutal heat of the desert is totally inhumane. I can see this with a rapist perhaps, but with women who are prostitutes or druggies? Do they really deserve and need to be treated like animals?

I haven’t had any heartburn in a while now. It definitely had to do with that deep-dish pizza I was getting. It was just way too greasy. I have felt a lot better since I changed my diet and started eating less. Yes, I’m hungry at times but I would honestly prefer that to feeling full and bloated. I eat six times a day, every few hours, and I virtually cut out all cholesterol. I mostly have veggies. I split a giant protein cookie that is loaded with vitamins and nutrients but still tastes good in half for the first two times I eat since it’s two servings. The next two times I eat I split one of those Birds Eye protein mix bags. I really like the Tuscan and the Italian-style mixes. The California and Hawaiian styles are so-so. I won’t dare try the Southwestern or the Thai styles because I don’t like spicy foods. Curry sauce, chili, hot peppers, jalapeños… no way.

I also have a small kiddy yogurt and a fruit cup in between.

As usual, my weight began to reset itself as soon as I hit 151.8, and I don’t doubt that I’ll be back to the 154.4 that I started at, even if I keep dieting. This is where my body feels comfortable and that’s OKAY. I still feel better this way, it keeps me regular, it’s healthy, it’s low cholesterol, and it’s cheaper than TV dinners.

There really are benefits to keeping the extra weight as well as losing it. I would be healthier, more flexible, and better looking if I lost weight. But this way the clothes I got will still fit, my wedding band will still fit, and I don’t have to worry about my meds backfiring on me.

For once I slept okay and didn’t wake up too hot.

I don’t know which rat it was or if it was just some fictitious rat, but last night I dreamed that we were staying somewhere for a while and the rat we had at the time loved it there so much that we decided to leave it behind when we left. No way we would ever do anything like that, of course. Rats can be happy anywhere as long as they have food, love and attention.

Then I was in some store and I just had to have this purple and black dress that was part of some Halloween costume. I was also looking through some strange journal as well.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2016 I still can’t believe Trump won. Everything was pointing to Hillary winning, and she did win the popular votes. No offense to female Trump voters since it was your right to do so, but I have to wonder what kind of self-respect a woman could possibly have for herself if she chooses someone who hates her for the body parts she was born with. Because she thinks he’s going to stop illegal immigration? Well, think again because he just doesn’t have the kind of power a lot of people like to think he has. The vast majority of his power is over the military. I don’t know that I buy his claims of being so anti-immigration anyway because his wife started off as an illegal and he has illegals working for him. I think politicians simply say whatever they think is going to make them the most money whether it’s what people want to hear or not. Yes, I wanted Hillary, but she’s a self-serving, greedy liar too. They all have their good and bad, but I do think this team definitely has more bad than good.

Personally, I wish people would stop coming over here even the legal way because we have enough people here already hogging our precious resources. I highly doubt my husband would have spent 2.5 years on unemployment during the recession if outsiders weren’t coming over by the thousands to take what’s ours.

I know that we’re all entitled to our beliefs and that a simple belief is harmless, but Pence’s belief that gays can be cured through conversion therapy is utterly ridiculous. No one gets to choose their sexual orientation whether they’re gay, straight or bi like me. If one could be converted to being attracted to the opposite sex, then one could be converted to being attracted to the same sex. This isn’t possible, and even if it was… why??? Why should one be forced to change their sexual preference so long as they’re consenting adults?

As I said, he only has so much power, so at least we can take solace in knowing that he can’t strip women of their rights and salaries, he can’t dissolve gay marriages, and he can’t paint black people white either, as I was telling someone else. Tom doesn’t think he’ll ignite World War III, even though that’s what some people fear. We do believe Middle Eastern Muslims will attack more Europeans, however, because Europeans are the closest people they can take their frustrations out on. These are people who believe violence is the answer to everything and will use the slightest excuse to act on that belief.

I know some people are worried that this is sending the wrong message to society saying that it’s okay to hate, and that it’s going to fuel more hatred, but I don’t think it will. There were haters long before Trump hit the scene. I think people become haters because they either choose to do so or they had a horrible personal experience that made them hate.

Even so, and even though I’m a person who does not condone violence whatsoever, I wouldn’t lose any tears if Trump were ever assassinated. I doubt very much it’ll happen, but then again I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be elected either.

Later…

I had a dream that Aly tweeted to me. Good luck with that Hündin, since you don’t know of my Twitter account. She RTd a tweet saying that it’s easier to forgive an enemy than a friend. I’m sure that was aimed at me, too. Still can’t believe she feels she can’t “forgive” someone who was just being honest with her, but as we all know, the world is full of idiocy and senselessness. So yeah, if you tell a friend that she’s getting to be a little too demanding and clingy, and you warn her about phony crazies trying to burn her, you just might find your ass being dumped like yesterday’s trash. Great world we live in, ay?

Lenore is back, too.

Speaking of violence and the way kids act so animalistic these days, Tom was pointing out how my parents probably thought they were helping me by putting me through ear surgery because even though I was a bully, especially in elementary school, kids were much crueler and violence was much higher in the 60s and 70s despite there being fewer people. When our parents were kids, and even when he was a kid, it was socially acceptable for big kids to pick on little kids, just like child abuse was practically legal. If my siblings and I were born in the 90s and later instead of the 50s and 60s, our parents would have been arrested for many of the things they did if they parented in a similar fashion. Child Protective Services would have at least been called to investigate, that’s for sure.

It’s because parents are less violent as a whole that today’s children are out of control. He totally has a point when he said that you either beat them into submission and controlled them with intimidation, threats and violence, or you just let them be, and there isn’t much else in between. I’m sure there are some people who can breed and raise good kids without the violence – he came out just fine without the physical force – but he still does have a point. It’s much quicker and easier to control a person with violence than through words. Either that or money or maybe blackmail. But blackmail comes under the category of intimidation.

This is a tough one for me because while we don’t support child abuse of any kind, I sure miss the days when we could go to stores and restaurants and not be bombarded with screaming, spoiled brats running all over the place. I spent my first 26 years in the East and I don’t remember screaming kids in any restaurants or stores I ever went to. Ever. Things changed around the time I moved to Arizona in the 90s.

So do we bring back and make the unacceptable acceptable once again? I say definitely not. But there doesn’t seem to be much of a happy medium or any other way around the issue. My mother would have kicked my ass if I carried on like today’s kids back when I was a kid. But if she had been like most modern parents, I would’ve been a totally different kid and probably a different adult as well.

Another thing that pisses me off is the dual standards, and this has nothing to do with who the president is. If I beat the shit out of another white person I would be put in prison for years, but if they were black, it would automatically be labeled a hate crime even if that wasn’t the issue at all, and I would be sent to prison for life because they are a “protected class” right along with cops in most state and government officials. I’m sorry, but I still don’t see how blacks are supposed to be discriminated against on the large scale some claim they are. I can see the gays still being shit on by the masses, but with all the special laws and privileges that blacks have that whites don’t, where’s the so-called discrimination that’s supposed to be running rampant?

Later…

I hope Michelle Obama decides to run for prez in 2020. I really do. Tom and I both agree she stands a chance of winning. I think that because she’s black she has a good chance right there despite being a woman. You know me, I still say racism is exaggerated while gay-bashing is played down.

We both agree that she stands a chance because she gives better speeches and she comes off as nicer and friendlier than Hillary. Hillary is just as smart but she does come off as rather stern and businesslike in comparison. So while I may not care for blacks as a whole, Michelle is one of those exceptions and I wouldn’t mind her for president at all.

It really pisses me off that they legalized marijuana in California. Not because I care what others choose to do to their own bodies. Oh no, if you want to kill your brain cells and make yourself a fuckedtarded zombie, go ahead. The problem I have with it is that now I’ll have to gag on secondhand pot smoke when I’m out in public just like I do with cigarette smoke. I’m sure they’ll keep it out of restaurants as with cigarettes, but no one’s going to give a shit if I would prefer to breathe in clean air rather than the joint you’re smoking by the door to the Walmart I’m about to enter or exit.

Tom, however, thinks it will be treated like alcohol, which means you can’t do it in public unless it’s in a place specifically designated for that. Let’s just say this is another reason for me never to want to return to a casino.

So yeah, make yourself forgetful, make yourself stupid, give yourself lung cancer, shorten your lifespan, waste a shitload of money. Just don’t do it at my expense, ok?

Later…

Before meeting Tom, and with very few exceptions, I did a great job of attracting mostly losers. Jobless, carless, stupid, immature people that bordered on crazy. I realize that a lot of us older folks look back on our youth able to say the same thing. Youth often attracts the wrong types no matter how with it we may be.

Yet even before I started turning the heads of the computer wizards, the cops, the lawyers, the nurses and the psychologists, there has always been another pattern present in both my younger and older lives. I seem to mostly – not always but mostly - attract the shy, quiet types. Okay, so Stacey isn’t exactly shy. Quiet, but not shy. Tom is more on the shy side just as Brenda was.

The only problem with shy people is that they tend to be the ones who aren’t very exciting in bed. Then again, Brenda wasn’t that bad and she sure had a major appetite.

As sweet and as likable as Stacey is (I honestly can’t imagine anyone in the world not liking her), I can’t imagine her being very romantic even though she’s not what I would consider shy. You can’t be shy and sit and counsel people all day. She is on the quiet side, but definitely not shy.

For one who’s always had the habit of trying to imagine what people might be like in ways I’ll probably never know firsthand, I just think she would be a major bore in bed with probably not much of an appetite. She is older, though, and you don’t usually have much of an appetite as an older woman anyway. I know the one I started to “vibe” back crapped out pretty quickly.

I still wonder the same things I’ve been wondering about her. Does she think of me as often as I think of her? Does she have any specific hopes for the future? Although I can’t imagine even being just her friend, it’s also hard to imagine her never wanting to see me in some way shape or form because how many other me’s could there possibly be out there? Sweetheart or not, great body or not, she’s not what most people would consider attractive, plus she’s older. Can that many people, like me, stop and say to themselves, you know, there’s just something about Stacey? If she’s in a marriage she’s bored with, or at least that’s sexless no matter how much she may love the guy, and if she likes me and knows I like her, plus knows that I might be her last chance for any kind of “romantic” friendship, would she really pass that up?

Well, Stacey, I’m still going to be your Valentine’s Day phone call in a little over three months from now.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2016 I don’t get it. Everybody complains that Trump hates women, hates gays, hates blacks, hates Hispanics and hates Muslims. Yet they go and vote for him??? WTF? By 6:30 PM PT, it was obvious Trump would win.

I’m both surprised and not surprised. I’m surprised because I thought we were more politically correct than sexist. But then I’m not surprised because I never thought I would see a woman president in my lifetime. Poor Hillary, though. It’s got to be a bit embarrassing to know that your whorebag husband could win but you couldn’t.

Even though all politicians are pretty much the same and they all have their good and bad points, I am disappointed. On the bright side, the president doesn’t have as much power as many people believe they do. Even I know this and I know very little about politics because it simply never interested me. The only real control he has is over the military. In a sense, his presidency will affect those in other countries more than it will affect us. This can be a good thing when it comes to Muslims. That’s the one thing I agree with him on, and I don’t care who the hell I piss off in saying so. I have just as much right to my beliefs and opinions as you do, and I promised myself years ago I wouldn’t choke back in the name of political correctness, not that we’re very politically correct tonight.

Either way, we definitely have to toughen up on not only letting foreigners in general come and go and hog up our resources by taking what’s ours, but especially with potentially dangerous groups of people. Sorry, but it isn’t a small percentage of Muslims that are running around with machetes ready to kill the first person who isn’t a carbon copy of themselves, and this isn’t a belief, but a fact. It’s not just a few hundred either. It’s not even a few thousand. We’re talking millions. That’s just the way their culture is… you treat women and children like shit and you slaughter those that are different. It’s a socially accepted norm within their everyday way of living. Well, I don’t want that shit brought over here. You want to cut your neighbor’s head off for being Christian, do it on your own damn turf.

I can’t even go more than a few days without seeing some headline about some Muslim somewhere being caught with explosives, or bombing this place or bombing that place. How many more innocent people need to die before someone does something to at least cut down the number of senseless murders?

Still, I really had hoped that Hillary would win, and a big part of me actually thought she would despite sensing that I would never see a woman president in my lifetime, because for every one complaint I would hear about her, I would hear dozens about Trump. But we do live in a country where women love men and men just adore each other as well. The best we can hope for is an assassination, but would Pence really be any better? Honestly, I never could get people like these guys. If they hate women that much then why aren’t they with men?

Had to laugh when Tom said Hillary would win Florida. I knew Trump would win because of the older population there, and they tend to favor him more than the younger people.

“It depends on how the Puerto Ricans vote,” he said, “and Trump says they’re all bad.”

Yeah, and I say Puerto Ricans are dumb. They would vote for someone that hates them.

I’m back to not sleeping well and therefore I’m a little tired when I’m awake, but since I received my circadian light today, maybe it will help. I have my doubts, but then I never would have thought that Stacy’s emotional tapping or EMDR would help as much as it has either. Even if it helps for just a week or two at a time, that will make getting to appointments, going on vacation, and things like that a lot easier to deal with.

My Childhood:

Born and raised in Massachusetts in a bedroom town that wasn’t rich but was very comfortable. My parents had me when they were 32 and 33 years old, which was considered a bit old to be having kids back in 1965. My sister Tammy was 8 years older and my brother Larry was 12 years older.

The house we lived in when I was born was next to my maternal grandparents. We spent our summers in a small cottage at a Connecticut beach and moved to the older section of town when I was around 12.

My health issues consisted mainly of asthma, allergies, and a deformed ear in which my ear canal was also fused shut. Had surgery in Boston to build an outer ear through plastic surgery, but ended up with something that looked worse than what I started with.

My Teens:

Having an abusive mother with an enabling father who chose to look the other way, I developed emotional issues that left me insecure and eventually to attempt suicide.

As a child with ADHD, I didn’t always do well in school or get along well with others. I ended up in an adolescent psychiatric hospital in Vermont for 5 months which my mother promised me I would come out of as a “whole new person,” and then I attended an alternative school in the city.

In April of 1982, my parents gave me up to the state. I went through a couple of foster homes, one with a loving Italian couple and another with a neglectful black woman, before a quick trip to the state funny farm and then a private girls’ school for two years, which I hated. I did, however, become close with a few students and staffers which I’m in touch with today on Facebook.

My 20s:

Got my first apartment in the city the day before I turned 20 in 1985. At the time I was working as a housekeeper at a hotel just below the state line. I soon lost my job and went on disability.

I became a very liberal person who had both boyfriends and girlfriends. Nothing was a “sin” to me so long as the people were of age and consenting.

I had two apartments in Springfield, MA, one in South Deerfield, MA, and then I spent four months and the projects in Norwich, CT.

Had a nervous breakdown mostly due to the noise that put stress on me and prevented me from sleeping, then I finally gave up on the East altogether. I moved to Phoenix Arizona in 1992 where a longtime friend and gay guy lived that I’m no longer friends with.

For a while, I was an exotic dancer, and my husband Tom was my neighbor in one of the four apartments I would have in Phoenix before I moved into his house with him. We married in 1994. We lived in Phoenix from 1993-1999. We went through four different neighbors next door while we were there, each one progressively worse.

My 30s

In 1996 I had surgery to remove what was left of my outer left ear and to create an ear canal. I’ve had intermittent earaches because of it for the last 12 years, but surgery was necessary to rule out a tumor once I began to experience sensitivity within the ear.

In 1997 I quit smoking and in 1999 we bought a 10-acre ranch in rural Maricopa and lived there for five years.

We traded in Arizona for Oregon in 2004 after purchasing a 2.5-acre parcel of land. Our plans to build a dome house quickly fell through due to the expenses which added up fast, prompting us to rent first a duplex and then a small, old rundown house in the town of Klamath Falls.

I hated the cold and the snow, but my husband eventually got a good-paying job and we had a lot of fun shopping and winning things. I would enter tons of sweeps and contests and would win something every few days back then, from little prizes to big prizes, before the competition grew fierce with the onslaught of social media.

My 40s

We moved to NorCal in 2007. The recession damn near killed us. We spent the first eight months in motels, then rented a dumpy old trailer out in the country for five years. My husband was on unemployment for 2.5 years, and I’m not able to work mostly due to circadian rhythm disorder.

In the fall of 2011, he was finally given a good-paying job and it was all uphill from there. In the summer of 2013, we bought a two-bedroom house in a gated adult community. It’s a little noisier than I’d like, but we love having something that’s not so old and all the extra space.

In January 2014 we took a wonderful trip to Maui with travel credit I won right after I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s disease and told I had high cholesterol.

July 9th of that year and one day shy of our 1-year anniversary in this house, I called the paramedics in a panic because I thought I was having a heart attack and suspected my thyroid medication was connected to it somehow. It was absolutely terrifying and I believed I would die that day. It wasn’t a heart attack, however, just extreme anxiety unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

My 50s

The incident with my thyroid medication traumatized me so deeply that I was compelled to switch medical groups (though we also switched for other reasons) and I began to see a therapist. I suffered on and off for a year and a half. Tachycardia, along with perimenopause, was a factor in what happened. They all fueled each other in a bad way.

In late January we flew from California to Fort Lauderdale, Florida and then went on a cruise to Cozumel, Mexico. The cruise ended up being a nightmare, but reuniting with the sister I hadn’t seen in 25 years back in Florida, along with seeing two of my nieces since they were babies, was a wonderful experience.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2016 It’s been almost a year without Andy in my life and I can’t say I miss him. This doesn’t mean I hate him or wish bad things upon him or that I think he’s a bad person. We definitely had our share of fun, funny and interesting moments. I’ll always giggle when certain things come to mind, and if he suddenly showed up homeless on my doorstep, of course I wouldn’t have the heart to turn him away.

We just simply grew to be way too different over the years. His ignorance, arrogance and stupidity really got to me. Normally I don’t give a shit who might have these little false truths in mind that they believed about me, as there is a difference between a belief in fact, but aren’t our friends supposed to be able to take us for face value?

Did he know me better than most people? Absolutely. But sometimes we’re wrong about the people we know well, and we don’t know every single thing there is to know about them. People change and you can’t always assume they’re going to handle something a certain way based on their past actions. I mean, when he was a kid in school he ignored bullies. Today he’d fight back. Now if something like watching TV got in the way of my writing then I might very well reconsider watching TV.

I just got so tired of being judged and compared to others as well as himself constantly. If I disagreed with him it was because I was “being just like my mother,” rather than an individual who simply happened not to agree with him.

If he was jealous of someone who was young and skinny, then it was automatically assumed that I was too, and that there was no way anybody else was going to be comfortable with who/what they were, even if they knew they weren’t perfect, as long as he wasn’t comfortable with his own self. Everybody was expected to have the same insecurities he had. That’s just the way he was. He didn’t seem to care if others could relate to his positive traits and experiences, but any negative ones were automatically assumed to be mutual. Like he got off on the idea of others being miserable right along with him, not that he was always miserable. But he seemed to be down in some way a lot of the time.

I also didn’t care for his two-wrongs-make-a-right attitude. “It’s about time whites got to feel how blacks once felt,” he once said.

I remember shaking my head sadly, embarrassed for him, the day he said this. Did he ever listen to himself? Did he ever hear the stupidity and senselessness in many of his words? You might as well tell every woman who hasn’t been raped that it’s about time she finds out what those who have been raped feel like, right?

It was weird, though, because he could be as compassionate as he was lacking in empathy. He bought coats for the homeless, and he sent me cheesecake when I was going through the side effects in conjunction with the perimenopause… but Robin Williams threw it all away just for shits and giggles?

Now let’s talk about the selfishness – yes he did apologize for not even making it out of the parking lot of the train station when we picked him up yet already he’d mentioned God, and yes he did apologize for being stingy with the gum after we spent enough money on him – but why was it that I was always quick to ask him how his doctors appointments when more often than not he wouldn’t ask me shit? He would eventually read about it in my journals, but was that really the same thing? Especially if you’re going to read about an appointment 6 months after the fact?

The hypocrisy was like OMG at times. How can you pat yourself on the back for being what you believe is unique, but then you seem to want to go out of your way to fit into the so-called norms? In one breath he would bash those that bash blacks and gays, but then he would turn around and judge my husband who never did a damn thing to him in his life. He would judge his lifestyle and preferred way of living, despite the fact that it works just fine for him and he’s happy. AND Andy’s the same loner he is. The only difference is that with Tom it’s by choice. With Andy, it’s because he can’t make friends or keep them for very long when he does.

He once said that when we were younger, other gays didn’t like us. In hindsight, I can see that that’s only half true. I can’t speak for him, but for me, the issue was more that back then I was just so damn picky than that there was nobody that wanted me. These days, however, I’m not solely attracted to ultra-feminine women. I’ve actually come to like them in the middle and I’ve actually preferred that since around the new millennium. I realize that a lot of women that were interested in me back in the pre-Tom days that I wasn’t attracted to; I would now probably consider them attractive or at least acceptable. Honestly, I doubt I would be attracted to Stacey 20 years ago. These days she’s totally my type. The only thing she doesn’t have that I normally go for is height. She’s a brilliant psychologist with a brilliant and compassionate mind. She has a great body, warm brown eyes and a sexy smile, though I can see where most people may consider her face rather average-looking. And her shoulder-length brown hair.

I appreciate that he apologized for some of the judgmental, cruel and false things he said about both myself and my husband. But no matter how sincerely we may apologize that doesn’t take back, erase or undo what was said and the hurt that was caused by those words. People may forgive but they don’t forget. Not until selective amnesia is a real possibility.

As for his constant forgetfulness and being slow to grasp some things, I think that was for a variety of reasons. I understand that the pot damaged brain cells along the way. I get that. And he may not be the brightest person on earth naturally, but he wasn’t the dumbest either and I think that he would sometimes play dumb/slow just to mess with and frustrate people. Again, I know we can’t always judge people in the present by how they were in the past, but as even he admitted, he sometimes liked to annoy and mindfuck people. The more I would let him know that his constant obsession/chatter with celebrities and food, for example, was annoying, the more he would “happen” to mention these topics. The more I would dislike a particular picture, the more I would see it on his old Ask wall before that site went to hell. The more I would have preferred not to hear about God, the more I would.

I would never want anyone to try to change or control me, but when someone I supposedly care about lets me know something I’m overdoing something and being annoying, I do try to curb it within reason. I get, however, that if you literally are obsessed/addicted to something it’s not easy to choke it back any more than it’s easy to quit smoking. Food, celebrities and young men were what made his world go around, you could say. LOL

Another thing I don’t miss is the blatant lack of sensitivity. His insisting Robin Williams “threw it all away” is not only a sheer display of utter ignorance but also an ultimate display of stupidity. Any idiot with half a brain would have common sense enough to know that no one’s so damn happy that they up and decide to say WTF one day and throw it all away. It’s a mental illness! Various medical conditions, illnesses, injuries and medications can affect anyone emotionally at any time, and if you think you’re invisible and that it’s all a matter of choice, you’re a real fucktard IMO. Seriously, I hope the guy didn’t take the cooking class he once said he considered. That’d not only feed his obsession with food (pardon the pun), but I think a psychology class would be more beneficial to him. In the end, it’s his life and his decision. I’m just sure that most experts would agree that not all suicidal people can be saved just like not all cancer patients can be saved.

As they say, you can’t change people and make them who/what you want them to be, and I wouldn’t want to any more than I would want someone doing that to me. Therefore I am glad I can just avoid these types of idiots instead. We were just too damn different in the end as I said. He’s sure there’s a God and that things happen for a reason and are destined to play out the way they do. I believe there probably isn’t a God and things are just random. There’s just too much diversity in people’s lives. If there were a sense of order and sameness for all of us, then it would seem planned and designed to be that way. But sometimes the innocent baby dies of cancer while the murderer wins the lottery. My sister’s a die-hard fan/believer of God yet she had a heart attack and a million other health issues this year. I’m agnostic and 95% of 2016 has been great. Sorry, but I don’t see the “grand plan” in that. But you know what? It’s ok to disagree. It’s when we go into judgmental, critical, control-freak mode that I have a problem with. Sometimes you’re wrong and sometimes I’m wrong, too. Nobody knows it all.

He once said he prayed for Comcast to be late with a repair job so he’d get something like $20, and they were late and he did get the money. Well, guess what? They were late with us too, we didn’t pray, yet we still got the money, too. Go figure. I still say it comes down to fate and not what we pray for. If prayer actually worked, we could ask for anything we wanted. I just don’t know if there’s something up there deciding on what we get/don’t get, or if it’s happenstance, but I’m leaning with chance based on the random diversity I pointed out in which no obvious pattern is present. So… Life is going to play itself out whether I prefer it to play out a certain way or not. That’s just been my own personal experience and observation.

What it came down to with Andy was not only the things I just mentioned but his negativity as well. I realized that in his mind he was just being honest, and it isn’t that I don’t appreciate the truth, but there’s a time to be honest and there’s a time to just accept and be happy for people. When you focus on nothing but the negative possibilities and aspects of things, people find you both annoying and depressing, almost as if you don’t want them to be happy.

Lastly, the immaturity got frustrating. We’re all young at heart in various ways. I mean look at me with my rainbow teddy bear. But again, too much is too much IMO, and oftentimes I felt like I was talking to a teenager.

So do I want to resume our friendship now that a year has passed? No, I don’t, and I don’t think he does either. I hope not for his sake. But I do wish him the very best.

Later…

Waved hello to Geri as I was out front watering the cactus that we plan to move into a bigger pot. It’s a large clay pot that was left here by the last owners.

We’re planning to finally do the floors next month. I’ve got a design in mind for the kitchen and one in mind for the laundry/bathroom area. Andy was the smarter one when it came to that. Yes, that’s the one thing he definitely got right that we didn’t… leaving only the bedrooms carpeted. Well, I’ll consider this the practice house. The next house will only have carpet in the bedrooms, all the walls will be white so no wall hangings clash with the colored walls, the place will be less busy so it’s less circus-like, and wooden blinds will be in the windows instead of these traditional blinds. Wooden blinds have a stick where you can open and close them in a split-second. With regular blinds, you have to keep winding and winding the stupid wand. Wooden blinds will also be sturdier whereas these are flimsy.

I was so glad to learn that they canceled Oktoberfest on Sunday, which the rain had prevented last month! I’m just amazed because I don’t usually get that lucky. One less thing to have to deal with.

It’s also been surprisingly quiet these last couple of days as far as motorcycles go. Didn’t hear the really loud car stereo tonight, but it might have blasted around when I was under the headphones.

I can’t believe how lucky we got with the new neighbors and how quiet next door has been for over a year now. This is a totally well-deserved compensation for the years we had to put up with one bad neighbor after another who just couldn’t shut up. To this day I have to ask myself… how did I not end up snapping and totally losing it on one of them? Everybody has their breaking point and we can only be pushed so far for so long. I’m just glad we escaped it before I could finally snap, storm over to them in the heat of the moment, and do who knows what.

The people next to the “Twenties” have red and green projection Christmas lights dancing across the front of their place and it looks really cool. Still think it’s way too early for that kind of thing, but that’s just how this country is… instead of waiting till it’s a few weeks away from an event, they start celebrating a few months in advance. It’s silly and annoying but I guess it’s harmless.

I was laughing at a couple of things I read. One said that you’re partly bigoted if you even so much as notice that somebody you may pass in the store or something like that is black. Oh, come on. How can you not notice any more than you can not notice if they’re white? Take Alyssa, for example, who just married black guy. Does anyone who knows her really think she’s unaware of the fact that Donte is black and consider her part racist? So… sorry but I gotta disagree with this one.

Then there’s the issue of what’s judgmental and what’s not. It’s human nature to form opinions on various things the instant we hear and see things throughout life. We do it subconsciously without even realizing it. It’s like that saying… opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got them. So I don’t think it makes us judgmental in a bad way because we may mentally decide that the woman at the bank wore a very pretty shirt while the guy down the street painted his house an ugly color. I think we only become judgmental in a bad way when we criticize others for being who/what they are and trying to force them to conform to what we think is right.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 2016 Last night’s plans of enjoying the night away and into the wee hours of the morning turned into a long, luxurious sleep. It felt so good, too. Not sure why I tired down so early, but I must’ve slept longer than I have in ages. Like 10-11 hours. Didn’t sleep with my Fitbit on, so I don’t know the exact time.

Sarah’s health took a turn for the better and she’s now home. Good for her!

I was very active yesterday and this caused the muscle injury I’ve had for a few weeks now to flare back up. The one in my very lower left gut where the stomach meets the pubes. So I’ll limit what types of exercises I do for the next week to hopefully finally get rid of it for good. I’m like, come on, heal already!

After we returned from walking and running my heart fluttered more than usual. Like maybe a dozen palpitations instead of just a few. It was a little unnerving and might’ve been scary had I been alone. Hope it does this during my stress test next month so they can tell me if it’s harmless or not, though I think it’s pretty safe to say it’s probably harmless. I’m alive, aren’t I? Still, it was weird and I wonder if it should’ve done that or not.

My eyes have been itchy the last few days and the allergy eye drops I usually use for that didn’t help, so I used Tom’s artificial teardrops and that helped a lot.

Has Stacey literally dried up my tears by EMDRing me? LOL, I haven’t shed a tear since, though most of the tears I have shed over the last couple of years have been medically/hormonally induced. I think the last time I cried genuine tears of sadness was when my rat Sugar died. There were also tears of joy when I reunited with my family at the beginning of the year.

My light gray sweatshirt with the cat face arrived yet I was totally swimming in it so I gave it to Tom. It looks good on him.

Last night I dreamed I was walking down a long hallway and I glanced into a small room with an open door. The back wall of the room had a window in which I could see my dad sitting just outside of it on a chaise lounge on an enclosed porch patio of some kind.

I walked into the room to say hello. He was munching on some chips and talking on the phone with Mom. He handed the phone to me and my mother began talking but I don’t remember what she said.

Later…

And the loud car stereo has hit the scene. How can people still be “ok” with these things??? This is like the 6th night in a row this thing has been at it. They stop the music and start it and back and forth. You can tell they’re doing it just to piss people off.

Stepped outside to try to see where it was coming from, and it was right over the wall somewhere. Even a couple of other people came out to try to see what the fuck was up. I could hear the hot water tank door vibrating it was so fucking loud.

Someone’s finally GOT to do something about this shit, but when??? How many more decades is it going to take??? Do we have to wait till they’re loud enough to literally destroy windows and homes before action is finally taken?

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2016 Signing it at a sunny 65° after waking up just in time to hear the first motorcycle of the day tearing around the corner.

I’m worried about Sarah who has been hospitalized. At first I thought it was just a shoulder injury that they mentioned before and that they were just being their usual dramatic selves. But she actually has a bowel infection and the bowel is twisted. It’s fixable, which is nice to know, but it may require surgery to do it. Let’s hope not!

Tammy called and filled me in on what’s going on with everybody. That poor sister of mine is so overwhelmed now with all that’s going on. Wish she’d get the break she deserves! And Sarah, too. I hate to say it, but I’m so glad we never had kids. That’d just be one more (or more than one more) person to have to worry about.

Anyway, they thought she had a stomach bug at first, only she was in pain and not having the runs or any bowel movements at all. So Becky called the ambulance and Tammy shot on over. She was able to beat the ambulance since they were just a few minutes away. They had her on liquids at first, then let her order regular food to see if that would get things going. It didn’t. So they’re not sure what they’re going to do next, but Tammy said she’d keep me posted.

I learned something new about myself while chatting with Tammy. I knew she was 8 and Larry was 12 when they moved from Springfield to Longmeadow, but I thought I wasn’t born until after they moved to Longmeadow. She said nope, I was born when they were still on Willowbrook and how I was in her room, she had to put up with my shit, and she wanted to open the window and toss me out, hahaha.

Also, they found traces of asbestos in one of her lungs, which she suspects could be from the Willowbrook house and maybe the older Longmeadow house. Well, if she’s got traces, I might, too.

So I worry for them and I also worry about my numbers when I hit the labs next month. My TSH would have to float up to around 16 before I could tolerate 88mcgs without the killer anxiety. I hope it stays where it has been, though. It’s usually around 10.

As for my cholesterol… I know it’s going to be high. It’s just a matter of how high.

Said hello to Bob and Virginia yesterday when I saw them sitting outside the front of their place on the way to pick up the mail. She said she liked my purple pants and purple shoes. Damn, that woman has bionic eyes for an oldie to be able to tell my shoe color from where she sat on her patio. I never left the street as we spoke.

The only thing that shoots down the doctor’s jaw joint arthritis theory is that it not only seems worse when I lay on it but like the pain is more toward the surface. It almost feels like it’s in the area where what’s left of the upper part of the ear meets my head. But with the jaw being so close it could be deceptive as far as exact location, and we do lay on our jaw/teeth to a degree. People have had what they thought were earaches that were really toothaches, so who knows for sure?

Couldn’t take the dizziness yesterday when trying to fast so I had one of those nutritional cookies that still taste good but that’s loaded with protein, vitamins and minerals, and I felt MUCH better. By the end of the day, I’d consumed about 1200 calories and was down another half a pound when I got up. So even though I can’t go longer than 3-4 hours without getting dizzy, I still ate less.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2016 Lenore is still checking my blog as religiously as she is.

My new zebra pattern stockings fit well, but the skirt is too tight. It’s too bad too, because the skirt is surprisingly good quality for the price.

My sizzling pink sweatshirt fits perfectly and is also of good quality.

Peyton’s Rainbow dress looks great. Better than the dull outfit she came in.

The Neroli chamomile shower bombs I got smell wonderful, but they don’t last long. You’re supposed to put them in a spot that gets wet but that isn’t in the shower stream. Yet this isn’t very easy to do in the master bathroom’s tiny little phone booth shower stall. Just the water bouncing off of me pretty much hits every spot. That’s the thing I hate most about this house that I otherwise love. You have this 10 x 8 bathroom with this little teeny shower in it.

I slept kind of shitty the last two nights so I’m lightheaded again and may not get much done today other than the laundry. Part of that may be my fault. I got the bright idea to try to fast for the day. If you fast for just a single day here and there it’s supposed to be very beneficial. It boosts the immune system, detoxes the body, and boosts the metabolism. Long-term fasting has negative effects on the other hand.

Hunger pangs are one thing, but head rushes are another. I got up at 8:30 and at 11:15 my head was swimming, so I slammed on a yogurt. I take multivitamins every day which need to be taken with food, but that also has to wait 4 hours after taking my thyroid meds, so at around 1:00, I may have a little something. I just can’t do what I was able to do 30 years ago. Grrr.

Had a dream that Stacey surprised me with two or three letters, but I don’t know if the “letters” were postal letters or emails.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2016 Seriously? Now we’re up to THREE motorcycles on this circle alone where OLD people live?!

And damn the Twenties and their service vehicles and visitors! Argh! I won’t even get into the landscaping, planes and car stereos I heard yesterday as well, though the stereos aren’t in the park.

Anyway, I went to my ENT and was seen in the exam room by a new male nurse. He was very friendly and was also nice enough to use an old-fashioned blood pressure cuff on me. I hate the electronic ones. Ridiculous fear or not, I always worry they’re going to lose their minds and squish me to death. I’d rather rely on a human being than a machine for something like this. So I’m almost normal at 130/80. HR was 97, not surprisingly. Weight = fatty but I have a new plan of attack in mind for that.

The doctor recently married and her name has changed. The instant she stepped into the room and I looked at her face I thought, wow, she’s gained weight. Then my eyes moved downward. She’s pregnant, so that explains it, LOL.

So I told her my ear’s been really achy and I’ve had to oil it every day instead of a few times a week, yet when she looked inside everything looked fine. It didn’t even need to be cleaned of dead skin or anything.

She said the drainage I sometimes feel is probably allergies, and that I should return to my nasal spray. I stopped using it only because it’s not prime allergy time, but then why wait for the sneezing fits to strike, right?

She said she could refer me to other specialists if I’d like but that there was nothing that could be done about the achiness, which she said could be arthritis in my jaw. Hmm… she has a point there. I never thought of that, but it’s true that when it aches it is in the jaw joint area. She also recommended getting a mouth guard from my dentist in case grinding my teeth in my sleep, which I think I might do, is a factor. I don’t see my dentist till March, but I’ll definitely mention it to her. For now, I’ll keep up the daily oiling cuz it has helped as opposed to every few days.

Will return to my ENT in May. She still wants to keep up on it every 6 months, which makes me feel better as well.

Now I have to decide whether or not to carry on with NaNoWriMo, and maybe I’ll do some highlights on some old stuff, too. It just may be a few days before it’s posted.

Last night I had dreams about being stuck in Oregon with no way to contact Tom to tell him where I was and have him come and get me.

Then I had a ridiculously silly dream where next door’s house was even closer than it really is, and instead of their garage window facing our bedroom windows, there was a bathroom window instead. Tom was going to do something to their window late at night to keep their light from shining into our bedroom. Only problem was that there was a thorny rosebush he would have to work around in the dream. In reality, we have blackout shades/curtains. Works great. :)

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2016 Had a nice half-hour walk in the fog this morning. Yesterday I met with Dr. S for the second and probably the last time. This is because, as I expected, there’s no cure for my type of circadian rhythm disorder and there really isn’t much more he can do for me other than recommend melatonin supplements and a LUX lightbox. Melatonin is only so helpful for so long, so I’m going to try the 10,000 LUX light he recommended I use for the first half-hour of my day to help set my body’s rhythm. I don’t think it’s going to get me on a schedule, but it may help, and since it’s not a medication or anything going into my body, why not? It’s safe. :-) It’s similar to a SAD lamp that people use to fight seasonal depression. I could have used one of those up in Oregon not that I was “depressed.” I was just rather blah, though, and didn’t have much energy.

Come to think of it, though, when we were in the RV on Bly Mountain on the 2.5-acre parcel of land we so briefly owned up in Oregon, I slept alongside a huge window. I would awaken with the sunlight that would stream into it as soon as it rose above the evergreens and junipers. So I wonder… if I lived outdoors as if it were primitive times, would I be on a schedule? Maybe not, since this disorder was discovered in blind people, after all.

I learned from him that there are different types of circadian rhythm disorders. One of them is a delayed circadian rhythm disorder where people can’t help but fall asleep and get up earlier than they like, like 6 PM to 3 AM, for example. There’s a late one too, where people go to bed and get up later than they’d like. Those won’t prevent you from working outside of the house like my kind does.

I told him that I would sometimes use Benadryl to help me sleep, but never cared for how groggy it could make me the next day and how long it would make me sleep. Even though I may wake up at times, I still average eight hours of sleep, so that much is good. He said Benadryl is best to avoid because it can affect cognitive memory. Back when I used to use it more often I had memory issues, but untreated hypothyroidism can cause that as well. My memory has improved tremendously with thyroid treatment.

I’m not even using lorazepam anymore. In fact, I’m almost certainly going to cancel my December appointment with the new shrink. I haven’t had anxiety for the better part of a year now that my medication has been regulated, so there’s no point in seeing him.

The sleep doc said that those who end up with Hashimoto’s usually start off with hyperthyroidism, and even though they never tested me for some reason back then, both Tom and I would be willing to bet that I did indeed have hyperthyroidism 20 years ago. I’ve always been a rather animated person, but I was WAY more hyper than I was now and my heart raced more often back then, too. It will get racy if I stop my meds, though, because as O pointed out, your heart can race if you have too little or too much thyroid hormone in you.

I have had palpitations here and there where the heart flutters noticeably hard for about three or four beats. Sometimes it seems to skip a beat or double up on beats, but I can’t say for sure that it is. That’s why I’m having a stress test in December. He said that some palpitations are harmless while others could put you at risk for stroke or heart attack. When we first moved to Cali I had them all the time, but when I checked online I found that more often than not, they’re harmless. Family history says I could have problems later in life, but right now I would be willing to bet that my heart is still just fine. I’m still relatively young, I’m active, I’m not obese, and I eat right most days.

So we have the LUX light, a new hand vacuum, new batteries for the scale, a new felt cube for the rats to nest in, and rat bedding on the way from Amazon since we’ll need it before the next bedding subscription arrives.

He also got some electronic-related stuff and I got some clothes. A black skirt, black zebra patterned pantyhose, a pink sweatshirt, a sweatshirt with the aurora borealis printed on it, and an ash-gray sweatshirt with a cat face.

I also got a rainbow dress for one of my 18-inch dolls and shower bombs. I guess you place the bomb on the shower floor away from the spray and it’s supposed to make your shower smell really good. I got the neroli and chamomile-scented ones.

Yesterday’s traffic and landscaping were totally obnoxious, especially the landscaping. I didn’t hear any motorcycles yesterday, but I have today. Figured I would, too.

Not sure I want to continue on with NaNoWriMo as I just don’t have any exciting ideas. That’s something I can’t really force. I either have a great idea to expand on or I don’t. More than likely I will just edit my last book.

I’m also not sure if I want to continue with my monthly bio project because it is just so much work to go through so many years of journals, pulling out the main highlights, etc. I’ll leave what I have posted so far which is up to mid-1993. I can always decide later on to continue with that if I want to, but if I do, it’s a project that could easily take a year or two.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2016 NaNoWriMo has begun but I haven’t. Yesterday I totally took a day off from life. I wasn’t fatigued; I just didn’t feel like doing much of anything. We all have those days every now and then. I did go out for a walk and I did do some things I usually do, but for the most part, I just sat around, goofed off, and was annoyed with the tech issues going on at Prosebox.

Change always equals tech issues. I understand that people want to keep perfecting and making things better, but sometimes things already are better and they should be left alone. There’s so much change online that it drives me batty at times. Amazon’s changed so much that I can’t even find where I stored my doc files. That’s okay, though, as I can always back things up on other sites. I just wish people would leave a good thing alone and remember that they wouldn’t have gotten users in the first place if they didn’t like the sites just the way they were.

The only popular site that I rarely use is Facebook. Never had an Instagram account either. I can’t do anything on Facebook without it being thrown in my friends’ feeds, and I still say it’s none of their business, as much as I love them unless I want to make it their business. So I rarely “react” or comment on things. Even if I could control who sees my activity as easily as I can control what I see of their activity, there’s nothing for me to really do there. I always hated their games.

Gotta see my sleep specialist today. Even though I’ve only seen him once, I still don’t see how he can help me. There simply is no cure for circadian rhythm disorder. If there is, it’s news to me. I guess I can update whatever he says later on or tomorrow. I mean I probably shouldn’t share anything health-related in public, but it really is no big deal. Oh, it’s a big deal if you’re cursed with having to live with it, but I know how so many people are… if they don’t get it, then it can’t possibly exist or it must be some grand lie/excuse. Well, it’s not my job to educate life’s little ignorants. :-) It’s just my job to live my life the best I can in a way that suits me best.

Didn’t hear any motorcycles yesterday, but as expected, the end of the rain brought out the blowers and somebody’s hammer, along with the usual spattering of car door slamming. So, little distractions but nothing maddening. It was raining in the wee hours of the night, but there’s only a 25% chance of rain during the day today.

I just asked Alexa what the temperature is in Springfield and it’s 26°! ROTFL!!! It’s colder there right now than in Klamath Falls. It’s 55° here right now. Still, I envy those in Florida and Maui right now.

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barnesafterglow · 2 years ago

Text

friday (i'm in love)

summary: every day you love bucky. every friday he pretends to love you too

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: college!au, angst, phoebe bridgers made me do this, ambiguous ending

a/n: i've been working on this bad boy since august and finally got around to finishing it. i actually really like this and i hope you all do too! please remember to reblog and comment - i love getting feedback!

masterlist ─ i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary and turn on notifications to stay updated on when i post!

The Monday sun trickled through your half opened blinds, waking more sweetly than you probably deserved. Your eyes cracked open, seeing a peaking glance of the blue morning sky, and a half smile made its way to your face. Mondays were usually hard for you but you thought that just maybe today would be a change.

That is until your hand reached for the other side of the bed, feeling the sheets cold from a body long gone. Any warmth the splashes of sun may have granted you seeped from your body, leaving you as cold and empty as your sheets. Disappointed - but not surprised - you slipped from underneath the covers and made your way to the bathroom. While you were waiting for the water to heat up, you hesitantly looked at yourself in the mirror.

It was the same as every Monday of the semester - messy hair, the remnants of mascara just under your eyes, the peak of a smattering of bruises across your collarbones - always low enough that no one could see them but you, and the person who left them there. But they would mostly fade by Friday, just to be replaced over the weekend.

It was a pattern you had somehow let yourself fall into, no end in sight. Every time your roommate gave you the side eye, or poured you a glass of wine when she heard your muffled sobs over the sound of the running shower, or heard the door quietly open and close in the way too early morning hours while she was awake in the living room, you tried to come up with ways to end it, ways to break the cycle. You would never do it, of course, but maybe if you could imagine, just for a moment, an end to the hurt you put yourself through, you could take a breath of relief.

As you stepped out of the lobby of your apartment into late fall air, you tampered down a quick flash of anger. It didn’t seem fair that the light blue of the sky and the golden rays of the sun were allowed to be out and proud when your own blue mood was so dark it neared black.

But still, just like every Monday, you took a deep breath and headed to your first class.

You were halfway across campus when you saw Bucky, talking to Sharon, and the quick flash of eye contact before he looked away, not so much as a wave of recognition, threatened to bring you to your knees.

And the sky remained blue and clear.

Tuesday was so dark and cold it gave you whiplash.

The second day of the week was always a little easier, the wound less fresh, and you eased yourself out of bed, still sore from yesterday’s workout - where you ran until you could barely breathe because it was the only time you stopped thinking of Bucky. The warm shower nearly held you hostage, knowing you would be faced with a bitter chill once you stepped outside.

You managed to get out despite the protests from every cell in your body, and spent a long time getting ready, delaying the inevitable.

Your heart thudded, heavy in your chest, as you navigated campus, never sure when your greatest daydream and darkest nightmare would emerge from the crowd to haunt you with empty eyes.

The universe granted you reprieve for a day.

Wednesday wasn’t as kind.

The same weather matched your overcast mood and you bundled up in the first sweatshirt you grabbed from your drawer.

It wasn’t until you were already out of the door that you realized it was Bucky’s, and you let out a choked sound before you composed yourself.

Of course it would be your luck to be just outside the building when you got a message your only class for the day had been canceled, and you decided to make the trip worth your time by heading to the library.

You studied for your upcoming exam, digging into your textbook with a highlighter and a middle-of-the-week attitude.

As you turned the page, it sliced your finger and you let out a hiss of pain. The other hand gripped your pen so hard you thought it might explode in a splash of ink and shame. From the way your week was already going, you honestly wouldn’t be surprised.

Dropping the pen on the table with a soft clatter, you dug around in your bag, searching for tissues you knew you didn't have. You finally gave up, sticking the bleeding fingertip in your mouth so you didn’t get blood on the page of notes you had been diligently working on. You looked around to see if anyone had seen your miniature fiasco, but everyone else on the floor was either immersed in their own studying or chatting quietly amongst themselves.

In your glance around, the elevator doors opening caught your eye at the very same moment Bucky walked out. Your heart swelled in a flurry of hope as his face split into an easy grin, until you realized he was looking over you. You turned your head enough to see Steve and Sam just a few tables over, and Bucky took a couple steps forward until his gaze dropped enough to see you. And your sweatshirt.

He came to a sudden stop, smile disappearing from his face, and he took a sharp turn towards the corner of the library where the stairwell led back to the bottom floor. You could barely hear the slam of the heavy door over the shattering of your heart.

By Thursday, you had fully convinced yourself to move on.

You had one last crying session with Wanda, over a bottle of wine and a mountain of good advice you would try desperately to take.

With a warm buzz, you felt light and airy on the decision to do better, be better, be stronger. No matter how many times you had told yourself the last time was truly the last time, you were convinced this was it.

Instead, Friday brought you a hangover and a text from Bucky.

Usual tonight?

You ignored it all day. You turned your phone off, shoved your laptop in a drawer, took away any form of communication you had with him. You spent the day catching up on reading you had been telling yourself you would get to for months.

It almost worked.

Wanda was gone for the weekend - she mistakenly trusted your promise that Bucky wouldn’t be coming over.

Because by the time the clock struck midnight, you texted him back.

For most of the next week, you didn’t see Bucky at all.

Monday it was a downpour, the sky black and the wind cutting your skin. You knew he skipped class on days like that. After class, you went for a run, watching the rain splatter on the window that looked over campus, and tried to push him from your brain. It worked.

Tuesday, in the early hours of the morning, you got a panicked call from your mom. Your dad was in the hospital and she needed help for a couple days. You packed a bag and got in your car, heading home without a second thought.

Wednesday you were so busy you didn’t think about Bucky at all.

Thursday, it was almost easy to block Bucky’s number.

Friday, you heard it.

Knock. Knock. Knock knock knock.

The pattern that let Wanda know to disappear into her room, where she could pretend she didn’t know what was happening. Bucky didn’t like anyone to see him there, even the girl who heard everything the two of you did through the thin walls.

The doorknob rattled, and you could tell he was surprised to find it locked. Every Friday before, it had been left open for him.

Evening your breathing, you opened the door and saw his confused face. Your thoughts wrestled between slamming the door shut and leaping into his arms.

In the end, you did neither, stepping back and letting him trail you to your bedroom.

“You never answered my text.” There was no emotion behind the statement. He said it like it was a simple fact, no different than telling you that your walls were grey.

“I know.” He sat on your bed like he belonged there.

“Why?” You backed away as far as you could, your back hitting the wall, your arms crossing over your chest like they could protect you from his words.

“Why do you think?”

“I have no clue.” You were in disbelief. He had no clue? No clue what you felt for him? No clue that he broke your heart a little more every time he came and went?

“I’m done. With us.” You tried to keep your voice from shaking, but there was still a slight waver. You wondered if he even noticed.

“What do you mean you’re done?”

“I mean I don’t want to do this anymore. Don’t want to see you. Don’t want you here.”

“Why?” So many why’s. So many sharp words he didn’t even know were cutting you deep.

“What do you mean why, Bucky? This isn’t fair anymore! You stay here all weekend, you slip in my bed and in me and then you’re gone by the time I wake up Monday morning. And every Monday I can’t hold my tears back, even though I know you won’t be here.”

“Baby, you -”

“Don’t call me baby.”

He looked genuinely shocked, and you knew why. You had never raised your voice at him. The two of you had never even gotten in any kind of fight; he didn’t care enough to.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just,” he stopped, seemingly gathering up his next words, “you knew what this was when we started.”

“And what is ‘this’? What am I to you?”

“You know what you are. You’re a… friend. With benefits. We said there were no strings attached.”

“No, you said there were no strings attached, and I went along with whatever you wanted because I knew this was as close as I could ever get to you loving me back.” The words flew from your mouth before you could catch them, and the tension that blanketed the room was so thick you felt like you could hold it in your hands.

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, the first time he had shown any true emotion since he walked into your apartment.

“Just forget it.” You took a deep breath. “Get out.”

His eyes held a thousand questions, and you didn’t want to hear any of them. He sat, still as a statue, just staring at you.

“I said get out.”

It was like the words awoke him from a trance and he stood quickly, stumbling past you as he made his way out of the apartment.

The weekend hurt - the first weekend you hadn’t spent with Bucky in you didn’t even know how long.

But you didn’t cry.

You thought that might be a good thing.

By Monday, you were truly feeling better - the first Monday you could remember not having an emotional hangover. You got up early and went for a morning run, and didn’t even have to push the thought of Bucky from your mind. Then you went home and showered and got ready for the day. As you walked to class, you held your head high, a ghost of a smile on your face.

You felt good.

Then you saw him again.

It was like deja vu, life in slow motion, a moment so perfectly timed you couldn’t even make it up in fiction.

You passed Bucky, the same as just a couple weeks before, talking to Sharon. Except this time, his arm was slung over her shoulder, a cocky grin on his face. Except this time, he actually looked at you, met your eyes in a stare, and his face dropped.

Except this time, gazes still locked, you watched each other, heads turned, until the moment passed and you were on your way, heart stilled in your chest.

Tuesday and Wednesday you couldn’t even get out of bed.

It was like the small modicum of progress you had was washed away with the rain that pattered outside your window.

You wouldn’t - couldn’t - eat, so Wanda resorted to bringing you glasses of water, making you sit up and drink at least two before she would let you go back to wallowing.

She was a good friend; you knew she would make you get out of bed eventually, and she would help you move on. And you would try.

Thursday, the door cracked open, and you figured it was her finally coming to drag you out of bed. Instead, Nat and Wanda walked in.

Without a word, then got into bed on either side of you, and held you until you couldn’t cry anymore.

The weekend was easier. You went out with your friends you had been neglecting. You didn’t see Bucky. You felt better, at least a little bit.

You thought that maybe you would always love Bucky - love the way he touched you, love the way he would lay in your bed for hours and talk about anything and everything, love the way you knew each other inside and out - but you could also move on.

It was possible, you just had to try.

Monday night, you were sitting on the couch watching old TV reruns when you heard a shuffle outside your door.

Knock. Knock. Knock knock knock.

#bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #angst #marvel'#mcu #tiff writes #friday i'm in love

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sariahsue · 4 years ago

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A Cat of Their Own - Ch 1

Sabine checked her phone again in anxiety. There hadn't been an akuma attack in the last two days, which meant that one would begin any second. She'd been telling herself that every few minutes since breakfast. Tom was playing video games with Marinette, hunched forward over his controller. He was supposed to be getting information out of her, but it didn't look like he was trying too hard. Sabine watched them while she stirred the soup. Steam rose off the surface in faint curls and twists.

The phone screen lit up, and she grabbed it. An emergency alert. An akuma had been spotted. Civilians were advised to shelter in place until Ladybug and Cat Noir had dealt with the problem.

It was the same message that she'd read dozens of times (and ignored more often than that), but now it made her mind numb with fear. But she had to go through with their plan.

"Oh, there's another akuma attack." Her voice sounded hollow and forced. To her dismay, Marinette immediately paused her game and turned around, eyebrows pinched with concern.

"Where is it?"

"Parc Montsouris," Sabine said. "I just got the text."

Marinette looked out the window, her face steely, game controller forgotten next to her. Tom and Sabine shared a worried glance.

"Dinner won't be ready for another half hour," Sabine said, then took a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking. This was the most important stage of the plan. "Did you finish all your homework?" Please. Please, say yes.

"Oh, uh, now that you mention it, I do remember that I forgot to do something." Marinette waved goodbye quickly, then bolted up her stairs, letting the trapdoor thump loudly behind her. Sabine came to sit next to Tom, soup completely abandoned.

"It's looking likely," he said. Sabine could only nod. Her fingers were cold, and she flexed them to try to bring life back to them, but it didn't help. Her whole body felt numb, and she wondered if she would actually go into shock.

Tom reached for the remote and switched to the news. Cat Noir flitted across the screen, fighting a giant frog monster by himself. He jumped off window ledges and rolled across the empty street to avoid a steady stream of some type of red projectile.

The camera was far away, and the angle was bad so it was difficult to tell, but he looked like a teenager himself. He was thin and lanky, like he was in the middle of a growth spurt.

"We could still be wrong," Tom said.

Nod.

Ladybug swung into view amid scattered applause. Cat Noir dodged a jet of steaming red goo that shot out of the akuma's wide mouth and shouted hello to his partner. She waved back, her cheerfulness jarring against the backdrop of the fight and Sabine's own dread.

"Do you want me to check?" Tom asked.

She couldn't even nod. The screen had her transfixed. She barely registered the shift of the sofa and the creak of the floorboards under his footsteps.

Tom reached the top of the stairs. "Marinette?" No answer. He knocked on the trapdoor, and it sounded hollow. "Marinette?"

Sabine closed her eyes as the trapdoor creaked open and Tom's footsteps disappeared into their daughter's room.

Faint screams and gasps from the television filled the room while Sabine sat and waited, holding her breath. She didn't even hear Tom come back down.

"She's not there," he said, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand. "And the skylight's propped open."

She squeezed back tightly. "That basically confirms it," Sabine finally said. "Our daughter is Ladybug."

Tom sighed. "Yeah."

On the screen, reporters were running for shelter, hiding behind cars and in recessed doorways, Cat Noir was yelling at civilians to stay out of the way, and bright red puddles sizzled on the cracked pavement.

"What are we going to do?" Sabine asked. "How did this even happen?"

The questions she wanted to ask were why Marinette had never told them, and how could they have not noticed for so long? How was Sabine supposed to keep her own child safe?

The camera shook as the crew set up again, much farther away, but Sabine wished they could do one closeup shot of Ladybug's face. Maybe they'd made a mistake. One good look at her face, and Sabine would be able to prove herself wrong about the superheroine's identity.

The battle had looked fine up close, but from a distance it didn't look like it was going well. The super duo was on the defensive and having a hard time avoiding the frog's goo. The akuma had covered most of the available surfaces already, so they had fewer and fewer places to safely land. Ladybug hung from a lamppost. Cat Noir was just above her, perched on top of the light her yoyo was connected to.

The cameraman crept closer and closer, finally stopping when he was a mere twenty feet from the fight, and Ladybug yelled at him. Sabine squinted at the television, but the image changed too fast, focusing instead on the monster. It was a little smaller than a car. Its muscles rippled as it stalked toward the two heroes.

"We should turn this off," Tom said, though he made no move for the remote. "She's going to be fine."

"No, I need to watch."

They flinched and gasped for the next few minutes, and Sabine shrieked when Ladybug slipped and got hit in the chest. It knocked her to the ground, but she sprung back up before Cat Noir could reach her, even though he ran at top speed, ignoring the spray aimed for him and almost getting hit himself.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine just... Ugh! Gross!"

"You could say you're in a sticky situation," Cat Noir said, before laughing loudly at his own joke and his partner's predicament. Sabine's heart was still pounding as she clamped down on Tom's hand.

Ladybug's face tightened with the effort of holding in her laughter, then scooped a bunch of the stuff off her stomach and reached to touch him. Thick strands of it hung off her fingers.

"Oh no, not slime!" Cat Noir jumped back, dodging both Ladybug and the akuma, who shot another mouthful at them. "Slime! Whatever will I do?"

Tom pulled Sabine closer. "Well, it doesn't look like a very dangerous one."

She was sure he was trying to reassure himself as much as her, but she wasn't having any of it. "They should be taking this threat seriously," she said. "If they're overconfident..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, so it hung in the room along with her dread.

Sabine was unfortunately right to worry. The frog reared back on its hind legs and came down on the street so hard it cracked the pavement, letting out a wide stream of the goo. Ladybug, still distracted with teasing her partner, didn't react fast enough. Cat Noir did, and he jumped forward fast enough to shield her, though he got a faceful of slime. He spat it out on the ground while Sabine and Tom leaned forward in their seats, desperate to know if he was all right.

Ladybug just patted him on the back and laughed while he wiped his face with both hands.

"See?" Tom said. "See? He's fine. They're both fine."

"That thing can break pavement. What if it had landed on them?"

But the atmosphere changed as their daughter laughed with her friend. They seemed so earnest in their amusement and maybe even relaxed. The voices of the onlookers and reporters changed in response, becoming less strained. A few people laughed along with them.

The news report itself even changed. Cat Noir tried smearing the goo on a camera as a warning when it got too close, smiling the whole time, while Ladybug rolled her eyes at his antics.

Her parents watched their exchange in interest. Despite the levity they were injecting into the fight, Cat Noir was obviously still very protective of their daughter, which they were both grateful for. He pushed her out of the way of another jet of slime when she was distracted by her own Lucky Charm, and he didn't hesitate to continue fighting without her while she took a few minutes to set up a trap for the monster. They didn't miss the adoration on his face as he watched her.

Ladybug – Marinette – was protective of her partner too. When the monster got too close to him, she would yell out a warning. When it landed on top of him with another sickening crack, she dropped the trap she was crafting and leapt forward to wrench the monster off of him. To anyone else, Ladybug still looked calm and in control, but to her parents, they saw the panic that briefly flashed across her face when she realized her partner might be hurt.

That delay made the fight take a little longer than it might otherwise have been. At the end, Ladybug dashed off, hand over an earring. Cat Noir waved at her as she left, a hesitant smile on his face, then turned and comforted the frog victim, who was now nothing more than a disheveled and confused-looking man in his fifties.

"She'll be coming home soon," Tom said. "Should we go up there and wait for her?"

"Not yet," Sabine said.

The reporters were trying to get close again, no doubt to interview Cat Noir and the latest victim. The poor man looked shaken, and Cat Noir did his best to shield him from the reporters, finally picking him up and carrying him away.

"We need to talk to her about this," Tom said.

They fought against impossible odds with laughter, though they were both just children. And Cat Noir cared about their daughter so much, that was plain. How deep did that go?

"We need to talk to him too," she said.

Read Chapter Two

***

Author’s note: This is a reblogging of an old thing that I originally posted two years ago. I’ve altered it slightly. (Content-wise, nothing is different.) If you’re curious, the original can be found here.

Chapter two is almost completely done, and I think chapter three is in okay shape, so hopefully those updates will both be next week.

@tbehartoo @redhoodsdoll @salsyy301 @lunadensmidnightprowl

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #i've been saying for two years that i've been meaning to finish this story #I'M GOING TO FINISH IT

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moonbeambucky · 4 years ago

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Hey Neighbor (Part 25)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 6423 Warnings: mention of injuries, fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 24 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Time stands still like the eerie calm of the earth before a storm and in less than the blink of an eye things move all at once. The clouds break open with the downpour of your tears, a tornado sends you in a dizzying frenzy to change your clothes, hellish winds are unleashed that blow you across town so quickly you nearly forgot to take your phone with you as you scrambled out of the Uber that raced you to the hospital.

Sam’s call was brief. Bucky was brought into the emergency room by ambulance, fading in and out of consciousness from a car accident. Sam nearly went into shock himself seeing his friend littered in cuts and scrapes. You didn’t have time to ask much else, barely even changing out of your pajamas. You swapped thin bottoms for leggings, quickly grabbed your bra and threw a hoodie over it all, not thinking about how your hair looked or bothering to pick out the crust that just began to take root in the corner of your eyes. You grabbed a bag tossing in your keys and wallet and clutched your phone in hand to run downstairs.

The fluorescent lights are blinding as you enter the hospital, searching for Sam through the chaos of chatter and noise. The beep beep beep of machinery all around you, coughing, crying, moaning wails from people that want help or attention or just a place to sleep off their drunkenness. The ER was a maze you knew every route of but your mind pushed the knowledge out needing more space to panic.

Where is Bucky? Where is Sam?

You remembered the nurses’ station, sprinting towards it and happy to see a familiar face that does not recognize you right away. You didn’t expect Stacie to; you looked quite different when you were not put together in professional clothes and on the verge of bursting into tears and throwing up at the same time.

Together you quickly found Sam, unable to hold back the dam when you saw him and asked about Bucky.

“He went up into surgery.”

“Surgery!?” you cried out. “Is he going to be okay? Sam what happened?”

He let out a long and heavy sigh. The harsh lights above were unkind, showing the depths of the circles under his eyes.

“His leg is broken and he has some internal bleeding but we stabilized him and…”

You knew how hard Sam works, how everyone in this hospital works, getting an up close experience from your time there so you hated to be this person, frantic and begging for answers that he didn’t have.

“Doctor Palmer is an excellent surgeon. I’m gonna call her assistant now to let them know I’m sending you up.”

You nodded, biting your lip and roughly wiping away fresh tears. Sam pulled you into his chest and you felt your knees buckle. Bucky had to make it through surgery, he had to! A heavy sob wracked through you as you thought of the worst. Sam squeezed tighter, wishing he could stay with you upstairs through the surgery. Hell, he’d scrub in himself if they’d let him just so he could say he’s done everything to help his friend through this.

“I’ll be up when I can,” he promised, walking you towards the elevator.

You forced a worried smile. “Thanks Sam. Do you know… did anyone call his parents?”

Sam clenched his jaw as he thought about it. “It was pretty crazy in there, I’m not sure. I could fi–” He was interrupted by someone calling his name and you knew you had taken too much of his time already.

Your stomach dropped as the elevator went up, bringing you to an unfamiliar floor with unfamiliar faces that made you feel like an unwelcome stranger in someone’s home. You let the staff know you were here for James but a by-the-books nurse wasn’t keen on giving you information. Without thinking straight you had stupidly answered no when they asked if you were family, and when you asked if Bucky’s family was called she wouldn’t tell you.

You exhaled a deep, calming sigh, not wanting to yell at the person that was just doing their job, but as you sink into the uncomfortable chair you can’t help but silently cry to yourself. This woman doesn’t know how badly you need to know if Bucky’s okay. She doesn’t know that you spent the last few months ignoring him and wishing you could take it all back. She doesn’t know how much you miss him, how you love him. Even though he broke your heart you couldn’t help yourself from gluing the pieces back together and you needed to tell him, maybe you couldn’t tell him the truth but Bucky needed to at least know that you didn’t hate him.

The clock ticks away slowly and no one has come to speak with you. You stare at Winifred’s profile. She hasn’t updated her status since late in the afternoon. Does she know? Did anyone call them?

You decide they need to know, they need to be here just in case. A wave of nausea rolls over you at the thought and suddenly you become dizzy in your seat. You’re hot, sweating in the hoodie and yet you push on. Shaky fingers google his parent’s names and hometown in the hopes they are listed. You find a number, hesitant to call at this late of an hour. Rebecca was a few hours behind, and you debated messaging them in hopes of a fast reply. Should you do that? Should you be doing this at all?

Fuck.

If you had some answers you could at least feel a little better about all of this. You messaged Rebecca on Instagram telling them what happened and leaving your number. Your cheeks burn like lava as you rest your palm against them, dialing the number that google provided which may or may not be correct.

The phone rings and rings, and with each unanswered ring your stomach twists a little tighter. Relief comes but only slightly by way of Winnie’s bubbly voice prompting you to leave a message. Your voice shakes as you do, letting out a strangled cry as you leave them the limited details you knew about Bucky. Are they sleeping?

It doesn’t take long before your screen lights up with a number you don’t recognize and you were relieved to hear Winnie’s voice. Someone did call her and George, and they were on their way to the hospital.

“Rebecca sent me your number. I’m so happy you’re there. We’ll see you soon sweetheart,” she said, with sobs in her voice.

After hanging up you saw a message from Rebecca repeating what you already knew. They asked if it was okay to call you and you were thankful for the distraction. Together you tried to comfort each other, worrying about Bucky making it through surgery, about their parents driving with little sleep and so much on their minds.

“They’re here,” you said spotting George first from down the hallway, “I’ll call you back.”

It had been at least a half hour since their call and getting up from the chair was slow, your body ached from sitting for too long but you didn’t care. George and Winnie wrapped you in their arms, tears flowing as you embraced. The tears poured a little harder as you gripped them tightly, realizing how nice it was to see them again but wishing desperately it was under different circumstances.

George withdrew first, going up to the desk to let them know he was there. Winnie cupped your face softly, her hands were cold but it felt good against the heat of your skin. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile that released more tears down her reddened cheeks, her eyes already swollen and full of spidery veins.

Together you waited. Talking, pacing, crying, waiting, waiting, waiting until a short woman in green scrubs called out for the Barnes family. The three of you jump up and you feel immediately sick, holding on to Winnie’s arm as you try to read the expression of the woman before she said anything.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes my name is Doctor Palmer, I was the surgeon who worked on your son James.”

Winnie held your hand a little tighter, squeezing as every second went by until Dr. Palmer said he was stable and in recovery.

“He came in with blunt force trauma from a crash. He fractured two ribs and there was some internal bleeding from his spleen which we were able to repair with arterial embolization. However, James had a severe compound fracture of the tibia. We debrided the area and secured the bone with plates and screws. James is in the post op recovery room and he’s awake but not fully lucid.”

A collective sigh of relief filled the waiting room, with mixed tears of happiness flowing freely again. The doctor said a nurse would come by to bring you in to see him shortly and you couldn’t wait. You didn’t know what you would say to Bucky or if he would even be alert enough to hear you but you knew it was time to let him know that the past is in the past and you want to move forward.

A beat fills the room, steady like a metronome to keep the rhythm but the sound is unfamiliar. Too soft for the drums, not high enough for strings. Quick, simple. Piano? No. The sound isn’t broad enough. Keyboard? Yes. Electric, synthy. But it still sounds wrong.

Bucky tries to open his eyes but his lids are too heavy, bolted down by invisible chains. He sees the light of the sun through them. He tries to lift his arm to shut the blinds but even they are too sluggish to move, heavy like they were coated in cement.

He feels the scratch of a rough blanket against his skin, vague thoughts cross his tired mind wondering the whereabouts of his comforter. His toes are cold, feeling like tiny icicles are hanging off them. His right foot drags against the mattress. Was it always this uncomfortable? It’s his left foot that isn’t covered, a sock that probably came off in the night.

In a state of half sleep Bucky tries to wiggle the icicles off and suddenly his whole body feels like it’s been set ablaze. The beat quickens. A terrible pain fires through every nerve. There’s a sharp sensation in his hand when he tries to move it making him wince. His left side has a dull stabbing ache that increases as he takes a deep breath. Bucky feels sore all over like he was just hit by a–

And then he remembers.

His breaths are shallow, the tempo moving rapidly like the hook of an EDM song about to drop the beat as Bucky replayed the scene like a movie. He left the premier’s after party in an Uber never expecting the violent jolt of an SUV t-boning the car into a traffic pole. Everything after was a blur. There were flashing lights, noise, a steady bright light, an angel with the face of Y/N.

Bucky’s eyes fly open in state panic as he looks around wildly at his surroundings. His leg is in a cast, elevated by a sling. Needles in his arm, tubes around his nose, wires everywhere. He felt like a mess, he could only imagine he looked even worse but then all of his worries fade away when he sees Y/N, the angel at his side.

You’re asleep on the chair, elbow propped up on the wooden arm with your head leaning against your palm. It’s not comfortable at all but you didn’t complain, it wasn’t important. It was nearly five in the morning when Bucky was moved to a room. The walls were a dreadful sage green that looked more like dirty money in the dim light of dawn. The room was small but the lack of a second bed for the time being made things seem a little larger.

George went off in search of a third chair for the room as you and Winnie pulled yours up close to Bucky, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Sam came up to visit after his shift ended, introducing himself to Bucky’s parents. The tackling hug Winnie gave him was unexpected by his sleep deprived body but he accepted it all the same, giving her a reassuring hug that everything would be okay. Before he left you whispered a thank you in Sam’s ear, for treating Bucky and giving you a call. You promised to keep him updated as told him to get some rest, he certainly deserved it.

Bucky slept peacefully as you watched over him, your head falling forward and jolting you awake every time you had begun to fall asleep. Winnie had already fallen asleep but you were fighting against your body’s needs. You stared longingly at Bucky, wanting to be awake in case he woke up. George put a gentle hand on your shoulder, nodding with silent permission that it was okay to shut your eyes. A large black cup of coffee aided him in keeping watch and so you blinked slowly, your lids growing heavier with every languid motion until they remained shut for the next few hours. It wasn’t until the sound of rapid beeps that you were alerted into consciousness again.

Your head whipped up quickly with concern at the sound that slowly began to steady, finding Bucky awake with an ever so slight tug of a smile on his lips that grew once you locked eyes. It had been far too long since you looked at Bucky, truly looked at him without anger and heartache clouding your vision.

The scrapes and bruises that littered his face did not hinder any part of his handsomeness. His lips were dull and slightly chapped and yet it didn’t stop you from wanting to press yours against them. You lifted your eyes towards his, feeling blessed to be able to stare at the most beautiful shade of blue once more. They glistened with unshed tears as Bucky gazed back at you.

Your own tears came instantly, falling down the curves of your smile as you leaned over him. Your name fell softly from his lips and hesitantly you lifted your hand, wanting to reach out and caress his face. You pulled it back, dropping your head for a moment, squeezing tears out of your tightly shut eyes. Bucky was a blur when you opened them again but he was there, he was alive and you were more than thankful.

“Hey neighbor,” you sniffled. “It’s good to see you.”

No longer caring if you should or shouldn’t touch his face, you wanted to. Your thumb gently grazed the delicate skin of his cheek, early stubble scratching lightly as you brushed against it.

Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling him smile against your palm. “It’s good to see you too.” His voice was strained, still dry from surgery.

You took Bucky’s hand in your own, careful of the IV sticking out. He asked what happened, knowing he was in an accident but unsure of the details afterwards. It was obvious his leg was broken but you told him the specifics– the emergency surgery to fix his break and stop his internal bleeding, how Sam had treated him when he came into the ER. He smiled at that.

“You broke a few ribs too.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised in acknowledgment. “So that’s why it hurts to breathe.”

Your lips pulled tightly across your face, wishing you could take the pain away from him. The tension released when you felt Bucky squeezing your hand as if he heard your thoughts, offering you comfort when he was the one that really needed it.

“Oh, your parents are here,” you remembered, though you looked around, unsure of where they went. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to contact Claire.” The shock of Bucky’s accident made you forget to text all your friends until the early morning.

His face twists with confusion. “Claire?” Did you really not know? “Claire and I have been broken up for months.”

Your lips move without sound as you try to process what he said. You didn’t know what to say, wondering if Bucky hid his breakup as you had yours. Now you didn’t feel as guilty holding on to the feelings in your heart. You’re about to blurt out the words, to tell Bucky what you couldn’t say back to Peter but the sound of Winnie calling his name stopped you and you turned to see her running up to his bed.

“James, you’re awake. We were so worried,” she cried in his ear, contorting herself around machines while being mindful of Bucky’s injuries.

George walked in with a cup of coffee for you and you thanked him, getting up so he could get closer to Bucky. The warm brew felt good going down even though it wasn’t the best, forgetting to warn them about the cafeteria’s lack of quality. Good thing you weren’t relying on this to keep you awake, not since Bucky shocked every cell of your body into full alertness with his news. Though you were happy to learn he broke up with Claire it still didn’t mean what you wanted it to and you were thankful you hadn’t scared him off with an “I love you.”

Pulling out your phone you saw a text from Wanda, featuring a block of caps locked screaming with question marks and sad emojis. You typed back an update about Bucky, looking over at him with his parents and back down again to the message that was still in the process of sending. It took a few minutes before the message decided not to go through at all.

You excused yourself, letting everyone know you were going to update all your friends about how Bucky was doing. George commented on the terrible service in the room so at least it wasn’t just your phone. You probably could have stood on a chair trying to force better service somehow in different parts of the room but you also wanted to give Bucky and his parents an opportunity for privacy.

“I’ll be right back,” you said with a smile, passing a woman coming in with flowers for the person who had been brought into the other side of the room early in the morning. Your gaze lingered back at Bucky one final time before leaving.

George shared a look with Winnie and staring at her son she said, “Y/N was here all night you know...”

With your phone in hand you follow it like it’s a map with five full bars leading you to treasure. It only took walking around the whole floor to find a good spot on the opposite side of the building near a window for your text to go through. In between sips of coffee you recorded a message for everyone on the group chat, it was so much easier than typing it out and you were still very tired.

You decided to finish your coffee there, giving Bucky and his parents more time as you stared out the window at what looked like a bright and beautiful morning. A slew of notifications came on your phone as half the people responded. Clint was probably still sleeping but Natasha replied asking if Bucky needs anything. Though Peggy was in England she asked if there was anything she could do. Steve wondered if he wanted visitors and asked you to pass along his get well wishes. You typed back that you would find out, promising to keep in touch as the day went on.

When your cup was empty you tossed it into a nearby garbage can and headed back, not expecting to hear your name being called.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You turned to see Elena, concern etched on her face as she held onto your shoulder. Embarrassment washed over you as you remembered how you looked, feeling even worse when you realized that earlier in the week Elena was technically your boss.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay. A friend of mine came in last night, car accident. I’ve…” you took a moment to yawn, covering your mouth, “Excuse me, I’ve been here all night.” You slapped your face lightly to wake up, now wishing the coffee had been stronger. “He’s going to be okay though,” you finished.

“He? Is this Bucky?” she wondered, and you were surprised she recalled his name since the wedding was months ago. You sighed, nodding slowly as your lips pulled into a soft smile. “I hope everything works out.”

Elena hugged you before she turned around to see a patient, reminding you she was here if you needed her. It was really nice to know she was there for you, Elena had become more than a mentor in the time you’ve worked for her.

Heading back in the room you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face when you saw Bucky. The few minutes apart you spent were more than you ever wanted to do again. George moved down a seat so you could sit closer to Bucky, letting him know everyone was asking about him, wondering if he wanted visitors.

Bucky sought your hand again, smiling as your soft touch helped to ease the discomfort he was feeling. It would be nice to see friends but he was more than happy you were here with him. It wasn’t long before a nurse came in to check vitals and Bucky was relieved since he definitely could use more pain medication.

Winnie asked you to join her to get food since no one had really eaten and even though you didn’t want to leave Bucky you weren’t going to say no to his mother. Besides, you needed to steer Winnie away from the cafeteria and the nurse seemed thankful to have less people in the room.

Bucky felt settled after a dose of painkillers, easing the radiating aches from all over his body. George poured a cup of water, handed it to him and set aside the pink plastic pitcher.

“How’re you feeling James?” he asked, forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was cry looking at the state of his son, from the deep purple bruises on his temple to the scrapes that marred his skin.

Bucky gulped down the water, quenching the arid condition of his mouth. “M’okay, a little better I guess.”

“Your head feels okay?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, no one said I hit it or– ”

“Are you sure about that?”

George leaned in closer, as Bucky squinted in confusion. His smile dropped and his eyes grew stern as he organized his thoughts into a more appropriate lecture despite the disappointing anger that bubbled beneath his skin.

“I really wonder James, because see Y/N, a great girl who clearly loves and cares about you and you let her go.” Bucky tried to interrupt, to fill in all the details he hadn’t told him in the past but George wouldn’t let him. “No son, there has to be something wrong with you if you can’t see it.”

“Dad, it’s… it’s complicated,” Bucky let out with a sorrowful sigh.

“James, real love is complicated. It’s wild and passionate as much as it is frustrating, but when you find someone that loves you as much as you love them it makes overcoming obstacles worthwhile. Love isn’t easy but it is easy loving someone that makes you feel alive, that makes life worth living and when you find that someone you don’t let them go. Don’t let her go, James.”

Bucky sits with the weight of his father’s words heavy on his chest. It had already been hard to breathe and now things felt worse. He doesn’t know the full story, how a stupid mistake ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He wants to make it right, to tell you everything not that it would change anything. Bucky assumed that since you spent all night waiting by his side that you at least don’t hate him anymore like you used to, so maybe your friendship can be salvaged. Still, it’s going to hurt him to see you in Peter’s arms but Bucky would rather have you back in his life because not having you there at all is far worse.

You come walking in with his mom, smiling and laughing and it’s such a beautiful sight. The smile on his face can’t help but grow. Bucky watches as his father wraps an arm around his mom, pressing a kiss to her temple. She smiles looking up at him, pulling out sandwiches from a deli you had come from.

“Ohh and someone wants to say hello,” Winnie said, pulling out her phone, trying her best to connect to Rebecca on FaceTime despite the shitty signal. The connection is spotty and Bucky ends up having a regular phone conversation with them. They were definitely happy to hear he was doing better.

After the call Bucky asked about his phone and his mom found the bag of his personal belongings in the closet. She grimaced at the lack of clothes, realizing whatever he came in with was most likely cut off him in the ER, thoughts of the whole ordeal bringing tears to her eyes. Underneath his shoes were his wallet and phone which she handed him, surprised to see the screen had not cracked.

Bucky attempted to turn it on but it was dead. Normally you carry a charger with you but in the rush to leave your apartment that was the last thing on your mind. Your own battery had just passed half its life but you didn’t really care. There was nothing else you needed to focus on today besides Bucky.

His parents stay into the afternoon, getting a chance to speak with the doctor and meeting Natasha, Clint and Steve who arranged their visit together. They left shortly after since the room had gotten crowded between everyone and visitors for the person in the other bed. You and Winnie hugged, squeezing tight for a lingering moment, fighting the urge to cry again out of exhaustion and relief for the night you went through together. George gave an equally strong hug, one that Bucky watched from his bed, overhearing his parents making sure you had both their numbers.

You looked just as tired as they did and Bucky knows you should probably go home. He wonders if you’ll leave when your friends do but when the time comes and Natasha is shrugging on her jacket you make no move to do the same, only getting up to hug them goodbye.

Alone again, Bucky finds comfort in the silence between you, as the speaker for the TV lays beside him filling the background with noise. He watches as you set up the cards he received on the windowsill, making sure Clint’s it’s going tibia okay card is angled so Bucky can see it and smile.

When dinner arrives he frowns at cold peas and carrots, eats the bland chicken and enjoys the soup more than he thought. Bucky urged you to eat something more than the bags of chips and nuts you had been snacking on since the sandwich you split between breakfast and lunch. You insisted you were fine but he forced you to eat his salad, assuring you he was not in the mood to have it.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky groaned through an exhale, his eyes squeezed shut as hissed an unconvincing “yes” through his teeth.

“I need more pain meds and…” he shifted as much as he could trying to ease his discomfort.

“And what? Bucky, whatever it is I can get the nurse in.”

“I… it’s embarrassing,” he admitted.

You smiled softly, leaning close to remind him, “Whatever it is can’t be more embarrassing than the time I nearly shit myself in front of you. Remember? All my trips running to the bathroom hoping I could make it on time?”

Crinkles formed around his eyes as Bucky smiled, chuckling before he realized how much it hurt to do so, at the memory of your food poisoning and the weekend he spent helping you recover. And now here you were by his side, doing the same.

“It’s uh, my…” He looked away, blushing beet red as he squeaked out, “...my catheter. It’s not great.”

An array of expressions crossed your face. “Yeah… I can imagine.” When you finally locked eyes with Bucky again you couldn’t help but smile awkwardly, offering to go get him a nurse.

It took a few minutes to return as you looked for the nurse, coming back with a surprise, Wanda and Sam. Wanda held back tears as she carefully hugged him and Sam couldn’t help but go into doctor mode and ask how Bucky was doing.

“I’m good. Alive thanks to you.”

Sam grinned. “I can’t take all the credit, but you are lucky. Very lucky.”

The nurse lumbered in, tired from a long shift but his demeanor changed upon seeing Sam, the two of them knowing each other well. Riley had praised Sam’s skills having formerly worked beside him in the ER for a while.

“Riley, this is my boy so please, whatever he needs make sure he’s taken care of, alright?” Sam turned to Bucky, “You good? Do you need a sponge bath?”

Bucky sighed, “No Sam, I don’t need a sponge bath.” He blushed with embarrassment, rolling his eyes at his friend’s teasing. “I would really like to pee on my own though.”

“Riley, call the stream team!” Sam shouted a little too loud.

Bucky instantly regretted his admission, pinching the tender bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “It’s nice they let you out for some fresh air Sam, that padded room must get pretty boring.”

Sam wore a toothy smile, happy to see his friend was still in good enough spirits to rib him back. He and Wanda stayed long enough for the shift change and though Sam didn’t personally know the next nurse he introduced himself and wanted to make sure Bucky was taken care of.

Once again you made no move to leave when Sam and Wanda did, getting up only to stretch. Your bones creaked like old wood, stretching out stiff muscles until you felt the slightest bit of relief. The chairs provided were not the most uncomfortable but after almost a day they definitely took a toll.

Bucky notices the way your eyes grow tired, how every action has slowed. You’ve been in the hospital nearly as long as he has and he doesn’t envy you, even with his injuries.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, stirring you alert. “It’s late, you should go home.” Your head shook before you spoke, opening your mouth to protest but he cut you off. “I’m good, I promise. You’ve been here all day and night, go get some sleep in a real bed.”

It would look stupid if you argued at this point, as you tried to fight back a yawn. Bucky asked you for a favor before you left, to grab his keys and bring some clothes and his phone charger tomorrow. “Only if you don’t mind.” Of course you would.

“Oh and one more thing,” he said, his eyes pleading up at you. “Call me when you get home. I need to know you got back safely.”

You nodded, smiling softly, before entering the number from his bedside phone into yours. Leaning down you pressed your lips against Bucky’s forehead, letting them linger against the warmth of his skin. Upon pulling away you shared a moment, smiling back at each other before Bucky took your hand.

“Thank you Y/N,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There was so much Bucky meant within those words and by the way you looked at him he believed you knew.

With his body on fire Bucky still rested easier than he had in the last few months, knowing at the very least he had you in his life again.

The subway rocks gently as you travel down the familiar route to the hospital, this time not worrying about making it on time to clock in but with excitement fluttering in your belly to be able to see Bucky again.

Last night you called him just before you went into his apartment, grabbing the few things he asked for and not lingering. You were a second away from crashing, having enough energy to plug your phone in before your face hit the pillow.

In the morning you showered, drinking a strong cup of coffee as you got ready. You didn’t bother with much but it felt good to look presentable. You grabbed Bucky’s things, texting people before you lost service underground. Rebecca thanked you for the updates and said they were looking to fly in towards the end of the week. George and Winnie would definitely be happy to see them again. They contacted you this morning as well, saying they would be seeing you at the hospital in a bit.

Bucky tried to keep himself occupied, shutting his eyes and eventually finding sleep for a few hours before the nurse needed to check his vitals. He stared out his window, watching the dark blanket of the sky slowly lift over the buildings, falling asleep once more before the next round of nurses coming in. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to heal if he can’t sleep but the doctor lets him know he should be released tomorrow or the following day.

It lifts his mood but the height of his spirits soar high above the atmosphere when Bucky saw you walking into his room. You look much more rested than he does and he’s happy about it. He savors your arms around him, feasting upon the scent of your floral shampoo, your smile bringing sunshine upon a gloomy world.

You put the clothes he asked for in his closet, taking his phone and plugging it into the nearest outlet, settling down again in the familiar chair beside his bed. You were just as excited to hear about Bucky getting released soon, the thought of him being just beyond your shared wall again was comforting.

After charging for a little bit Bucky asked for his phone, just to check a few quick messages. You got up to unplug it, the screen lighting up and making your mouth fall open. Bucky’s lock screen was you! Well, it was the two of you, from that time Winnie was testing out her new phone. It was a beautiful memory, a candid capture of a moment in time when you gazed into each other’s eyes, the corners of your mouths settled into a smile; two people holding back the feelings that were written so evidently across their faces.

You pretended not to have seen it, handing him the phone with the screen down. Bucky nearly forgot about the picture himself, his eyes flitting quickly your way as he tried not to breathe too hard and have the monitors give away his panicked state.

Your head was turned up towards the TV, watching The Golden Girls through the muffled sound of the speaker resting against the side of the bed. You couldn’t look at Bucky in the moment, not when you felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. No, you needed this time to collect your thoughts, to find the perfect words to express exactly how you felt and right when they were at the tip of your tongue you held them back.

Winnie and George walked in looking a lot better than they had yesterday. They greeted you both and settled in for the next few hours. They too were excited about his impending release, offering Bucky to recover at their home.

“No, ma I’ll be fine. The building has an elevator, I’m good.”

Worry crossed her face. “What about food shopping? What about bathing?”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “Well you’re not gonna bathe me if that’s what you think.”

You swallowed a chuckle, shifting your expression to a serious one offering your help. “For the food shopping,” you nervously added. Learning from the past, you shut your mouth to avoid the risk of digging yourself a deeper, awkward hole.

His parents left to get lunch for everyone since Bucky was sick of cold vegetables, and the two of you were alone again. He cleared his throat, licking his lips before asking, “You really don’t mind helping me?”

Your smile answered him before your words. “Of course not. Plus we still have a lot of pizza to try.”

You bit your lip watching the smile spread across his face, relief washing over him as things seemed to snap back into place as if nothing had changed. But Bucky forgot about Peter. You had been spending so much time with him this weekend he almost convinced himself things were different.

“Peter isn’t mad you’ve been gone all weekend?” Bucky asked, doing a poor job in hiding the uneasiness in his face as he anticipated your answer. He’s a glutton for punishment, reminding himself that things will never truly be the same again and little does he know how right he is.

“I broke up with him weeks ago.”

Your answer takes a moment to register, the realization hitting Bucky more than the impact of the accident. “Why?”

Haloed by the glow of the sun behind you, the words sang like the message of an angel, because there had to be some sort of divine intervention that brought all of Bucky’s dreams true when you answered, “Because he wasn’t you.”

A tear slipped down your face and Bucky lifted his hand, cupping your cheek and brushing it away. You cupped his hand against you, exhaling staccato breaths and smiling down at the man that brought music into a world that felt silent without him.

You leaned down, the tip of your nose grazing against his, your smile matching his as you closed the distance, pressing your lips together once more. The sound of love flooded your soul as you and Bucky found harmony at last.

EPILOGUE

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Are you still taking prompts? If yes, can you do a Starker one, where Tony is oblivious, and Peter doesn't know what to do, and ask for help to a close friend of Tony and they try to make him jealous by pretending to date and Tony is like of course he is with him he's everything i'm not and having a total breakdown and peter realize that they hurt tony instead and ask for forgivenes and end up together, pleasee? Thank you! If you aren't please just ignore this!

Against my better judgement, my prompts are never closed! Thank you so much for this super sweet/angsty prompt, Nonnie! I realised after finishing this that I never directly included Peter asking for forgiveness, but I hope this feeds you just the same! ❤

TW: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Self-worth issues | Jealousy | Alcohol mention

SFW

Harley Keener is two years Peter’s senior and nicer than Peter could have ever imagined. When Tony had first started to talk about the ‘the first one he pseudo-adopted’ and how Harley had grown into more of a ‘mini me’ than he could’ve imagined, Peter had felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut.

What if Harley was better than him?

What if Tony liked Harley more?

What if, with Harley around, Tony didn’t want Peter around anymore?

He needn’t have worried, though. Harley wasn’t as ‘outwardly’ nerdy as he was, but he was more than happy to gush over the latest Star Wars LEGO offerings, and Tony snarked them both in equal measure. It was surprisingly like having another Ned around, and it took less than a week for Peter to feel stupid for having worried about his place besides the two of them.

Tony even joked that Harley was the ‘prototype’ and Peter was the ‘updated model’, to which Harley had just rolled his eyes, knocked Tony’s spanner off the table like a cat and gone straight back to talking to Peter about ComicCon.

They became fast friends, and Peter supposed that was somewhat why he tended to forget there was a second person in the lab with them here and there, starkly (heh) reminded of it when Harley flopped down next to him on the penthouse couch one evening and said; “so how long have you been in love with Tony?”

He could have cried. The Avengers he was around almost every other day for the past two years brushed off his doting as a hero complex and ‘mentor crush’ and it had taken Harley Keener less than three weeks to call him out on its true nature.

Naturally and mortifyingly it ended up with Peter sniffling against Harley’s shoulder, wailing about how Tony was out of his league, how every single possible thing that could was against them, and how worst of all; Tony wasn’t interested.

“He’s interested,” Harley had shrugged, gingerly plucking a tissue from the box and holding it out to him. He’d been somewhat cryptic about the basis of his statement, but had enthusiastically proposed a manner of ways in which it could be proven. And Peter…

Peter agreed to one.

He didn’t know why. He wasn’t exactly a glutton for punishment and he certainly didn’t get his kicks out of being humiliatingly, crushingly rejected, but...But Harley had said so make jealous. Tony always wants everything, and when he thinks he can’t have something he just tries harder to get it and Peter had inexplicably said yes.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, Peter didn’t quite know which) the only real, viable option was...Harley himself. None of the other Avengers would work; since they were all taken, straight and/or highly unlikely to be receptive to fake-dating a teen half (or more) their age.

Neither Ned or MJ had access to the Tower or could really be around any SHIELD, Stark or Avengers activity, and that left quite literally no-one else but Harley.

“I mean, in a way, its perfect. I’m the grandmaster of the plan anyway, and you don’t have to wordy about hurting my feelings or me falling for you. We can collaborate flawlessly to get you some Grand-Daddy dick,” Harley hummed around the stick candy in his mouth, and Peter wasn’t quite sure what part of that sentence offended him the most.

“Does literally nobody want me?” he pouted, bottom lip pushed out dramatically as he kicked Harley’s leg out of the way and picked up the PS5 controller.

“Hey, chin up, munchkin. You’re prettier than half the girls I know. I’m just not wired that way.”

“You’re straight?”

“I’m not anything. It’s like asexuality and aromantic, but both,” Harley pulled a face, clearly trying to remember the term, then shrugged. “Ah, I can never remember it. Anyway, point is, I’m not interested in anyone. You’re a little cherub, for sure, but you’re cute like a cat, not suck-my-dick cute.”

And, well. Cute like a cat? He considered that a high compliment.

Thus, Operation Get That Grand-Daddy Dick (Peter did not name it) was underway. They both agreed to keep it natural and subtle, since Tony walking in on them half-naked or all over each other was just likely to spook him off. They’d edge into it; hint that they were spending more time together, act a little cosier, maybe get caught holding hands after a week or two.

In truth, it wasn’t all that different to how they had been before, except that Harley made his smiles even softer, a little more secretive and let his gaze linger when he was sure Tony would notice. They sat and stood closer together than before, and here and there Harley would press a lingering hand to his back or arm.

They made sure when one or both left they secreted away just out of sight and took a little too long, standing close together by the elevator and making sure to hug ‘longingly’ (whatever that meant in context) should Tony happen to peek.

And yet for all his smarts, Tony didn’t seem to particularly notice anything amiss until the first time that he spotted them ‘romantically hugging’. Harley was actually a very good hugger, and they stood in front of the elevator together, with Peter facing it and Harley facing the lab. Harley had his chin over Peter’s shoulder and his hands low and tight on his waist, holding him close.

“Spotted,” Harley whispered quietly, and moments later Tony spoke up.

“Well that looks cosy.”

Tony’s voice was carefully level, no betrayal of emotion as Peter shyly disentangled himself from Harley, taking a step away as though caught doing something he shouldn’t. He didn’t have to fake the heat in his cheeks when he glanced up at where Tony stood, arms folded, and he fumbled with the strap of his backpack, glancing across at Harley before he gave Tony a meek smile.

“Um, I’ll-- I’ll see you Friday, Mr. Stark!” he chirped, shuffling around Harley and into the elevator. Tony was still staring at him as the doors began to close, and Harley turned, casting him a wink and a finger-waggling wave. Peter waved back sheepishly and the moment the doors were shut, he whipped out his phone.

[To: Thing 1] Did he look mad? It looked like he looked mad. Omg. U gotta tell me anything he says :// [19:31]

Harley did in fact text him back two hours later, though there wasn’t much to report. Tony had made a few flippant remarks that could either be parental interest or slight jealousy, and had dropped the subject after a short while in order to focus on his latest project.

Peter slumped. There was snails who had a faster moving love life than he did. With a groan, he stuffed the last of his anxiety snacks in his mouth and flopped back against his pillow to discuss the next step with Harley.

Social media was their next plan of attack. Tony followed Peter on Instagram and Twitter, and had his Snapchat even if the older man rarely used the platform, so they were going to up the pressure by hanging out outside of the lab (which they did anyway) and posting it to social media.

It was too soon to cancel plans with Tony to hang out with Harley (and frankly, Peter didn’t want to anyway) so they simply both made themselves unavailable on certain other days, or hung out together without mentioning it to Tony beforehand.

They got ice cream at the park, went to the art museum downtown, visited several different cultural/ethnic based stores and went to the arcade to kick ass at air hockey over the course of a few weeks, all while keeping up the poorly secretive touching and closeness at the lab.

And he’d still have more luck getting blood from a stone.

Tony seemed...Either completely oblivious, or just completely unphased. Whilst Peter caught him watching them here and there with an unreadable expression, Tony never directly asked them or overtly commented on what was happening. There was the odd, “enjoy the park yesterday, kid?” or “saw your post the other day, you should try this place next,” but never anything along the lines of what Peter hoped for.

Even Harley was starting to doubt his original statement that Tony was definitely interested.

Especially when Tony was the one who started cancelling plans, telling them both to ‘go enjoy themselves’ and ‘live the lives of young people’. He didn’t do it all the time, but here and there they’d both receive a text telling them not to come today. The lingering looks got longer and more weighted, but even so, Tony made no move in either aspect.

“I think I’m just gonna have to give it up,” Peter admitted to Harley one night over the phone, hanging upside down in his bedroom with the phone dangling on a web besides him.

“Maybe he’s just not ready for anything right now?” Harley suggested on the other end, between the frantic sounds of tapping buttons.

“Maybe-- Oh, hang on. I’ve got an inbound from JARVIS. It might be Avengers stuff,” Peter hummed, quickly twisting to tap on the screen to accept the incoming call from JARVIS.

“Hey, J. What’s up?” He greeted the AI, blinking at the call screen.

“Apologies for the disturbance, Mr. Parker, but protocol deems that when Mr. Stark is in distress I establish contact with someone on his emergency list in order to inform them.” The AI’s voice was as smooth and unhurried as ever, but Peter frowned at the screen.

“Distress?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker. Sir’s heart-rate is elevated and he is displaying significant symptoms of sadness, including light drinking, darkened lighting and angered viewing of your social media.”

“Angered viewing of my social media?” Peter echoed, fear ratcheting up as he dropped from the ceiling and moved to tug on a pair of shoes. Fuck, had he let something sip? Was there something in the background of his photos? Had someone figured out who he was? He was hopping towards the door on one foot when JARVIS spoke again, and he had to hop back to pull his phone down from the web.

“Why is he sad over that? Did I do something wrong?”

JARVIS was silent for a short while, as though the AI was debating on how best to respond.

“I... Believe Sir may be feeling lonely. Or unworthy of company. There have been a multitude of such instances over the past several years,” JARVIS replied after a pause, as Peter locked the web shooters around his wrist and tugged the Spiderman mask over his head to avoid any cameras, crawling out of his window and leaping out into the brisk air.

It didn’t take long to swing to the Tower, especially not when panic and concern had him pushing it, testing his muscles and leaving him slightly out of breath by the time he slipped onto the top landing console.

JARVIS directed him through to the penthouse and up the set of 12 steps that lead to the ‘upper level’ of it, to an open doorway that revealed Tony Stark sprawled out on his bed, staring blankly at his phone with a neglected, half-open bottle of whiskey loose in one arm, like a newborn babe.

“Mr. Stark?” he asked softly, and Tony’s gaze flit up to him, clearing immediately. His mentor cursed and jerked upright, almost sloshing the whole bottle over his bedding.

“Shit! Kid! Wh’r you doin’ here?” Tony’s voice was just hinting on slurred, the same easiness and lack of concentration that came when you’d had a shot too many. Or five. Peter’s heart cinched as he stared at Tony gingerly putting the bottle on the bedside table, at the redness of his eyes and the messiness of his hair where he’d been running a hand through it, over and over.

“JARVIS called me. He said you were sad,” Peter managed after a moment, hands wringing the mask between his fingers nervously. He’d never seen Tony like this, this...uncomposed. He looked haggard, tired and sad, and it made Peter feel empty and adrift, unsure of how to approach this new version of the man he loved.

“Fucking snitch,” the older man grumbled half-heartedly, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Shit. Don’t-- Ignore me, kid. Adults my age are entitled to a night like this once in a while. Go back home, I’m fine. Fuck, you didn’t leave Harley for this, did you?”

“Harley?” Peter parroted, brows furrowing as Tony waved a hand.

“Go on, kid. Get. Make the most of being young and pretty with someone young and pretty.” Tony reached for the bottle again and Peter found himself striding across the room, placing himself in the way of Tony’s outstretched hand and the whiskey. Tony’s fingertips brushed his stomach and recoiled like he’d been burnt by the contact.

“Mr. Stark, do you think I don’t want to hang out with you anymore?” he asked after a moment, voice fragile. God, he’d hoped to maybe make Tony a little jealous, but nothing like this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him. And he clearly had. There was nothing but rawness in Tony’s eyes when the older man looked up at him.

“I’m not taking it personally,” his mentor attempted to joke, but it came out bitter and too flat to land lightly. Peter’s heart cinched in his chest and he shuffled to sit on the edge of the large bed, teeth on his lower lip as Tony turned away from his gaze.

“Mr. Stark, I’ve never...I’ve never not wanted to hang out with you. Even if I have other friends, too,” he pointed out tentatively, and Tony scoffed lightly.

“You’re too good for a world like this, shortstack. For someone like me. You should be trailing after someone like Captain Uptight,” Tony muttered lowly, and Peter scowled.

“You’re not less better than he is. Both of you are good people. Both of you make mistakes. Both of you save the world.”

Tony’s brows pinched, and he breathed out something that just barely sounded like then why aren’t I good enough?

Making an executive decision, Peter toed off his sneakers and crawled further up onto the bed, picking up Tony’s arm and settling down against his side, curling up under his arm and wrapping his own around Tony’s waist.

He could feel Tony’s heart thumping wildly in his chest, could feel his breath hitch and the hesitant way that Tony let his arm settle over Peter, fingers curling in his hoodie.

“You are,” he offered simply, squeezing gently. “This is my fault. I was acting like a dumb kid, and I thought... I should’ve known that it was just gonna end badly.”

“Is being my mini-me really that bad?” Tony choked out, and Peter pushed himself upright, alarmed.

“What? No! Mr. Stark, being around you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t ever ever regret being around you! I just... I have to…” He trailed off for a moment, frustrated, then prayed to Harley for forgiveness and sucked in a deep breath.

“I’m not actually dating Harley. At all. He doesn’t like people that way. Any people. We’re not boyfriends and I don’t want to stop spending time with you to spend time with him. I like spending time with you and you’re still my hero. Tony Stark or Iron Man,” he stated firmly.

Tony looked at him for a moment, then looked away.

“You should be with Harley, kid. Or someone like him. Not someone like me. Not someone with my history. I’m a shit person, kid. All this Iron Man stuff hasn’t even wiped half my scoreboard clean. Someone like Harley... He’s the better parts of me. Like you. He’s worth your love”.

Tony seemed almost startled at saying that word, twitching a little before he attempted to turn away from Peter again, gaze finding the far end of the room like he wished he was anywhere but here.

Peter fidgeted, then sucked in a deep breath. “Please don’t hate me after this,” he fumbled out quickly, then rolled half on top of the older man, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as he leaned forwards.

The kiss was awkward and clumsy and couldn’t have lasted for than two seconds before Tony pulled away, eyes wide and voice rough.

“Kid, what-- You can’t--”

“If you say you’re not interested, I’ll respect that,” Peter interrupted. “Or if you say I’m too young or whatever. But if you say anything along the lines you of not being enough, or not being worthy, or-- or-- Or whatever it is you feel you aren’t... You’re wrong. The reason me and Harley were acting like that is because I was trying to make you jealous.”

“What-”

“And I know its dumb! I don’t it was childish and I never thought it would hurt you like this. But I’ve lo-- I’ve really liked you. For years. And I know you’re a lot older and we might never be able to be...To be...Normal. I guess. But I want whatever I can get with you, because you’re worth it,” Peter barrelled on, desperate to at least be heard before Tony kicked him out. Except when he trailed off Tony was just... Staring at him.

“It’s just... Hero worship. You still think I’m some magical superhero and you--”

“No offence, Mr. Stark, but you don’t know what I think. Not when it comes to you, clearly,” Peter cut in, cheeks heating at being so brash. Prior to this he wouldn’t have ever dreamed about being so direct and forceful against Tony.

Well. Not in any PG-rated sense, anyway.

“Just... We don’t have to talk about it now, okay?” eh offered, sliding off Tony just a little so he was back up against his side, wriggling around until he could grab the faux fur throw on the bottom of the bed, pulling it up over both of them. Tony remained quiet at his side, just watching as he got them both settled.

“Just... I’m gonna stay, alright? Right here. With you. Because this is where I want to be, and its where I’m gonna stay until... Until you tell me to leave.” His lower lip threatened to wobble with mounting emotion as he lay his head on Tony’s chest, feeling the thick ridges of his scars beneath his shirt.

A moment later, Tony’s hand settled lightly over his head, fingers sliding tentatively into his hair.

“And if I never tell you to leave? If I’m selfish and never want to let you go?” the other man whispered.

“Then I guess that makes us both selfish, because that would make me happy,” Peter mumbled into his chest, wrapping his arm tighter around Tony’s waist. The room went silent for a while, save for their breathing and Tony’s heart thumping beneath his ear.

“Okay,” Tony rasped after a moment, and Peter smiled.

“Okay, Hazel Grace.”

“...What?”

“Nevermind. You’re too old for that reference.”

“You’re a little shit.”

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years ago

Text

TPWP Introspective

Hey guys!! So, as you noticed, there was no update today either, like I had commented that I may try and do if possible. The reason I didn’t post today, though, is because I remembered that I wrote a little introspective thing about TPWP a few days ago that I wanted to post before the next chapter, if possible. I spent the last hour and a half intermittently touching it up (while also talking to friends, ha). I wrote this after waking up at five in the morning and not being able to go back to sleep, so I was fairly tired and rambley when writing it, ha.

Anyway, this is pretty long discussion about something that’s bugged me about TPWP for a little while, which is why I’ve made Taka so sexual despite not really thinking he would be like that in canon. In my attempt to write about that, my exhausted self also went into another problem I have with TPWP, which is the fact that neither Taka nor Mondo are really like their canon selves anymore. And while that was a purposeful thing, I never could pinpoint why, and I think I managed to in this post, so there’s that, ha.

Now, it’s getting late and I’m very tired, so I’ll add my introspective thingy in a read more. It’s about 5k words and goes over a lot about Taka and Mondo’s interpretation in TPWP.

Hey all! So, I wanted to go over something that’s been bugging me for a while in TPWP, though no one else seems annoyed by it. But I kind of am, so I just wanted to… I don’t know. Discuss it in case anyone else also has problems with it, but just isn’t bringing it up in comments. And the thing that I wanted to talk about is the fact that I’ve made Taka and Mondo so sexual in this story, despite this not really striking me as something Taka, in particular, would be like. In order to discuss all that, though, I have to go through a bunch of other explanations about what my main goal in this story has always been, as a kind of backstory. So, buckle up, my friends. This is a doozy.

See, while I didn’t have much of an idea when I started writing, the one thing I knew I wanted to play around with was the idea of dismantling Taka and everything that makes him tick. In the game, he is shown as a strict, passionate, highly motivated character, spending so much time studying and trying to better himself that he lost sight of who he is other than that. He doesn’t have friends and confesses to Makoto that he doesn’t even understand how people make friends through connecting over things like television, since he’s so detached from anything other than his goals. The writers even comment on how he is almost mad with his passion and righteousness.

That whole persona seems so unattainable to me. I’m someone who seeks ‘perfection,’ right? I’m a perfectionist and it burns me so much to know that no matter what I do, there will always, ALWAYS be faults in the things I create. I put myself and my creations against others and always find myself lacking. It burns me and makes me feel so… I don’t even know. Unhappy. Upset. Things like that. And I’ve gotten much better with this over the years, right? I accept that my work will not be perfect, and that anything I can create is enough since I created it and I enjoyed creating it. But the feeling is still there. The unhappiness. The discontent.

So, when I saw Taka and his madness to become better, I wanted to take that and see if I could deconstruct it. If I could break Taka down to his core, expose all of the secret little things inside of him that he must be hiding to present such a ‘perfect’ front, and turn it on its side. To give Taka reasons for his madness to better himself and then take it apart. Or, in other words, the entire premise I had for this story was to take Taka and break him down. And then, then I would build him back up. Into something less ‘perfect,’ less rules oriented, but a hell of a lot happier. Because in canon… Taka didn’t really strike me as happy. Not based on the things he would say to Makoto in both free time events and the school mode.

In order to do that, of course, I had to completely break apart the things that made him so rule oriented in the first place. And to someone who has spent almost their entire life building up this one persona, that sort of thing can be terrifying and uncomfortable. And it can lead to a lot of confusion and scrambling afterwards.

Chapter 17 was where I made the biggest break for Taka. I’d been chipping away at him for the first 16 chapters, and then 17 was the one where I took my sledgehammer and went to town. That chapter was the one in which Taka realized just how unhappy and discontent he had been growing up. He’d always stuffed that down and ignored it in order to keep going, forcing himself to ignore his pain so that he could become all that he wanted to be. He wasn’t even conscious of doing this since it was so deeply engrained in him by that point. Like I said in the very first chapter, Taka would run so fast and so fervently from his insecurities growing up that he didn’t even notice that they were occurring within him. Or if he did, he ignored them until it all went away.

In chapter 17, Taka stopped being able to run. His feelings for Mondo created a huge rift inside him and he didn’t know how to handle it. And then, after his conversion with his father, he realized that he’d been forcing everything down for all of his life, to the point that he didn’t know who he was. He wanted to be an upright, moral individual, but how could he be if he is in love with a man? How can he be when he can feel such impure, base desire for someone, a man especially? And I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with a man loving a man, not at all! Just… it went against the carefully constructed morality Taka, personally, had spent his entire life forcing himself to abide by, and that was a huge blow to him. He couldn’t comprehend it and he just… fell apart.

But he didn’t fall apart alone. Mondo was there to catch him as he fell, was there to help gather the pieces, and Taka latched onto that. He didn’t know what was happening or why, but he knew that Mondo was a vital component to all of it. In a way… Mondo was everything to him.

The main point is that I wanted to break Taka’s character apart, mostly because I cannot imagine someone being that moral and upright while not being completely miserable (or without actually being completely immoral, like all those people who preach righteousness while actually doing horrible things behind the scenes without care). There’s a sort of misery in enforced righteousness, especially considering how horrible the world can be. I liked Taka and I wanted him to be happy. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine him being the way he was portrayed in the game and also being happy. Maybe that’s just me projecting, but… I don’t know.

But deconstructing years of a carefully constructed persona is— like I said— terrifying. And for someone like Taka, whose entire life plan was crafted around a certain image? I can only imagine that would be like jumping off a plane into a black, inky darkness, no idea where you’re going to land. But Taka did that, because the only other option was to continue living with intense unhappiness, lying to himself to keep his sanity. But the problem with lying to yourself is that it gets so much harder once you know the truth. It can be done, of course, but it leads to even more unhappiness and pain and Taka… Taka realized that he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be in pain anymore. He… he wanted to be happy. Which is an incredibly hard thing to accept when you’ve spent years silently accepting your own unhappiness as a fact of life.

As such, everything that has occurred since chapter 17 has been Taka’s attempt at constructing a new personality, in a way. A personality that marries the beliefs and goals he has always had while also combining them with a new sense of happiness and contentment in his life that before now he’s never felt. And this… this is so, so hard for him to do.

And it gets harder when his and Mondo’s relationship shifts. When he gets a taste of something he’d previously not allowed himself to ever, ever feel. Which brings us to the questions of why, exactly, I put so much sexual content into this story, despite it not seeming like something Taka would really want to do in canon.

Because… it’s not about pleasure. Right? It was never about pleasure or desire. It was about Taka allowing himself to feel something that every human feels (or, you know. Not every human. But a lot). It was about making Taka acknowledge that he is feeling these ‘impure,’ ‘sinful’ desires and allowing him to feel it. And, of course, this can be overwhelming. Taka has never allowed himself to feel these sorts of things before, had always pushed them so far down he couldn’t even see them. So far down he could pretend they weren’t there.

But they were. They always were. Taka can feel desire and attraction. He can feel them just fine. The whole point of the sexual content was to show Taka that it is okay to feel like that and that it’s not wrong or immoral. That Taka can feel attracted to someone, a man especially, and not feel ashamed. But more than that, it’s about allowing Taka to acknowledge that can be who is he in general without shame. That he doesn’t always have to be ‘perfect’ or infallible. That he can just be… Taka.

The biggest problem in all of this, however, is the fact that Taka is not the only character in this story. He’s not the only one going through a metamorphosis. Because Mondo? Oh, you can bet your sweet behind I was making Mondo go through his own metamorphosis, too.

Because everything I said about Taka up until now? I also feel about Mondo. I view Mondo’s tough guy, biker persona just like I view Taka’s upright, moral one. It’s a facade. Something that is hiding what is truly going on under the surface. It protects their soft, gooey innards, keeping them both safe whilst also providing them a sense of being. Of belonging.

But it’s not healthy. Hiding behind a persona, not letting your true emotions show. It’s unhealthy and leads to, you know… pain and unhappiness. And Mondo… Mondo also strikes me as a somewhat unhappy character. His disconnect in the game is less towards other people, however, and more towards himself. Makoto acknowledges many times after speaking with Mondo during free time events that he has a hidden side to him. A softer, ‘cuter’ side that he tries (and fails, ha) to keep hidden.

Like with Taka, I wanted to break Mondo’s carefully constructed persona and remove this hidden person inside him. I wanted to bring that person to the surface, finally allowing Mondo to stop feeling like he has to hide behind anger and rage and being ‘strong’. I wanted… I don’t know. To allow Mondo to not feel so ashamed of his weaker side, I guess.

This was a lot harder to do than with Taka, though, for a couple reasons. One, I was not writing from Mondo’s perspective in TPWP, which means all of his metamorphosis was being seen through the eyes of another. Which is not always easy to portray, sadly. For another, Mondo has a huge reason to keep his inner self hidden and locked away. Taka’s reason is shame and a desire to prove himself, right? This, in my eyes, is fairly simple to deconstruct. All you have to do is find a way to remove the shame and realize that it’s okay to feel what you feel. And yes, this is challenging, but… it’s not impossible.

Mondo, though? What’s keeping Mondo back isn’t just shame and a desire to prove himself. No. What’s holding Mondo back is guilt. Mondo feels guilty for his weakness. He feels guilty that his supposed ‘weakness’ killed his brother. He feels guilty that this same ‘weakness’ is preventing him from telling the truth, from accepting the responsibility for his supposed crime. Mondo, in many ways, hates himself. In this story, at least. And guilt is a much, much harder emotion to deconstruct than shame. There’s also the fact that I made Mondo an abuse survivor, which adds another element into this all that I won’t get into since this whole thing is already much longer than I’d initially intended, oof.

Anyway. The point here is that both Taka and Mondo are going through this metamorphosis at the same time. And I did this purposely since I wanted to have them help each other grow. Right? Because I view Taka and Mondo as very similar characters. They both have a need to prove themselves and a sense of inner righteousness that guides them in what they do. They just took opposite paths in their expression of these things. But ultimately, at their core, Taka and Mondo are very similar in my eyes.

Honestly, that’s part of why I had them hate one another in the beginning (on top of the fact that they didn’t get along in the game at first either, ha). That was each of them seeing themself in the other, and absolutely hating what they saw. Because they hate themselves. Because they cannot stand the persona they’ve created. Because it’s such a painfully false front that it’s almost offensive to them to see it on another.

Chapter ten was my way of letting them acknowledge a sense of self love for the first time. By accepting the other as flawed, but still fundamentally good, it allowed them to see themselves in a somewhat positive light for the first time. To accept that this person they once hated with all of their heart is… not that bad when it comes down to it. And not only are they not that bad, but they’re actually kind of amazing, really.

I… hm. I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I am very tired and am kind of just rambling at this point. I guess I just… I wanted to acknowledge that I’ve changed both of these characters a lot from canon, Taka especially. And this change has been expressed in a great way in Taka’s increased sexuality. And that I know this, that I know this isn’t really what canon Taka would act like, but that’s kind of the point. As much as I love Taka as a character, he’s kind of one dimensional. All of the characters in Danganronpa are. I think, in a way, they’re meant to be. But when you spend time with them, during the free time events and the school mode, you begin to see a slightly more well-rounded picture.

But it… it still feels a little flat to me. A little hollow. So, in this story, I just… wanted to flesh out these characters that I like and see so much potential in. I wanted to take them, give them tragic backstories, and see if I could find a way to give them balance. To keep them somewhat the same as they once were, to not fully remove their canon aspects, but not have that be their sole, defining characteristic anymore. Taka is still the Ultimate Moral Compass, and Mondo is still the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader. But that’s not all they are. Not by the end of the story.

Now, did I succeed in my plan? I… honestly, I don’t know. This entire thing was never something I consciously thought of while writing. It was more… a desire of mine, which might be why I’m having such a hard time describing it here, ha. It’s up to all of you to determine if I succeeded in writing these characters in a way that respects their canon characterization, while also adding a sense of balance within them.

Also— not to sound pretentious (though I know I am, oof. I always am when dead tired, sorry)— but in a way, this whole story was a metaphor for self-acceptance and self-love. And allowing yourself to find peace in who and what you are, no matter what. I made Taka and Mondo literary parallels in this story for a reason, giving them similar backstories (Taka was abused by bullies and neglected by his father; Mondo was abused by his father and neglected by his mother. Mondo’s brother died, leaving a hole in his heart; Taka’s mother died, leaving a hole in his heart. Taka watched his grandfather fall from grace and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself; Mondo watched his brother die and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself… etc.) to showcase this metaphor, in a way.

And it… it was to show that them helping the other grow symbolizes allowing yourself to grow, too. It symbolizes taking all the harsh and ugly parts of yourself that you hate, seeing it in another person, and realizing you actually love them, really. It symbolizes showing kindness to yourself for your faults, something I personally struggle with. By having Taka and Mondo love one another so fiercely, even without fully knowing why… it symbolizes, in my mind, letting you love yourself.

And, like… I know how pretentious this sounds, ha. And I don’t think I really succeeded in portraying all of this, unfortunately. But I just… I don’t know. I love the idea of Taka and Mondo and I wanted to write a story where they love one another unconditionally, while at the same time learning to love themselves too.

In many ways, I wish I had made this story take place over the span of a longer amount of time. Three months is just… it’s too quick to do everything I wanted to do in this story. Like I’ve said before, this story was never meant to be so long, word count wise. And a lot of what I wrote about here was not really planned when I started writing. While I wanted to deconstruct Taka, I didn’t really realize how long that would take, oof. Or what it all would entail. I thought three months would be plenty of time in universe, but then more and more things started happening, and by the time I realized it would need more time to progress naturally, I had passed the point of no return, pretty much.

If I could do this story all over again, I think I’d make it take place over the span of a year instead. I’d start the school year in April, like it’s supposed to be in Japan, and extend the amount of time Taka and Mondo were enemies. I’d have them become friends shortly before summer break and when they come back, have them go through the beginnings of their friendship like I had it in the story, but allowing it more time to progress. Taka and Mondo would still have their fight on Halloween, since that’s kind of an important aspect of that chapter, but they’d have had a longer time to be friends before that occurred. And then, after that, they’d have their physical relationship progress a lot more naturally and less hurriedly, the relationship spanning from perhaps right before winter break begins to the end of the school year in Japan, which is March. It would give them more time to come to terms with everything and accept themselves.

Part of me honestly kind of does want to change around TPWP to do this, but it would change a lot of fundamental parts of the story, which would be a lot of work. And if I was planning on publishing this story, I’d definitely do it since I think it would fix a lot of the problems that I have with how this story progresses. Three months is not long enough to completely deconstruct your entire personality, really. A year is a lot better and makes more sense to me. But, as it stands, I… I like TPWP. Is it perfect? No. But… that’s kind of the point? Nothing is perfect and if I allow myself, I’ll keep digging myself into more and more holes with this story, and at some point, I just… have to acknowledge I did the best I could and move on. Also, I do think that having it take place over three months isn’t completely unrealistic. Not with how unhappy both Taka and Mondo already had been. And there are some things that would be unrealistic if it took place over a year, too, so… eh.

I really don’t know where I’m going with this anymore, dear god. I’m going to go back to my original point real quick and hopefully finish this now hour long, rambling rant I’ve for some reason been going on. Jeez.

So. The purpose of the sexual content in this story. It— like a lot of other things in this story— was more meant as kind of like… a metaphor. It’s not about the sex, it’s about self-acceptance. Taka spent so many years denying himself and his sexuality, fearing it and feeling ashamed of it. By allowing himself to be sexual and intimate with Mondo, he’s accepting that aspect of himself and embracing it. But, because he spent so long denying it, he doesn’t quite know when it’s too much. He’s spent his life pushing down his discontent and discomfort to become what other people want him to be, and as such, he doesn’t quite know where his own boundaries lie.

And I’m going to be quite honest with y’all: Taka doesn’t enjoy the sexual acts quite as much as he thinks he does. No, I’m not saying that Mondo is taking advantage of Taka, or that Taka hates what they’re doing, not at all! Just… Taka feels uncomfortable with the things he and Mondo are doing, but because he enjoys the sensation and enjoys being close to Mondo, he pushes down the feeling of discontent, like he’s done all of his life. He just… doesn’t know what else to do. He knows he likes being close to Mondo, knows he enjoys the things they do together, but can’t quite put his finger on the fact that he doesn’t really enjoy being sexual. That he only likes the sexual acts because it’s the only way he can be close to Mondo in the way he wants, both physically and— in a way— emotionally.

And part of Taka does realize this, right? The deep, deep, hidden part of himself that only comes out at night when everything else is silent. I call this the ‘introspective’ part. But this is a hard part of yourself to access and acknowledge. Especially when you’re young. I, personally, am a very introspective person. It’s why I can write about emotions and feelings decently, and why I am currently writing this little introspective about TPWP. But it was a lot harder for me when I was a teen to realize what that introspection meant. It’s why I didn’t realize I had undiagnosed anxiety until I was eighteen and in college, which was ironically a lot easier for me than high school was. It took me being out of the situation I was in to look at myself and realize exactly why I felt what I felt, even though I knew I felt that stuff much earlier.

Taka’s still in his bad situation, though. He’s still struggling with the desire of what he wants and what he’s forcing himself to settle for. And, basically, he doesn’t understand why he’s unhappy at being sexual. He knows on a base level that he is, but he can’t quite place his finger on the why. Which is, as I’ve said, because it’s not really what he wants. He’s settling for having Mondo in whatever way he can because he thinks he has to. But it’s not what he wants, and it’s honestly killing him inside to be so close to his desired outcome, but not have it. He hates that the only way he can have Mondo is in such a shallow, debased way, but he’s forced himself to believe that this is all he will ever have, and that he must be happy with it or else he will lose it, like he’s lost every good thing in his life before that point. And the thought of losing what he and Mondo have is just… it’s too much for him. He’s still figuring himself out, still building his new personality from the ruins of the old, and he kind of needs Mondo to help prop him up as he does this.

(Which is, by the way, unhealthy in a relationship. It’s very codependent and can lead to some negative outcomes in its own right. But this rant of mine has been going on for almost two hours, so I’m not going to get into this right now. Just know that I know, and that it’s not intended to be portrayed as a good thing. None of Taka’s coping mechanisms are, which is why they all fail in the end, leaving him discontent. But as of now, Taka kind of needs Mondo, so he’s overlooking the potential negative outcome and is just allowing himself to have Mondo. Make sense?)

In the end, the only way for Taka to fully come to terms with everything that is swirling within him is to have Mondo acknowledge the love they share for each other, since he can’t accept everything about himself until Mondo does. He needs Mondo to look at him, look at his flaws, and say ‘I love you no matter what. You are not perfect, but I still love you.’ And while Mondo has done this to some degree, it’s not the love Taka not-so-secretly desires. But, like I said earlier, Mondo is going through his own metamorphosis and isn’t quite at that stage yet.

All of this comes to a head in the last three chapters of TPWP. Does everything get resolved by the end? No. Of course not. There’s just not enough time for that. Discovering yourself takes years, really. And you never finish. Even if I had elongated the amount of time this story takes place to a year, there still would be things unresolved when the story ended.

That being said, the main problems both Taka and Mondo are going through reach a conclusion. I don’t want to go too much into this to prevent spoilers, but just know that everything I brought up here? Gets some form of acknowledgment in the last chapters and gets some manner of resolution. And everything else was initially intended to be resolved in sequels, which may or may not be written, who knows. But TPWP ends in a way that even without further writing from my part, I firmly believe that all of y’all can see where Mondo and Taka will go from here. That it won’t be easy, but that they will eventually figure themselves out.

So… yeah. That insanely long and complicated rant boils down to this: Taka and Mondo being sexual is not really about them being sexual but is about them understanding and accepting their love not just for one another, but for themselves, too. It’s a catalyst. And I didn’t go over Mondo’s views on this all, and I won’t since this has gone on so long (plus I’ve not written Mondo’s perspective on those chapters yet, so even I don’t fully know, though I have ideas), but believe me when I say it’s more than just sex for him, too. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t really want to categorize this story as explicit at first, since it’s never been about the sex to me. It’s… more than that.

I don’t know if any of this made any sense, but I think I’m going to stop now. Maybe I’ll go back when I’m less tired and expand on this (and I’ll let y’all know if I do, writing after this break if I added anything or not) (I added a little to some parts and took out a couple of parts, but mostly this is the same thing I wrote between 5 and 7 am when I couldn’t sleep, ha), but for now, I’ll leave it.

And— final thing (that I added after trying to fall back asleep and failing, ha)— maybe I’m being more pretentious about my writing than it deserves. Maybe I’m saying all of this to try and excuse the flaws in my writing, like I always do internally. But… I don’t know. This is legitimately the sort of thing that went through my head whilst writing. I knew I wanted to put these elements in my story, even if I wasn’t consciously thinking about it, but trying to do all of that is just… hard. And I’m limited as a writer, I’ll acknowledge that. My thoughts are too big for my head and trying to write them all down is complicated for me. It’s why this little introspective is so long and rambling. It’s my way of trying to not just get you all to figure out what I mean, but also get myself to understand it. Because, while I know what I mean on an abstract, metaphysical level, I don’t really understand it all myself in a concrete, definable level. And this rambling is me trying to make sense of that. Does… does that make any sense at all? Or is this just gibberish? I don’t know. I think I understand it, but I have no idea if anyone else will. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway. I hope this didn’t come across as too pretentious or like I’m trying to show off how ~~intellectual~~ I am. That’s not my intention at all. It’s just… it’s how I think. And it’s how I show myself to the world, in a way. My written work is always so personal to me. I put a lot of myself into my work, sometimes intentionally, but often unintentionally. And I’m not saying I went through any of what I put Mondo or Taka through. In fact, almost none of it relates to my life at all. I was never abused by anyone, nor was I bullied in school. I have a fairly good relationship with my parents and was well liked by my classmates, even when I didn’t really go to class often due to illness. I am not impoverished, nor have I ever really faced high expectations from family or the people around me. I’ve never really had to anguish over my sexuality, since I accepted myself as asexual pretty easily, though I still struggle to be open about it with everyone. And I’ve never lost a loved one.

So… no. It’s not that I’ve gone through what the characters have gone through. But… the emotions. The feeling. All of that… it’s me. Even if it’s imagined or created, I feel everything that I write and put down. It’s why angst comes more naturally to me, since I’ve felt a lot of negative emotions in my life. And most of it is self-inflicted. Like… I mentioned that I never had high expectations from family, but I did from myself. I expected so, so much from myself, and I still do. And while I was always well liked by my peers, I still felt alienated from them, like I… I don’t know. Didn’t really belong. And I feared that if they ever got to truly know me, THEN they’d hate me, and that was just… I don’t know. Too much for me. The thought that these things could happen. That I could have good things and then, through my own personal failings, lose them.

These fears are where I come from when writing. My fear of being hated and isolated. My fear of never being enough. My fear of letting everyone down. My fear of always being alone and losing the people I love. I write about it in my stories and I… I find a way to fix it. To show myself that even if something like that did happen, it… it can get better. You can still be loved even if you are flawed and kind of broken inside. And maybe I don’t believe that I ever will find love, maybe I can’t believe that anyone would look at me like that if they truly got to know me, but it’s still nice to read about it. To see my fears in characters I love and have them be okay in the end. It’s why I always like to have at least somewhat happy endings in my stories. I need to see that it’s okay. That even if the worst-case scenario happened… I’d still be okay.

(Also, I know people are going to ask this, but please know that yes, I am okay. I get like this sometimes, where I think a lot about stuff, and it can be overwhelming, which is why I write it down. It’s funny that I’ve never had a diary or journal, since it seems like something that would help me, but writing things down for my personal perusal never made sense to me. It’s why I always post things like this. It’s really personal, but it helps me feel better. Like I’m being understood in some way. So, just… know that I’m doing alright. I just wanted to try and explain something that has been bugging me in this story for a while now that I finally found the words for. And by letting it out into the world, I can remove it from my chest, I suppose. But introspection doesn’t really upset me much. It’s cathartic more than anything. Painful and confusing while going through it but relieving once it’s done. All I ask is to be heard, that’s all. And understood if possible. If you’re willing.)

(Also also, please know that I wrote this little introspective several days ago while very tired, and I’m over this burst of emotions by now mostly. So, again, I’m really okay. And I’m not pulling a Taka, trying to pretend I’m doing alright when I’m not. I do mean it, ha.)

(Also also also, but y’all can see where I get my writing style from when looking at this, ha. This is basically my thought process written down, which is why TPWP is written the way it is. I write like I think, which is long, rambling, and emotive. Just a little fun fact. ^-^)

#Random ramblings #TPWP introspective

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scullydubois · 4 years ago

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Only the Light: Ch. 21

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

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As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved.

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her.

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift.

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth.

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need.

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue.

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now.

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning.

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them.

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons.

Mulder just gives her a look.

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room.

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open?

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

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

The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him.

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak.

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out.

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive.

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose.

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets.

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness.

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.”

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary.

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm.

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly.

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

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

Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night.

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning.

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old.

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him.

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it.

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.”

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?”

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly.

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

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

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask.

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open.

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly.

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.”

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips.

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.”

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this.

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls.

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies.

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies.

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

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

Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain.

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother��s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him.

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him.

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

#sincerely hope i did the lone gunmen justice lol #also i feel like this chapter is...a normal episode amount of angsty instead of the slow paper cut of the last chapter #the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine #eww this looks weird w/the tumblr update!!#read it on ao3 lol

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softslashers · 4 years ago

Text

Wildflower.

Pairing: Flower Shop AU! Asagiri Gen x Reader

Word Count: 1,798

Summary: Gen runs a flower shop; Y/N comes in to buy some flowers and can’t help but be drawn in by his mischievous smile. They find themselves coming in more often than they truly need flowers.

Warnings: None that I can think of, its pretty wholesome.

A/N: Important to note that I already posted this on AO3 a little over a week ago, read it here! I plan on coming back to this blog and doing more, I think limiting myself to just slashers kind of set me up for failure tbh. I’m going to expand to a few animes/mangas I like, but there will be a lot of villain/slasher content on this blog still!! If you want to unfollow I totally get it!! I’ll post some updated rules later tonight!

Spring had finally arrived and brought with it all the best parts of the year. The weather was pleasant when you had left the house that morning, electing to spend your day off taking a walk around the town that you had moved to only weeks ago. There was so much you wanted to see, but the busyness that comes with moving and starting a new job had left you unable to experience the town you now called home. A cool breeze brushed past you as you stepped out, it was cool, and the sky was dotted with clouds. Taking a deep breath in, you watched as leaves and freshly bloomed flower petals floated in the air, stepping forward, you allowed the wind to carry you along with them down the street, towards your destination.

There were many small buildings that lined the streets of the town: boutiques, family run restaurants and cafes, even a little flower shop that seemed to catch your eye every time you passed on your way to and from work. You had wanted to visit all the shops in the area, help support the local businesses and grow acquainted with the flow of people in town. Unfortunately, over the weeks that had passed since your arrival, you had only managed to visit the nearest grocery store. You decided that you would make the most out of the day, visit as many places as you could, and treat yourself while you were at it.

The first store you had wandered into had not been too special, it was a small clothing boutique that had clearly recently stocked for the spring weather that was now upon you. Nothing in particular caught your eye. A bookstore was next, everything they sold was second hand, and you ended up making out like a bandit. This continued for a few hours, weaving in and out of stores, slowly accumulating more bags as things caught your interest. Eventually, you had worked up enough of an appetite to decide to stop in one of the cafes in town. Purchasing yourself a small meal and a beverage, you finally took notice of just how sore your feet had gotten from all the walking you had been doing. As you took a seat at one of the tables, you decided that you should be heading home soon, and after you finished your meal you would only allow yourself to visit one more shop.

It had not been a difficult choice in the slightest. You had been wanting to visit the cute little flower shop that you seemed to pass every day, and besides it was spring, what better time to get something floral to liven up your apartment! And like that, your excitement began to build again. You quickly finished your food, threw out your garbage, grabbed your bags and, once again, you were off down the street.

The flower shop was adorable, white walls were accented by the colorful bouquets sitting in the window display, vines climbed their ways up towards the roof, and what appeared to be a hand painted sign sat above the door. As you entered, a soft bell chimed from above you and you stepped into the warm light. You were the only person in the store it seemed, with not even an employee sat behind the counter to greet you. Yet the store was still inviting, warm light cast over the array of blooming flowers, quite a few of which you had never even seen before. It smelled heavenly as you approached the first display to the right of the door.

Lost in thought and unsure of what to purchase, minutes had passed and you hadn’t even noticed the man that had now come to stand behind you, a nearly mischievous grin on his face and his arms crossed in front of him.

“Hello,” the man’s voice startled you, causing you to jump and whip around to face him. A chuckle left his lips as his grin seemed to widen even further. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”.

“No,” you responded, “just something for my counter”.

The man nodded his head and appeared to get lost in thought for a moment. You were curious about him, he was not particularly tall, probably around 5’6 or 5’7, he was slim, and had dark lashes that brought out his gray eyes beautifully. What had really struck you about his appearance was his hair. You could only think of describing it as an asymmetrical bowl cut, with one side having a long piece that reached his chin. The cut wasn’t the only interesting thing about his hair, it was split down the middle, half black and half white, yet it didn’t seem like it had been dyed that way, the parting was too indistinct to seem purposeful.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he brought his eyes up to meet your gaze, “you must be new.”

“I just moved here a few weeks ago, I haven’t had the time to explore until now.”

The man hummed at your response, turning his head away from you again. He wandered around the store for a moment before coming to a stop in front of a display of yellow flowers, picking up a bundle, he turned on his heel and approached you, grin still present on his face.

“These,” he then shoved the bouquet into your hands and stepped back, “they’ll look lovely on your counter, I’m sure.” As you held the flowers, you recognized them as yellow daffodils, and smiled back at the man before nodding your head and walking over to register with him.

He had been right, they did look lovely on your counter. Every time you spotted them out of the corner of your eye, you found your thoughts drifting back to that interesting man. From that point on, you decided you would go back to the store every week, once the flowers started wilting, for a new bouquet.

The first week you came back, man had greeted you with that same grin, and asked you what you were looking for this time.

“Dealer’s choice!” You had responded, hoping your excitement might cover up your nervousness. This response seemed to please him, as he hummed in agreement and began to wander around the flower shop once again. This time he came to a stop in front of a display of chrysanthemums, picking up a bouquet of pink ones, he then returned to you and placed them in your hands, before staring at you with an expectant look.

“Well?” his gaze shifted from your eyes to the flowers and then back up.

“They’re beautiful!” You could have sworn you saw a bit of pink tint his cheeks before he turned and made his way to the counter.

This tradition continued for months; you had never missed a week. Always stepping into the store with a warm smile, excited to see what the man would pick next. You had eventually learned that his name was Gen, and as the weeks passed, found yourself staying longer with each visit. Your conversations grew from short interactions about different kinds of flowers to what was going on in your lives and personal troubles. Gen began to feel like an old friend, always willing to listen and offer up his advice, which you felt would sometimes get you into more trouble than you were in to begin with, but he had not led you astray yet. He even began to open up about his own life, you had hoped that it would quell your curiosity, but taking in information about him only led to wanting to know more. Feelings had bubbled to the surface, and you liked Gen more than you felt comfortable admitting. Maybe even loved him. For the time being, you had decided to suppress the feelings and force your current friendship to be enough to satisfy you.

It was a Tuesday in late summer when, upon stepping into the store, you found Gen sat behind the counter, a bouquet already in hand and a bit of red spread across his face. He stood abruptly, the stool he had sat on let out a shrill squeak, and quickly made his way over to hand you a bouquet of small yellow flowers mixed in with larger white ones. His smile seemed less mischievous and more genuine today.

“Do you know much about flower language?” he asked as he took a step back. You shook your head.

“You should really look into it. Those are gardenias with yellow acacia.” Before you could ask him anything, he shifted the conversation elsewhere. This visit had been your longest yet, you had entered at midday and did not leave until he had begun to close up for the night. Though it had been hours, you never once found yourself bored, and when it was time to leave, you even felt a bit disappointed. When he said goodbye to you that night, he seemed different, maybe a bit nervous. You tried not to focus on it as you made your way home.

It was only when you crawled into bed later, laying there half asleep, that you remembered he had told you to look into flower language. You forced yourself to sit up, ignoring your exhaustion, and grabbed your phone from your nightstand. When you saw the results that appeared after looking up the contents of the newest bouquet he had picked out for you, you felt your heart clench in your chest and heat rise to your face. You were giddy, like you were in middle school again and your crush had just acknowledged you for the first time. Falling asleep that night proved to be rather difficult as excitement coursed through your veins, you were going back tomorrow.

Morning came slower than you hoped, and you were out of bed as soon as the sunlight shined through your window and onto your pillow. You had to practically force yourself to slow down and wait until you knew Gen would be at the shop, time had never passed more slowly.

When you eventually did set out, you found your quick paced walk evolving into a near run. You had to see him. You had practically thrown the door to the shop open, the small bell ringing out into the air. This had startled Gen from his place at one of the displays, where he stood setting out freshly prepared arrangements of various colors. He had whipped around, face looking unlike anything you had ever seen on him before. He seemed scared, but hopeful.

After taking a moment to catch your breath, you met his gaze. A smile crawled its way up your face,

“I love you too.”

#dr stone imagines #asagiri gen x reader #dr stone x reader #asagiri gen imagine

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

Text

Home (Baekhyun x reader)

DOMESTIC FLUFF (?)

ENJOY!

The jingling sounds of key and door carefully pushed open resonated through the half lit apartment. Baekhyun locked his door and carefully switched on the light. His foot steps brought him to the living room, which surprisingly was not neat. He flashed an apologizing smile when he saw the scattered books, papers, and highlighters on top of the coffee table and to the girl who fell asleep uncomfortably on the couch.

A book was covering half of her face; Baekhyun giggled at the sight. He gently placed his gym bag on the other couch, took the book on her face, marked the page with a highlighter and closed it down. He bent to greet her with a kiss and gave a gentle stroke on her shining brown hair. The girl did not move at all, in which Baekhyun deducted she had been too tired this week. He shuffled into the bedroom, took a soft blanket and returned to the sleeping girl. He draped the blanket over her, and left to shower. That girl is Scarlet, the lucky girl who stole Baekhyun's heart and the one he's engaged to.

One of the room that Baekhyun loves other than the bedroom is the bathroom. His marvelous girlfriend amazingly turned this place's dull bathroom into a masterpiece. Baekhyun thanked his hard work which resulted this marble walls and tiles. He thanked his sweats for purchasing him a pulsing bathtub, but mostly, Baekhyun appreciated how his girl did the lights and ambience for this room. The dim relaxing lights and candles never failed in calming his nerves down. The pack of aroma oils she kept on one of the shelves helped Baekhyun breathe even lighter.

Today he realized, it's not late yet to have a dip. It's only 10 (that's why he knew his girl had been tired, for she usually waited til' morning). Baekhyun opened the faucet, walked to the box of oils and chose his companion for tonight. He decided to go with vanilla and a blue bath bomb. He tossed the bomb when the water's enough and stripped down. In less than a minute, he was groaning from the pulses which hit his tired body and softly moaned from the comfort the oils and bubbles gave him. He closed his eyes for a moment, did some deep breathing, and reopened his eyes.

He scanned the room, his heart warming when he saw the things in this room came in pair. The tooth brush, the towels, and the vanity sets. His eyes traveled one more time to the rack of body wash collections Scarlet owns. He frowned a little when he realized her collections had changed.

Baekhyun remembered seeing bottles of colorful and super sweet smelling soaps, but now it's replaced with plain bottles. He squinted his eyes and reached for each bottles. Reading off the titles and scents. He frowned when he read "aromatherapy edition". Though he admit the smells are wonderful, he tried to get her message. The bottles were labeled like Sleep, Stress, and Love. He returned them and glanced at the scented candles which Scarlet likes to light when she showers. The fun bakery or fruity smells was replaced too with another Sleep candle. He felt something’s wrong. Quickly he finished his bath, washed, and tugged on his shorts.

He walked out of the steamy shower, bare chested, then tip toed to the dining table. He made himself a glass of warm milk and sat down while looking at his sleeping girlfriend. Scarlet has always been a shining, restless ball of energy, with lots of positivity, just like him. But he was late to realize that she was going through a lot.

Baekhyun's comeback activities have not allowed him to go home early, except today since two members started to feel sick, nor did it allow him to send texts and sneak calls. He tried to remember when was the last time he checked on Scarlet, and he felt bad when he figured out how much of an uncaring boyfriend he is. He looked at the engagement ring on his left finger and then to Scarlet, played a bit with it, and guilt flooded his body.

When was the last time Baekhyun asked how's she doing? When did he call first or texted first? When did he come home to ask her how her day went? When Baekhyun did accompany her to finish her mountain of home works? When did he really act like her man?

The answer was long time ago. It's always Scarlet who started the conversation, it's always her waiting for him. Scarlet's the one who forced her tired body to stay awake, just to welcome tired Baekhyun home. Scarlet's the one who always asked and listened attentively to how his day happened. She's the one who prepared his bath and bed.

Every morning they still see each other. Drinking coffees and eating breads, Scarlet usually asked him how his sleep was while packing a lunch for her, and him. Not to forget how she always yawned from staying awake to finish her tasks and woke up early to fetch Baekhyun his breakfast and lunch.

He felt like a shit, had he ever sit next to Scarlet all night when she typed words into her laptop, while chugging on cups and cups of coffee? Rarely. Yes he tried and failed miserably, but Scarlet never for once put a grudge on this. Baekhyun saw her charged phone on the island. He reached it and opened the lock, swiped until he found the calendar widget. He scanned through it and learned that this month is her final exam weeks; that explains the books and papers. He carefully noted down each day's exam. Baekhyun made a small plan on his mind. A small support which he hoped can help her pass the exams.

After finishing his milk, he walked to Scarlet, picked her up and put her down on their bed. He returned to the living room to pack on her belongings for tomorrow's class and tidied up the couch. After noting the clock, he turned off the lights and joined Scarlet to dream land. Baekhyun counted the hours of sleep, its 23.30, his schedule tomorrow starts at nine, while Scarlet's class starts at eight. He will wake up earlier tomorrow, make her breakfast, and walk her to campus. Baekhyun smiled at himself, then after another kiss he closed his eyes.

The sun rays woke Baekhyun up around 6. He carefully left his bed, washed, and walked to the kitchen. He turned the coffee machine on, heated the water, then prepared two cups. Baekhyun yawned as he checked on their fridge, surprisingly there are eggs, hams, and cheese. He threw his head to the counter and smiled when he saw bread. He noted he has to grab groceries on his way home, this fridge won't refill itself.

Baekhyun finished cooking the second egg, when a fresh showered Scarlet surprised him with a back hug.

"Morning bae, sorry for sleeping deep last night," Scarlet kissed Baekhyun's exposed neck.

"Morning too babe, no problem... I saw your tiring schedules, it's okay to fell asleep. I like it better, for you to stay healthy." Baekhyun said as he plated the egg on top of the bread, then topped it with cheese and ham then bread. He turned the stove off and returned the kiss Scarlet gave.

"Hmm the coffee's ready." Scarlet inhaled the sweet smell of coffee.

Baekhyun grinned, "Just sit down my lady; I'll prepare this for you." Baekhyun poured milk into one coffee. He knew her well!

Scarlet took a snap and updated her Instagram.

"What? I'm just going to post this so your fans can day dream on you."

Baekhyun said nothing to this, he's thankful though that even though some fans hated her in the beginning, by today they shifted to support them and Baekhyun's thankful Scarlet has been strong so far.

"Let's eat. Enjoy your breakfast." Baekhyun smiled.

"Thanks Baekhyun." She smiled and delicately finished her portion.

"How's your sleep?" Baekhyun asked this time, and he did not miss how Scarlet seemed surprised and happy he asked first. Gosh why did he not do this before? Seeing her surprised and happy made him happy too.

"Amazing! I dreamed that a handsome prince came to kiss my nightmares away, oh Baek it feels real," She gazed into the space.

Baekhyun giggled and brought his hand to ruffle her hair.

"How's yours?" Scarlet asked back.

They caught up with one another, exchanged small talks on how the comeback is going, annoyed conversation on Scarlet's never ending tasks, planned about visiting their parents, and many more.

"Come let's get ready. I can walk you to campus today." Baekhyun stood up and collected the dirty plates. He washed them quickly as Scarlet prepared herself.

They're ready. Baekhyun's wearing black and black with a black cap and black masker, on his left shoulder hung Scarlet's school bag, on his right hand the small hand of Scarlet. They walk while enjoying the sun and other couples.

"Baekhyun, I'm sorry if I sound rude.. But can you please return to the pastel and denim looks please? I'm tired of seeing your dark clothes in the laundry." Scarlet spoke.

He did not need to think and nodded, "Sure! I'll dress brighter after this."

Scarlet smiled, "Thanks! It's depressing for me to see your dirty clothes."

Their steps reached the end, Scarlet smiled brightly in front of the campus gate.

"I can take it from here, thanks jagi, good luck with your practice!" Scarlet rose to give a quick peck on his lips and they parted.

That afternoon, practice ended quickly. Baekhyun rushed to the parking lot after changing into a fresh tee.

"Yak, where are you running to?" Chanyeol asked before Baekhyun was gone behind the doors. It is normal for him to rush home, but Chanyeol always asked the details.

"A date probably?" Kyungsoo teased his friend.

"Any special day?" Sehun chimed in too.

"Nah.. I want to go to the market and prepare dinner."

"Wow, did something happen?" Kai asked

"Nothing bad, I just realize I'm not a caring namja..." He blushed

The rest of them laughed it off and just wished him good luck

Baekhyun was thankful today is a Friday and he can leave before 6! Yet he was sure that Scarlet's last class today will end at 6, which gives him enough time to shop and cook.

He rushed to the supermarket nearby the apartment and bought everything needed for dinner and the empty desolate fridge. He restocked the fruits, chocolates, pop corns. He bought home a bouquet of fresh flowers and a letter too.

Once back home, he arranged everything on the refrigerator and began to cook.

Right as he wait for the rice to cook, he arranged the tables and still got time for a quick fresh shower.

Once he he spit the light-blue mouthwash away, the jingles of key made his heart pound.

"Mwoya?" Scarlet gasped in surprise when she was greeted by the dim lit room only from the dining room. She took off her shoes and left her belongings on the sofa. Scarlet stood frozen in front of the dining room.

There stood Baekhyun, all in his boyfriend dreamy look and a bouquet of fresh flowers. Not to mention how perfect his oversized yellow pastel sweater matched his fluffy caramel hair. His eye bags showed naturally how tired he is, no heavy make ups and eye shadows. Just the plain glowing cheeks Scarlet love, to an extend that she will give everything just so his cheeks can glow.

She did not say anything, he was still frozen too, and Scarlet took the moment to melt Baekhyun in her deep meaningful kiss.

"You don't have to do this Baek," she whispered as her lips lingered close to his.

"I wanted to jagiya, here's your flower." He handed her the bouquet.

Scarlet took a deep whiff of the roses and placed it on the vase.

"Wow you cooked dinner!" She giggled as she saw the pile of dirty pans and pots in the sink.

"Don't worry I'll clean them up, before that shall we eat?" He raised his brow.

"One moment!" Scarlet turned to take a quick shower and change her clothes.

She returned only in Baekhyun's oversized baby blue knitted sweater and a messy bun.

"Jja, let's begin" She took her seat and Baekhyun lit the candles.

"I'll bring you to a proper place tomorrow or next week... sorry tonight I rushed.." He shyly said.

"Oh I love this better Baekhyun, anyways your food tastes better than mine! What secrets are you using?" Scarlet ate happily, savoring each spices and sweetness. Baekhyun felt full seeing her this happy. He got it now how mothers felt when their kids finished her meals. It's rewarding.

"Nothing much, I pour my heart into it." He cheekily replied.

Scarlet rolled her eyes on this, "You know what... I owe you something for this perfect surprise. I love you Baekhyun!"

"Well you could thank me with tonight's activity. How long was it again since we did it? Oh damn I've missed your touch." He smirked.

Scarlet's cheeks burned and she finished her glass of water.

"Will you be good for me tonight?" Baekhyun sipped his wine and put on his playful smirk.

Scarlet winked, "We'll see."

#baekhyun imagine #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun domestic fluff #baekhyun fluff #exo baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun one shot #imagine baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #fluff #exo fluff #exo imagine

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careydodd · 3 years ago

Text

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quillandink333 · 3 years ago

Text

The Great Thaw

Kazuma Asougi × Original Character

SPOILERS FOR THE GREAT ACE ATTORNEY CHRONICLES ~ Read ahead at your own risk!

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.3k

WARNINGS: amnesia, minor displays of aggression (verbal and physical), mentions of malnutrition

Summary: Just when the Englishwoman starts to think she’s on the right track, her attempts to befriend the lost soul she met in the East backfire horrifically, after which she decides to take a different approach.

Masterlist

Day by day, Cecelia continued her diligent efforts to chip away at the ice separating herself and the mysterious man with whom she’d embarked on this half-year-long voyage to Great Britain. A whole month had passed since they’d left Hong Kong together, and the Vitesse was next set to land in Sri Lanka. Her bunk mates, all lovely ladies ranging from late twenties to mid thirties who thrived off stories such as hers, saved none of their encouragement as she kept them updated with her progress. He had yet to smile for her or to be the first to strike up a conversation, but she had gotten a “Thank you,” out of him once or twice, which on its own was already more than she’d hoped for. Things were looking up.

So when she bumped into him one morning on her way to the mess hall for breakfast, she thought nothing of it. “Oh! Terribly sorry,” she chirped, straightening his scarf for him after their unceremonious collision. “You know me.”

She nearly lost her footing when he grabbed her by the wrists hard and backed her into the cold, steel wall of the passageway.

His shoulders were poised and his upper lip furled in a vicious snarl. “You just don’t know when to leave well alone, do you?” The way his eyes tore into her with so narrow a gap between them had her throat tightening, making it harder and harder to breathe. “What do you want from me, eh?!” he snapped, his grip intensifying. “Why do you insist on treating me like we’re old friends?”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I, I thought—”

“No, you know what?” Her wrists were hurled back down to her sides as he shoved himself off of her. “I couldn’t care less. Just stop acting like you and I know each other.” As he turned on his heel and stormed off, she could only just make out what he then muttered under his breath: “I hardly even know myself…”

The day he’d lost his temper with Miss Gardner, the young Eastern seaman had failed to take into account the fact that, on watch, the two of them were assigned to the same post on the starboard side of the main deck. As such, he’d also failed to consider that he would be forced to stand in close vicinity of her not even twenty four hours later, and for a period of three hours uninterrupted.

When evening came that day, even with them stood outside in the salty sea air above deck, it was just as suffocatingly awkward as he’d all too late come to know that it would be. It was impossible not to notice the way she pointedly kept as much geographic distance from him as she could. The minutes were ticking by like weeks. All he wanted to do as he stood watch beside her doing nothing was…he didn’t even know, but frankly, quite literally anything else would have been preferable.

But then, about an hour into their shift, she broke the silence. “Mind if I tell you about something?” she asked innocently.

“What is it?” he asked back, not letting his gaze stray from dead ahead of him. He did mind, but really there was little point in offending her by refusing to even indulge her in as little as that.

He saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, nothing much. It’s just a story, from when I was in my late teens and just striking out on my own for the first time.”

He stayed still and said nothing, both of which she took as signs that he was listening.

“When I first moved out of my family home and into my uni dorm, I didn’t have a clue as to just how frightfully demanding the adult world really is. Which sadly meant I was…severely under-equipped in terms of basic skills that one needs in order to live independently.” She sighed, but the smile in her tone could still be heard. “And to make things worse, I had no roommates, which I was proud of myself for at the time, but in retrospect…”

Expecting her to finish her sentence and surprised when she didn’t, he caved and turned his attention her way.

She shook her head in exasperation. “I was a totally different person back then. You wouldn’t believe your eyes if you saw me acting like I used to now, I’m sure.” He raised a brow at her in response to her challenging him. “I’m serious!” Her eyes went wide, emphasising her seriousness. “Like for example, whenever someone would offer to cook for me—good grief, I was terribly malnourished back then—or to help me with things like managing my chequebook or setting up a bank account, I’d lash out at them and accuse them of belittling my competence in taking care of myself.”

She’d been right about one thing. What she spoke of was indeed very difficult to fathom. He crossed his arms thoughtfully in front of him.

“Eventually I realised that, well...I’m sure you’ve long since figured this out about me, but I’m not the type of person who can do absolutely everything for herself.” This made him crack a smirk. She was right once again. “That’s why I’m always putting my faith in others, because I know I couldn’t get by otherwise. Once I’d started doing that, it was obvious how silly I’d been to think that people actually thought less of me when they noticed me struggling to get by, while really they just wanted to help because they cared for my wellbeing.”

It wasn’t until she’d started with that kind of talk that the story’s true level of seriousness really started to get itself across. Until now, it had been masked by her relaxed posture and happy-go-lucky expression, the intentionality of which he was finding difficult to determine. There was as yet more to her tale left unsaid, though, as he would soon discover.

“Of course, that isn’t to say that asking for a hand when you need one is guaranteed to end well every time, as I’ve already demonstrated to you.” A few stray puffs of laughter were sprinkled throughout her little admission. She must have been referring to the incident during which the two of them had first met, he inferred. “But I still believe taking a risk every now and then is better than just...wasting away like I had been.”

For the first time since she’d approached him that evening, her smile vanished, even if for just a moment.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said, sensing she’d reached a conclusion. “Why have you told me all this…? What’s your point?”

A short but powerful “Hah!” burst out of her and caught him unawares. “I just wanted to, that’s all,” she chortled as if it were the silliest question she’d ever heard. That, or he was making her nervous. “Need I have a reason beyond just that?”

She seemed sincere enough in her answer. However, given the current circumstances between her and himself, it was hard to believe that there wasn’t more to her motivations than mere spontaneity.

They didn’t speak again for the remainder of the night. All the while, her story continued to play on his mind, confounding him to no end. How dare she imply that he was ‘struggling’? He didn’t think he was. Thus far, in fact, he’d been living up to the profession of ‘able seaman’ quite well. Unless she thought he was struggling in other ways. In which case, what did she care? Why would she care? He wanted to be sceptical, but then he remembered the part in her tale about how she’d experienced feelings similar to these in a situation similar to this herself.

The way she’d chosen to lecture him like he was a teenager was beyond irritating. And yet, he couldn’t explain the anomalous feeling of warmth that spread throughout his chest whenever he had the thought of, She cares about me.

#my writing #fanfic #dgs spoilers #dgs2 spoilers #tgaa spoilers #tgaa2 spoilers #dai gyakuten saiban #dgs #the great ace attorney #tgaa #kazuma asogi #asougi kazuma #kazuma asogi x oc #asougi kazuma x oc #my oc #dgs oc #tgaa oc #cecelia gardner

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daredevile · 5 years ago

Text

A Second Here Another Gone

Summary: Blinded by the sweet raptures of a new relationship, Bucky lowers his guard around you - unaware of the real reason you found him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, bit of violence and one swear word

A/N: Hey! I know it’s been over two months since I posted something and I’m sorry! I was working on so many oneshots and never finished one until now. But, I promise I will try to update somewhat regularly from now on! Anyway, this one’s for Ayesha’s [ @browngirlmagic ] writing challenge and my prompt was ‘Echo’. Please reblog if you like it! :)

An angry crimson. A so-called scarlet elixir of the living trickles from its hearth beneath as if screaming a symbol of horror and impending doom. It surrenders with grace and elegance - a droplet of fresh blood tainting pristine white floors, smearing the Parthenon of life and death with an intensity of wrath and violence and -

"Hey." The sombre tone in his voice draws you into his weary stature. It looks worse than he'd assured over the phone. Raging clusters of purple and blue spread across his arms, broken lip, black eye, his jaw cast a scarlet tint. Not to mention the slight limp he'd tried masking from your stares.

"Thanks for coming so fast. Would've driven myself but..." He motions to the cast around his right arm, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. A nurse approaches him with a sympathetic expression, repeating a list of instructions and medication requirements for a quick recovery. Though you know Bucky's not following a word she's saying - she must've realised it too - giving you a moment for any questions before returning to her station.

The conversation in the car is non-existent, only a couple of instinctive glances towards the rear-view mirror to gauge each other's emotions. Soft tunes twirl in the background, Bucky lowers the volume with a grunt as his muscles sting with the movement. A sigh escapes from his lips, he angles himself towards your concentrated form but, you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Y'know it's not as bad as it looks. Should've seen the other guy." He says with a constrained laugh. An honest attempt to relieve the tensed wind and the crease between your eyebrows, alas, it fails its purpose. He sinks back into the cushioned seat, lingering his eyes over the neon streaks of passing vehicles.

The road seems never-ending, both sides merely converging at a distant imaginary point ahead. The traffic dissolves and scatters into several busy paths as Bucky directs you through far too many left and right turns before arriving at a rather calm and vacant neighbourhood.

Once the engines lull back into a soft purr, you open the passenger door and gently grasp his arms as he lifts himself from the seat. He releases a breath in relief, thankful your silence is replaced by concern. The two flights of stairs is another journey on its own, exchanging mumbles of apologies and groans, even the close proximity of him curves past your thoughts.

Bucky stumbles into his apartment, careful to avoid the loose floorboard right at the entrance - pushing a horrible reminder to the back of his mind - and you follow his footing. A chuckle from him pulls your attention, determined he's capable on his own, he leans away from your hold, mentioning something about taking a shower before retreating into the furthest room.

His house is spotless, every single object kept in a place for swift and efficient access. Somehow he'd made a rather confined area appear more spacious. You notice how foreign and hostile he maintained his home - a supposed personal bubble. His belongings danced around the hazy line between bare essentials and other items. Almost as if he was caught in the process of moving in or ready to move out within a matter of minutes.

A sharp buzz from your phone stops you from observing the rest of the apartment. Without sparing a glimpse at the caller, you swipe the green button. An instant thrust of shouting greets you, attacking your senses with great vigour. And it's patience, you've learned, an offensive strategy to appease the monster into a human you could better tolerate.

"I need time." It's not forceful, however, lacking a timbre of the usual intensity your words uphold. The shouting continues, each syllable seething with fury, demanding more answers while your fist clenches at the vulgar threats he hurls from the other end.

"I need more time."

There's dead silence on both ends. And for a second, you believe that he's accepted the command. As fast as it'd ignited, the little spark of surprise disintegrates when his deep laughter is all that's pounding in your ears.

"You're here!" Bucky says, grinning as he spots you in the balcony, "Thought you left me alone."

His sudden appearance turns your blood cold and you can feel the precise second your heart trips over a beat, shoving the phone back into your pocket. His smile drops, immediately regretting how he entered as soon as he saw the pained expression written all over your features. He sighs when your eyes witness the red wounds and scars - some more jarring than others - scattered across his body.

"Look, I know this isn't a good impression. I don't want you to see me like this, trust me, I wouldn't have called if I had - " A pause. Hesitant as he swallows back the words. "Anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Bucky. This is all just... difficult." He nods, fumbling with the loose bandage tied to his other arm. A smile tugs on your lips at his frustration, you grab the free end and wrap it securely around the wound.

"Could you maybe stay? I mean... if you want to." He struggles to suppress a grin when you look up at his eyes. It's hope that lingers behind them.

"Of course."

But the side where you slept is cold and empty when he wakes up.

---

O N E W E E K E A R L I E R

The restaurant was crowded, located right at the heart of the city, overlooking several busy streets that seemed to sink under all the hustle and bustle. The world appeared an innocent umber through the dark hue of your sunglasses, shielding yourself from unwanted enemies. Or so you thought.

Time. Time was precious and no amount of glancing at your watch appeared to have quickened the circular orbit of the dials. But this time, you were unsure - caught between the dichotomous chasm of want and need - a feeling that unsettled you to the core.

"Hope you don't mind, darling." A deep voice came from behind, the drinks spilt over the glasses as he slammed his hand on the table. The elderly couple sitting to your left flinched at his abrupt action. A fake smile was enough to have satisfied them, he returned to face your blank expression.

"So tell me, does it usually take this long or are you fucking him?" It was almost a growl that promptly simmered to a smirk when a waitress passed by, unaware of the evil she'd encountered.

"He'll figure it out, I'm being careful." You said, oblivious to the scorching hot liquid piercing your taste buds. Any shard of fun and pleasure that had emerged from his features earlier crumbled at that very second, he leaned closer and you saw the strain on his face when his jaw clenched. Rumlow was not one to adjust and compensate. You learned that the hard way.

"Listen l/n, I saved you from Volkov 'cause you'd be useful someday. And now you owe me. Gave you a week to do the job, it's been two and I still got nothing. And you know I don't like waiting. Get me the information and finish him or should I remind you what's at stake here."

His voice was dangerously low as if cautious of people overhearing but, you knew it would take mere seconds for the scene to resemble a massacre. Yet, he was right. Your past record highlighted the speed and efficiency of completing assignments - just one hit then delivered to the client and you walked away richer. No hesitation. Unfortunately, this time it was Bucky who had a price on his head and had obtained confidential information.

A folder was thrown at your direction, containing photographs of innocents at different viewpoints through what was unmistakably sniper scopes. Rumlow mimicked the sound of a gun cocking before standing up. He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing while he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and walked into the sea of people. His last words were all that you breathed.

Barnes or your family.

---

Bucky sidesteps the soldier-like stance of a grumpy looking man, clearing his throat to alleviate the embarrassment of breaking under his penetrating stare. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, Bucky ignores the annoyed tsk that's clearly targetted at him. On any other occasion, a meaningless interaction with strangers would've flown over his head. But, today he's confused. Scared, even.

Less than two weeks ago, he'd encountered and been drawn to an enigma. Strong yet intricately pieced together. Delicate yet resilient. He just couldn't figure it out. After all, he thought everything became normal once he'd spoken and apologised last night. Expecting to be woken up by sunshine and ruffled sheets from a good sleep and you sleeping soundly, but you were gone without a word - and he just doesn't understand.

And now, here he is, shuffling through busy routes to follow a briskly walking figure who's intrigued him for half an hour. They seem to have no destination, simply taking sharp turns and descending into valleys of crowds and streetside markets. In a hurry, Bucky thinks. He picks up his pace, there seem to be fewer people in this area. It's darker and easily hidden between the lanes of houses.

He turns the corner and realises there are no other paths. A dead-end. The figure spins around, eyes flitting around the narrow path. He panics and begins to retreat, but the all-too-familiar cock of the gun stills his movements. Nothing. No moment in his entire life scared him more than the person standing a few steps away -

It's you.

He freezes when your finger curls around the trigger and the innocence in your eyes dissolve. Every single instinct in his body is telling him to run. But he can't. He wants to know more, to know why. And he realises you're thinking the same when your hand begins to tremble.

"Whose orders?"

It's a tone he's never heard before. Cold and detached. A machine programmed to do one's bidding with no second thoughts. He raises both hands, swallowing the agonising feeling latching onto his throat as your grip tightens.

"Don't lie to me, Barnes. Who ordered you to kill me?"

There's no choice. His heart is clawing the insides of his chest, waiting to be free. A whisper is all it takes to conquer your feelings.

"Volkov."

Bucky knows the moment his name is released into the strangling air between you, the gun falters. He sees the rapid and minute shift of your eyes, composing all the information together until -

Your voice staggers, pleading almost. "They have my family, Bucky. He'll kill them if you don't tell me where Volkov is. Rumlow - "

Bucky stops listening. Rumlow, a name he'd left behind, buried within the depths of conscience along with Hydra. He understands your assignment, a simple extract and kill. What Volkov had promised in exchange for your life - Steve's whereabouts - seemed too good to be true, maybe a possible reality in a utopian world. But, this is his life and it's not paradise. He takes a few steps until his hands hover over your gun, angling it towards his heart.

"Then save them."

He whispers the location and you try to zone out, lose control so you don't hear his words. It's too late, two snipers emerge from buildings on command, both taking positions on either side of where you're standing. The chill that runs down Bucky's spine doesn't go unnoticed as he spots the red skull badge on their sleeves. Rumlow knew you wouldn't kill him.

Bucky nudges your chin with the tips of his fingers, reaching into his jacket, he slips his gun into your hands. No words are spoken but you know what has to be done.

Taking a much-needed breath, you pull the trigger at him, not witnessing the wine coloured liquid spreading across his chest instead, taking cover before shooting one of the snipers lurking near a thin pillar. The other one begins firing near the car you are ducking behind. You sprint into his blind spot and kill him with a shot to his head.

Without wasting another second, you spot Bucky clutching his chest in pain. It takes a frozen second for you to dial 911, shaking with dread before Rumlow sends any more of his men and the chances of Bucky surviving vanish. A concerned voice replies to your incohesive string of words, you're barely making sense, the nurse ends the call ensuring 'they're on the way'. Bucky grabs your hand amongst the turmoil, light-headed and pale from the blood seeping through his clothes.

"This isn't goodbye."

And you run.

---

E I G H T M O N T H S L A T E R

Even after weeks of desperately searching for him, he was nowhere to be found. You'd gone back to the hospital, the nurse gave you a distressed glance, saying he hadn't mentioned anywhere in particular. That he was gone once discharged.

You didn't give up though - he'd sacrificed himself for your family in a sheer heartbeat. Bucky was the wind to your storm - a second here another gone. He was mysterious beneath the layers of kindness and affection, tender yet deep like the lyrics of a love song - words you've yet to discover, only hoping you weren't wrong.

A few of your old confidantes were able to carry out under-the-ground operations in exchange for Bucky's location: Edinburgh.

Under the chilly winter winds, you walk along the snow-freckled pavement. Sitting at a dark wooden bench inspecting calming patterns of skate lines etched across the river's icy surface, puffs of crisp air revealing themselves as you sigh.

"I was right."

His voice beckons a long-awaited smile on your face. Sharp blue eyes gazing at a few younger skaters wobbling while they glide along. You begin to stammer out an apology, but he shakes his head, still not meeting your eyes.

"You had no choice."

"Did you find him?" You ask eagerly as he takes a seat next to you.

"Pulled a few strings with some old contacts." Bucky turns to face you, a genuine smile he hadn't felt in ages tugs his lips. He takes your gloved hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours with a dazed look washing over his features.

"He's here."

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky fluff #winter soldier #marvel #mcu

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iwantutobehapppier · 5 years ago

Text

So You Made Some Bad PSA’s

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve’s continuing embarrassing behavior towards and about you deserved equal punishment right? Maybe showing Bucky the PSA’s Steve did a while ago wasn’t such a good idea. Super Soldiers never half-ass anything.

Warnings: Just cursing and some implied violence I guess? Pinning? Once saw something that said aggressively continues to ignore canon, yeah sames.

Word Count: 4,280

A/N: I was watching the Rappin With Cap videos on youtube and wondered how much crap Bucky would give Steve if he found out about them. I hope this is as funny of an idea as I thought it was. Tagging my lovely waifu @sagechanoafterdark who said she didn’t know she needed this until I brought it up. Hope you enjoy lovely.

"You need to calm down," Steve's snooty tone only fueled the flustered feelings he had brought. By now you were red from your chest to your ears with embarrassment. With a huff, you spun on your heels and left him dumbstruck.

"It's not that big of a deal!" He called out only digging himself deeper into the proverbial hole.

You had never been so embarrassed in your life!!

“Self-righteous asshat,” you grumbled making your way to the gym to blow off steam instead of slapping the aforementioned asshat. Who said things like that around mixed company? What that man lacked with tact he held a surplus of righteousness.

Shoving the gym doors open you missed how your entry caught Bucky’s attention, sitting up on the bench press.

When you made a straight shot to the punching bag muttering "Star-Spangled douche" Bucky's suspicion of your explosive entry into the gym was confirmed.

Watching you wrap your hands he lifted a brow picking up the soft "Captain No Ass America". He laid back down and returned to his nearly maxed barbell, decidedly steering clear from your unpleasant mood.

The gym would have been peaceful for Bucky’s much-needed energy-burning exercise except all he could focus on was your insistent mutterings coupled with the sound of air rushing from gloves as you hit the bag with all the weight of your body.

You were all consumed in imagining Steve’s stupid face on the bag were you fists landed that when Bucky called your name out you jumped back startled.

“What’s got ya’ so riled up little spitfire?” Bucky’s arms crossed over his chest as he watched you in amusement. There was a multitude of things his punk of a friend did this time to jostle you so much. He was never good with dames.

“Your friend has no tact,” Bucky could only nod in agreement. “He doesn’t think before he opens that stupid perfect mouth of his!” He ignored the perfect part but certainly cataloged it for future proof of the fact you two were into each other. Which is often the cause of these semi-occasional fits.

“Has no regard for how embarrassing he can be sometimes,” you drug the palm of your hand across your face in exhaustion of both Steve and the energy you exhumed on the punching bag.

“Ya’ know how to get back at him right?” You looked at Bucky from between your fingers with growing curiosity.

“Embarrass him,” he pulled his arms out far “And I mean BIG time.” Bucky continued on. “I’m talking ‘bout something that will last for a good while.”

“I love the punk, but he never learns unless he gets a taste of his own medicine.” Bucky knew that wouldn’t really resolve the situation if anything it’d make the tension between you two worse but he was willing and giddy to watch this escalate.

You stood there mulling his idea around in your head. What on earth could you do that would sufficiently and irrevocably embarrass Captain America? The man ran around in star-spangled leotard for years. What could possibly be more embarrassing than the less than flattering renditions of his uniform?

And then it hit you.

“Hey, Bucky?” You questioned with a saccharine voice most men should fear coming from a woman’s ire. Buck raised an eyebrow in question.

“You ever see the PSA’s Steve did?” Bucky’s eyes lit up with uncontained wonder.

~*~

Steve sat in the group kitchen eating one of the many grilled chicken breasts and vegetable platters you had prepared for him to reheat later. Debriefing for the next mission was in a few hours and he hadn’t seen you or Bucky all day. You tended to stay to yourself in the mornings but Bucky would normally meet him in the gym after Steve’s morning run.

But last night you and Bucky had been up late together. In your room. With the door closed. Not that Steve walked by or anything. He definitely didn’t walk by 5 times within one hour. No, not him.

Steve couldn’t figure out which was worse, the fact you were in your room late with Buck or the fact you two spent most the night laughing endlessly. Honestly, Steve was more than hurt that he wasn’t invited to whatever fun-filled evening you two had. He knew you were upset with him but normally you’d go to the gym or run around the lake on the compound grounds and come back later. He would apologize, not sure what most the time but he knew he felt bad for hurting your feelings.

If he was honest, and Steve Rogers prided himself on his honesty, he did like watching your ass bounce when you walked away, upset or not.

As if his thoughts manifested the two of you, you both walked in whispering and giggling.

“What are you two conspiring about?” Steve couldn’t help as one side of his lips lifted, he did enjoy seeing Bucky bonding with people and if it was with you even better. You were after all one of the sweetest people Steve knows.

You and Bucky stopped talking, looking at Steve in a way that made him squirm in his chair. Specifically, the disconcerting look Bucky directed at him.

“Steve, what would you say is the toughest enemy you ever faced?” Bucky’s question confused Steve more than he could say. What was he getting at? His tone sounded more rhetorical than inquisitive.

“Well Buck, I don’t know,” He answered. Bucky stroked his chin with his metal thumb and forefingers.

“Oh, you wouldn’t say its tooth decay?” He grinned back at his dear friend since childhood enjoying the torture he was going to surely bring upon him.

Fear, unrelenting fear and embarrassment struck Steve to his core. Suddenly the two of you laughing so much made sense. His face paled and eyes narrowed in on you, but the innocent face you played so well failed to hide what he knew happened.

“Please. Buck. No,” Bucky’s grin turned maniacal at the soft blush now growing on Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, Steve yes!”

Before Bucky could start back up Steve went on the defense.

“I thought it would be helpful, remember the PSA’s in the theatres?” Desperation for his friend to understand and drop this clear in his voice.

“Yeah, they were stupid you bozo and so are these.” Bucky turned his gaze to you leaned against the kitchen island watching the exchange between the two of them. This was solid gold, and only going to get better if Bucky’s words of encouragement earlier held any truth.

“I really need something to give me an edge for today’s debriefing.” Bucky began again. Steve could feel his face turn red with every passing moment. His best friend was never going to drop this.

“I know just what you mean Buck.” You chimed in, Steve turned his head down. Did you two find them together? Did you know about them and show them to Bucky?

“Can you make me a hot lunch Steve?” Bucky faced his good ol’ pal once more, rubbing his stomach for emphasis.

“Yeah, a well-balanced diet keeps your body healthy.” You rested your chin in the palm of your hand, eyes bouncing between the two Super Soldiers. Steve raised his head back up, his blank face directed at Bucky.

“Tell us about the food pyramid so we can find that balance we need,” Bucky could feel his cheeks start to hurt. The tortured look on Steve’s face while small was enough for him to pick up on and it was everything Bucky needed.

“Bucky please,” Steve lamented but Bucky would have none of it.

“Isn’t this like that stupid Bonds selling they had you do back in the war?” Buck accused.

“This was different, it was for the kids.” Bucky nodded his head,

“Right, right the kids,” Bucky paused “Did you even read it before they started filming?”

If Steve’s face could get any redder it would have. “Listen I didn’t totally understand it, but I was assured it was for the kids.” Before Steve could suffer any more embarrassment he abandoned his meal and the kitchen.

“Also why was it called ‘Rappin with Cap?” Bucky called out to Steve’s retreating figure. “Missed opportunity for Rappin’ with Cappin’. Who do I talk to get that updated?” Steve threw his hands up in exasperation continuing his retreat.

“Buzz off jerk!” He hollered back at Bucky.

“What would the kids think, Steve?!” You and Bucky laughed, your sides ached double time from the work out they got last night from all the laughing then.

“Ah that was good, he was definitely embarrassed.” You smiled at Bucky wiping some tears in the corner of your eyes. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Oh, we’re far from finished.” You blanched, you suddenly felt precarious about the continued punishment. You knew Steve needed to learn the lesson, Bucky had assured you it would work. But you were losing confidence in continued torture as Steve’s face of embarrassment resurfaced in your mind.

“How long were you going to carry this on?” You muttered chewing on your bottom lip.

“I don’t know probably until it stops being funny.” His side grin did nothing to ease your worry about how much Steve would suffer through this.

“Which will be never.” Bucky chuckled going to the fridge for some lunch. “You want anything?”

~*~

Bucky sat across from Steve eyeing him during the customary post-mission group meal. Wanda sat next to him while Nat and Clint posted up at the end of the table. Bruce and Tony at the other end discussing the level of science others could barely understand.

You were finished loading up a plate of food about to find a spot on the large meeting table turned into the dining table when Bucky’s voice carried over loudly in the room.

“Ya know,” Bucky leaned back in his chair, the front legs lifting off the floor. “This mission went really well, we all followed the rules.”

Steve lifted an eyebrow at Bucky’s words trying to discern the trajectory of this out of character comment.

“Wouldn’t you say so, Steve?” Bucky looked at Steve biting the inside of his mouth to stop his smile. Steve jaw ticked, he understood now. Everyone at the table was looking between the two of them.

“Yeah Buck, the mission went well.” The blonde’s gritted out between clenched teeth.

“I mean the only way to be cool is to follow the rules. Right Cap?” Tony chortled at Bucky’s words quickly picking up on what was occurring. Of course Tony had seen the videos too.

“Steve, weren’t you a war criminal?” Bucky couldn’t hide his smile any longer, glancing at you then back to Steve causing the Blonde Soldier to look your way. You covered your smile with your free hand, holding your plate with the other.

“Bucky,” His tone anything but indulgent to Bucky’s antics.

“You must not be that cool, way to break ALL the rules, Cap.” Steve palmed his face with one hand and gave an exasperated breath.

You sat down next to Steve and began to eat just as Steve stood up. Taking his unfinished plate he began to leave the meeting room.

“Hey, punk!” Steve turned his head towards Bucky, everyone watching the exchange between the two Super Soldier brothers still.

“Since ya break so many rules,” Bucky paused “Know where I can get some illegal fireworks?”

“For fucks sake Bucky,” Steve walked out after that.

"Language!" Tony quipped, Steve’s shoulders sagged as he exited.

~*~

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since you unknowingly unleashed Bucky hell on Steve.

Sure the two of them picked on each other and often lead to heated words but it would always dissipate with ease. This was a whole other level.

Maybe, if there hadn’t been SO MANY videos for Bucky to antagonize his best mate with it would have stopped by now. As it where Steve did more PSA’s than he remembered and every time Bucky had the chance, he brought them up. In subtle and not so subtle ways.

Steve’s face was either red with embarrassment or rage when Bucky was in the room. Most times he stomped out, others Bucky left laughing the whole way out of the room.

You had been staying out of it, for the most part, being a bystander like the rest of the Avengers. Unlike the rest of the avengers though, you were always left with this rock in the pit of your stomach knowing you were solely responsible.

Entering the debrief room you noticed everyone was there assigned to the upcoming mission except your righteous leader, Steve.

“Anyone know where Steve is?” You voiced your concern, he was never late to debriefing in the entire time you’d been an Avenger. FRIDAY answered before anyone else in the room could address.

"I've been advised to inform you that Captain Rogers will not be attending any meetings that include Sergeant Barnes until he refrains from goading Captain.” As the AI spoke your eyes cut to Bucky with a pleading look.

This had to stop.

Walking right out of the room you made a beeline for Steve’s office, the Winter Soldier hot on your trail. When Bucky’s hand made to open the door to Steve’s office you swatted at it glaring up at him as you knocked on the solid door. Bucky rolled his eyes at your etiquette.

“Come in,” Steve paused, “Unless it’s Bucky.” he continued. You stuck your tongue out at Bucky before entering the room and shutting it behind you and locking.

Steve looked up raising an eyebrow at the locking, his face a little flush at the potential implication.

“Bucky,” You explained and he nodded face sullen.

“I wanted to apologize Steve.” You started and he raised his hand up to stop you but you ignored him.

“Had I known how far and long Bucky would take this I would have shown him maybe only one or two videos.” Steve frowned. “Definitely not all of them.”

“Well thank you for that apology,” His deadpan delivery less than stellar for the rock still sitting in your stomach. He stood up and reached past you to unlock the door. You couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne and the smell that was uniquely him.

With Bucky and Steve avoiding each other leading to Steve avoiding you, you had almost forgotten how wonderful he smelt. You also had not been on the receiving end of his embarrassing lack of tact with the subsequent avoidance but you had forgotten that too at the moment.

“I really am sorry,” You muttered out, Steve stalled opening the door at the remorse in your voice. He said your name with a sigh, his breath fanning against your face your body hair breaths away, his hand lingering on the door handle. The warmth of his body could be felt even through your clothing.

This sensation was a reminder of all the times you two would spar, trying hard to ignore how well he felt against you, instead of focusing on winning a match against the perfect soldier. You had to ignore it, after all, he was your Captain, and you were just you.

“I know you are, but you did it none the less.” The finality in his words made it clear your apology was not accepted and you really couldn’t blame him with how far Bucky had taken this.

Finally opening the door Steve’s eyes narrowed in what could only be described as a death glare to the chaotic soldier behind you.

“Bucky,” you turned around as Steve addressed him as you made your way out of the room.

“Steve,” Bucky mimicked the serious tone Steve gave, only his face held that Cheshire cat smile unlike Steve’s.

Before either of them could startup you attempted to mediate. “Come on Soldiers, we’ve got a debriefing to attend.” Grabbing Bucky by his metal arm you tugged him along, fearing rejection from Steve if you attempted the same.

~*~

Bucky had been away on a mission with Natasha for the past month and Steve had enjoyed the much-needed reprieve from his friend’s torture. He was hoping the passing of time would wear off the novelty of teasing. Steve ever the optimist.

Bucky was catching up with you in the hall after finishing his debriefing jokingly scolding you for not carrying on his torture.

“Come on, he’s almost learned his lesson.” Bucky elbowed your arm smirking at you.

“I don’t think this is a lesson by fire situation anymore. Maybe it never was going to work leaving you to deal out the punishment.” You folded your arms over your chest settling your narrowed eyes on the brown-haired chaotic neutral incarnate.

“It’s all in good fun,” Bucky justified, knowing full well he was pushing his luck with Steve. He was sick of Steve’s silence regarding his feelings for you and if he could punish him for the mounting sexual tension he had to suffer between the two of you then he’d deal it out on the regular.

Steve caught the sight of the two of you and couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips when you flagged him over.

“Hey Steve,” you greeted his dopey smile contagious. Steve nodded his head towards you before looking at his friend.

“How was it, Buck?” He inquired and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Come on man you can read it in the reports you make me fill out,” Steve returned the eye roll.

“Are you joining Bucky and me for movie night?” You inquired with hope towards Steve, wanting to prevent any escalation between the two as well. Maybe a peaceful movie night would help the damage you did with those videos.

Steve scratched the back of his head starting to stumble on his words. Bucky couldn’t stop himself, well he’s sure he could but why would he when his friend was starting to make a fool of himself.

“Do you feel an itch, Steve?” Steve’s hand froze at Bucky’s words. His face falling at this line of conversation. Couldn’t he just leave well enough alone?

“I hate you so much Buck,” Bucky’s Cheshire cat smile returned with a vengeance, your brows rising in confusion. What was? No Bucky wasn’t doing it again?!

“You could have lice,” Bucky’s tone a face concern.

“Bucky stop,” Steve’s tone dangerously calm.

“Stand up and be a hero Steve.” Before Bucky could start his signature peals of laughter at his friend’s embarrassment, he blew up.

“That’s enough!” Steve’s face turning red. This was the limit, apparently. He pointed at Bucky then swung the accusatory finger towards you, “I don’t know what I did to deserve the two of you ganging up on me like this.”

“Com’on Steve this isn’t on her,” Bucky interjected, wanted to take the heat off you. His plan wasn’t going to work if Steve lumped you in with his anger. “I was gonna find those videos eventually,” Bucky went to your defense but it was unnecessary as the dope had hit a nerve.

“You don’t know what you did to deserve this?!” Steve was incredulous. How could he be so daft to his actions?!

“You say the dumbest things to me.” Your hands gestured around wildly “And in front of me about me at the worst times!” You took a step towards Steve whose fire was being dampened by your growing temper. “Embarrassing the crap out of me in front of staff or even the team!”

You nearly blew a gasket at how bewildered Steve appeared. “I didn’t know I did that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” His eyes narrowed at your growing condescension. “Because you don’t pay attention to how your words affect others!”

Bucky watched the two of you with what was at first amusement but rapidly turning to worry when Steve squared his shoulders. You both had tempers known to be nuclear when opposing.

“Don’t pay attention?!” Steve threw his hands up in the air, the loud clap sound of them falling to his sides at his words make you flinch. “All I do is give you my undivided attention.” His gaze levels on you, both of you oblivious to your audience.

“For years.” Steve’s voice strained, trying to express what he longed to say without actually having to put himself out there.

“Wait, what?” You shook your head now you the one befuddled between the two of you, his words washing away your indignation.

“Where has that gotten me huh?” Your confusion only fueled Steve. Of course, you don’t understand what he was trying to say. Steve was pas the point of reasoning now.

“My best friend seeing some of the most ridiculous things I did freshly out of the ice,” his eyes darting between the two of you, “And you two exploiting it!” Taking a deep breath closing his eyes Steve tried to calm the storm inside him.

You took a step away clutching your chest at the venom he spewed. How fast a playful way to take self-righteous Steve Rogers down a few pegs put you on the top of his shit list.

“Steve-” You started only to stop and try again. “I-” Steve’s eyes snapped open narrowing on you fumbling your words, hands wringing in front of you.

“JUST STOP!” You let out a soft yelp at the volume his voice hit. “You’ve done enough don’t you think?!”

You wanted to defend yourself but thought better of it. Nodding your head you walked off with short paced steps to escape.

Steve watched your retreating figure, face softening with each step you took. He went to follow you but stopped himself. He had made enough of a mess. Looking at Bucky he groaned at the disappointment written all over his face.

Without another word, he left Bucky alone in the hall seeking solace from his embarrassing temper tantrum.

~*~

Bucky entered Steve’s office without knocking, he assumed if Steve truly didn’t want to be bothered he could have easily locked the door or had FRIDAY bar anyone from entering.

Steve sat with his head in his hands, taking in deep breaths trying to find some kind of solution to the problem that ever was you.

“So you acted like an idiot because you don’t know how to talk to women?” Steve looked up at Bucky’s words and held back the desire to flip his desk right at him. Bucky had turned the chair across from his desk around and was straddling it facing him. Arms crossed over the top of the backing. Just like he did in those stupid videos. Videos you had watched countless times by now.

“Buck,” Steve’s strained voice conveying enough to Bucky but not enough to get him to sit properly in the chair. “Please leave it alone.”

“Listen, man, I’m serious. You suck at women.”

“Gee, thanks, bud.” Steve looked down at his desk in defeat.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky knocked on the table. “Now what are you going to do to fix this?” Steve scoffed raising his head up to face his longest friend.

“Why do I have to fix it?”

“Because you yelled at her,” his words full of disbelief, Bucky was almost in awe at Steve’s inability to at least learn a few things about women without him around to get him a pity date.

“If she hadn’t-” Bucky raised a hand to get Steve to stop before he even started.

“Lemme’ stop you right there punk,” Steve’s deadpan stare did nothing to stop him. “You and I both know this is way beyond me picking on you about some PSA’s.”

“I think its got a lot-”

“Just because you’re all buff doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass if you don’t shut up,” Bucky flexed his metal arm, the whirling of metal cogs warming up filled the office, clearly, he was intending to make good on his threat.

“Fine,” Steve was done fighting for the day. “What’s this about then?” His arm gesturing across his desk for Bucky to continue sans interruption.

“You love her,” Buck was impressed at how quick Steve’s face reddened.

“You hate that she’s been spending all this time with me,” Steve went to argue before he could get a word in Bucky raised an eyebrow rolling his left shoulder back.

“My silence doesn’t mean agreement.” Steve just didn’t want his office wrecked or the rant Tony would give him for the cost of repairs.

Bucky huffed rolling his eyes, “Man, what does she even see in you?”

“What?”

“Come on, you two can’t be this oblivious?” Buck leaned forward pushing until the chair only had two legs on the ground and he was leaning over Steve’s desk keeping eye contact.

“You two are hopelessly into each other,” Steve sat up straight shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s sickening really,” Bucky leaned back the chair slamming back to the ground and groaning at the abuse.

“How can you tell, are you sure she likes me?” Steve’s words jumbled in his mouth

“Don’t do that thing, bozo,” Bucky crossed his arms in front of his chest “Where you act all ‘oh she likes me’” He pulled his metal hand out and pointed at Steve, “Just go get her.”

Steve stood up with gust and left his office with the same level of energy.

Bucky stuck his head out the office door threshold.

“Don’t skim on the human reproduction lessons!” Steve chose to ignore his friend’s taunt, determination written on his face. He’d spent plenty of time thinking and talking about all of this. It was time for action.

#steve x reader #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #Steve Rogers #bucky gotta give steve crap #wouldn't you #come on steve #mcu #marvel #captain america #Winter Soldier #captain america x reader #but really its about Bucky terrorizing his ol pal #fanfic

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