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#ok but in truth i wanted to try a scrapbook sort of feeling

what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years

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Stark Spangled Banner Ch1: Back Into The Field

Summary: Katie heads back to SHIELD following the crazy events in Miami and finds herself on desk arrest following a disciplinary for two weeks. But when catastrophe strikes on a mission, she kinda wishes she had stayed there.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x O/C Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language (no smut, yet, but will be down the line. A bit of angst, injury and blood (some may find upsetting)

Stark Spangled Man: Re-cap

Steve was mad, furious, absolutely and utterly infuriated. His foot tapped as he rode the elevator up to the 95th floor where it pinged open and he stepped into the living area of the tower. Katie uncurled herself off the couch and started to speak before the doors had even shut behind him.

“I know you’re pissed…” she began, but he held his hand up, shaking his head.

“Pissed doesn’t even come into it…” he said, “Are you insane?”

“Not last time I checked.”

He felt his jaw tighten, this wasn’t the time for her jokes or quips. As he looked at she felt herself quell under his gaze and she dropped her eyes from his and sighed.

“I had to help.”

“You’re a fucking idiot_!” he stood, arms folded as he glared at her. She raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent as he unloaded “You could have been seriously hurt, or killed… I told you to call me!”

“You’re only pissed off because you missed a chance to play the hero…” she snapped and then inwardly groaned. As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them.

“Is…is that actually what you think?” he frowned, looking like puppy dog she’d just kicked across the floor.

“No, its not…” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean…”

“I was worried about you!” he pressed, “Katie, you’re my best friend and I couldn’t cope losing you as well…”

As well as Bucky.

His sentence hung, unfinished, making her feel like shit. She sighed and crossed the room, slipping her arms around his waist. After a second or two he unfolded his arms and hugged her back.

“You should have called me.” He sighed, his tone softening as she lay her head on his chest.“It was so frustrating. Fury was refusing to do anything, if I knew how to fly one of those damned jets I’d have taken one myself…"

“Ask Clint for some flying lessons.” she said, stepping back to look up at him, sighing again as his face displayed no amusement at her attempted joke. “Look, I’m sorry, truth is, I didn’t think. We just got caught up and I didn’t want to drag you into something that wasn’t your fight. This was down to Tony and a very long list of people he has pissed off…”

Steve snorted as he released her from his grip “Well then it isn’t your fight either is it?”

“He’s my brother, Steve, I’d die for him if I had to.” she shrugged.

“How is he now?” Steve asked, following her towards the bar area.

“Seems ok.” she said, stepping behind it. “Recovering from the surgery, destroyed all his Iron Man suits…”

“He what?”

“Clean Slate protocol… blew them all up. Including the one he had made for me.” she slid an open beer across the bar top towards him. He caught it as he settled down on a stool, shaking his head.

“Wait, he made you a suit?” Steve frowned “An Iron Man suit?”

“Iron Maiden…” she grinned, leaning on the bar opposite him as he looked at her blankly. She rolled her eyes and grinned “They’re a band…rock… add them to the list.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and pulled out the notebook she’d gifted to him the year, making a note of the name, before he slipped it back into his jacket pocket.

“So he made you a suit…” he said, motioning her to continue.

“Yeah, well wasn’t much point seeing as I only got to wear it for like half an hour or whatever. It was only a prototype, nothing I could use with SHIELD either as it was too conspicuous, not that it matters anyway as he blew them all up, like a massive firework display”

“Why?” he frowned, bottle paused halfway to his mouth.

“Some kind of outward gesture to Pepper, basically said that any designs for a new one she gets to help him with…”

Steve took a big pull of his beer and swallowed. “That’s a big step for him.”

“Yeah, I know. He loves her.” Katie swallowed a mouthful of beer “And she loves him, she’s good for him.”

“Is she ok now after the whole Extremis thing?”

“Yeah. Tony managed to engineer an antidote with a bit of help from the SHIELD lab and she’s good.”

“And how are you?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Katie snorted, shaking her head “absolutely exhausted by all of it. Gods, Aliens, crazy assed super soldiers that explode…” her eyes narrowed as she eyed him playfully and suspiciously “you’re not gonna explode are you?”

“Not planning on it, no.” his crooked grin spread across his face.

***********

March 2013.

Any doctor would cry if they visited SHIELD; the caffeine and alcohol intake of pretty much every worker there would way exceed a dose construed to be healthy. Mind you, if you asked any agent whether they’d give up coffee or alcohol, they’d say alcohol in a heartbeat. Well, most of them. Katie couldn’t imagine surviving without an ice cold beer on a hot summer’s day, but she also didn’t function until she had her morning cup of Joe. It was a tough choice to make.

Not today though, she needed coffee. And lots of it. After ‘going rogue’ to chase the Mandarin with her brother Fury was pissed and as such was basically giving her the most boring thing he could think of- working through piles of mission reports, analysing and cross referencing them with others to pick up on common threads .To be honest, she didn’t mind it too much. After the excitement of the festive period she had welcomed a relatively quiet return to work, and didn’t particularly give a shit what Fury thought about her either. That said, it was heavy going, but as with anything she was soon engrossed, circling a part of the hard copy of the report with highlighter pen, before glancing back at the screen to cut and paste it into the Scrapbook App she used to trace trends with, letting out a groan.

Nope, this was officially crap.

Steve’s morning wasn’t much better. After one particularly gruelling Ops Training session, whereby one of the newest kids suffered a broken nose after colliding painfully with a stray shock baton, he showered and headed up to find Katie. She’d skipped the Ops training, not particularly needing it to be fair as she was a dead shot as it was, but her main reason was she was buried in work that Fury had dropped on her desk. He found her sat, paper in her hand and she was looking her computer screen. She sighed, scratching at her head before she dropped the file onto the desk letting out a groan. It was such a pure, natural action, Steve felt he was interrupting something, even though he knew he wasn’t. So he gave a little cough and as she turned round, her pretty face cracking into a smile which he returned.

“Fancy lunch?” he asked her.

She nodded instantly “God yes. Can we get FroYo after?”

“Yeah but don’t let me pile it with all that crap this time!” he shot her his best playfully disapproving look as he remembered the first time she had taken him to the Frozen Yoghurt stall. He had loaded his with all sorts of different things and the result had been beyond foul.

Katie gave a laugh and picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. He held the door for her and she stepped under his arm, and he followed her to the elevator.

“Stick to chocolate chip, mint and cookie dough!“ she said, stepping into it. “Trust me.”

They strode across the foyer and into the early spring sun. Katie pulled her jacket tighter around herself as they crossed the street.

“How are you just wearing a shirt?” she asked, looking at Steve as he fell into step besides her, making sure he was on the side nearest the road. He noticed that she’d long since given up chiding him on this old fashioned habit after he had revealed it was something he used to do for his mom too, and Bucky’s younger sister. She’s simply rolled her eyes but today he swore he saw something that looked like a soft smile flicker on her lips when he positioned himself on her left, but as quick as he noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s not too bad. Been through worse.” He grinned as he opened the door to the Deli for her. He followed her in and stood besides her in the queue and became aware that she was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, turning to her exasperatedly. Katie couldn’t help but grin, she enjoyed winding the usually mild mannered man up

“I’m trying to imagine how you would look with a beard. And with shorter hair.” she said causing the Captain to roll his eyes. He was used to her utter random comments now. She was very like her brother in that respect, her mind moved at about 100 miles an hour and half the time he had no idea what made her come out with the stuff she did and to be honest, he’d long since given up attempting to understand.

“Not gonna happen.”

“What the hair cut or the beard?” she asked.

“Neither.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Captain America doesn’t have a beard.” he shook his head.

“Steve Rogers could…”

She was impossible, but Steve couldn’t help but want to laugh. This playfulness was the thing that he enjoyed the most, how she could just treat him like any other punk she knew.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting?” he rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face as she stepped forward in the queue.

“Yeah, you.” she spun round to face him, grinning “Several times. But you still come back for more.”

“Well I have the distinct impression if I didn’t you’d hunt me down anyway”

They ordered and ate their lunch, Steve filling her in on the ops drill and after Fro-Yo they made arrangements to slob out that evening at Steve’s with a film. Katie headed back to her office to continue sifting through the Mount Everest of reports she had to do. As with anything once she got the bit between her teeth, she completely zoned out. It was only when she heard a gabble of voices all bidding each other goodbye that she looked up from her work. It was dark outside, and past 6.

“Shit…” she groaned as the realisation washed over her. She was supposed to be at Steve’s for half past. She clicked to save her work whilst calling him at the same time, phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder.

“So…I’m running late” she apologised the instant he answered. He chuckled.

“I thought that you said the one good thing about being confined to desk duties was that you set the hours!”

“Yeah, well I got caught up in something…but I’m leaving now. Do you want me to grab pizza on the way?”

“Sounds good, not Chicago Style though. I’m hankering for a proper piece of pie.”

“God you’re such a New Yorker.” she rolled her eyes.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” he said, his voice taking on a mock hurt tone and she could imagine him pouting on the other end of the phone.

“Hmmm, I’m undecided. Right, I’m going now…see you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

“What are you my dad?”

“Old enough to be” he shot back.

“Touche.” she sniggered, cutting the call

*******

“Boring New York style for Mr S Rogers…” she spoke into the intercom and he buzzed her in. By the time she’d climbed the stairs he was waiting at the door to his flat, leaning on the door frame.

“Bout time…” he muttered, taking the boxes off her “Was about to send a search party.”

“Mario’s was packed” she said, kicking off her sneakers and heading straight through to his kitchen to grab a beer out of his fridge without waiting for him to offer, knowing he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to.

Steve headed into the living room, depositing the 3 boxes on the coffee table and reaching straight in for one of the pepperoni slices before Katie flopped down next to him, handing him a beer.

“What we ticking off the list tonight?” she asked.

“A Few Good Men.” he said, nodding at the tv where he had queued the movie up ready.

“Wait...did you manage to navigate that Android box all by yourself…” she looked at him and he sighed.

“I’m not completely useless ya know…”

“Jury’s out.” she teased, curling her legs up onto the sofa next to her.

They watched the film. Steve got most of the references within it. He chuckled in the right places, and laughed out loud when Katie was unable to stop herself uttering the immortal line “You can’t handle the truth” When the film had finished, Katie unfolded herself from where she had been sat and they launched into Steve’s favourite part of Movie Nights- the post film analysis.

“Who was the guy who played the colonel…errr Jessup?” he looked at her.

“Jack Nicholson” she said, “Amazing actor. He’s in a few on your list.”

“He was good. Kaffee annoyed me a little, arrogant, cocksure.”

“Reminds me of Tony” Katie sniggered.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything” he said, giving a little smirk.

“You enjoy it?” she asked.

“Yeah, very good. Better than the one we watched the other night anyway.”

“Yeah, pisses me off though. I mean Galloway, she’s a strong female military woman and they still have to go with the romance angle. And with Kaffee too. Personally I’d have punched him in the face several times.“

“It does seem to be a tried and tested format” he said, leaning back against the cushions on his couch “Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy wins girl over…”

“Appeals to the hopeless romantic in all of us.” Katie shrugged “Crap like that, happy endings and all, never happens unless it’s in a film. What’s more likely to happen is boy gets you into bed and then fucks off when the chase is over. Well, most men anyway.”

Whilst her action and mannerisms remained neutral, the bitterness in her voice gave her away and Steve felt a surge of anger towards her ex. He’d never met the guy and still wanted to punch his lights out for the way he’d treated her. They continued to chat for a bit longer until Katie glanced at her watch,and seeing the time decided to call it a night. Steve walked her down to her car, he always did without fail, another thing she had given up chiding him for and when he came back upstairs and got in the shower, he found himself straying back to the first time he had seen her, the minute she had stepped into the light in the boxing gym and he’d found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

The more he stood there in the shower and thought about her, the more he started to feel something…well…different. And he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it that he found her attractive? Well of course he did. To be honest, he reckoned you’d have to be blind not to. And if he was totall honest, since he’d seen her the first time in that little boxing gym in New York he had noticed how pretty she was. She had the figure of the stars of his time. Hour glass waist, brunette hair, shapely ass and legs and quite large breasts considering she was so slim. But what did it for him were her eyes. Deep, warm green pools that he could lose himself in quite happily. And that smile, that fucking smile that could make him stop in his tracks when she flashed it. But it was more than just that, she was…well…just Katie.

It was strange, really, she reminded him so much of Peggy in some ways, but in others she was so different. Both were vivacious, smart, strong willed and beautiful. But where Peggy had been harsh, after a military upbringing, Katie had a softer edge to her. She was still ferocious at times, but she was a people person, and somehow knew exactly how to explain and understand what he was trying to say even when he struggled to himself.She made him feel at ease. With that in mind it wasn’t surprising they had grown so close. He could trust her and knew that she would do anything for him because she was a good person. And she made it so easy to be around, he didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness around her.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself a friend he could be as honest and open with again, one he would happily lay his life on the line for, not just out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love and friendship.

Who you trying to kid, Rogers?

He knew his feelings went deeper than that. All those times he'd felt irritation at other men looking at her or touching her, all those times he'd looked at her and just wanted to smile because she was just her... the fear he had felt when he had known she was off chasing the Mandarin and he wasn’t able to help...none of that was anything to do with mere friendship.

He leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower cubicle and groaned. He was crushing on his best friend. He was so fucked. *******

Katie’s desk arrest didn’t last long. 2 weeks later she was catapulted back into the field, on what was supposed to be a simple op, simple by SHIELD standards, anyway. They had a request from the Cuban government – all very hush, hush, of course –to take down a drug lord who ran the cartel SHIELD had tangled with last year.

Katie read the files, all the intel, pulled together a briefing and delivered it, answering questions that came her way from the team and then handed over to Steve when it was his turn to take the floor. He started issuing out his orders, and informed everyone that the 3 newest recruits would be joining them as it would be a fairly straight forward op to ease them into.

And it had been, for the most part, until one of those new recruits, Steven Adams, had frozen mid fire fight and as a consequence he’d taken 3 bullets to the chest.

“I got him…” Katie said, calmly taking aim at the hostile responsible and as soon as she knew she’d hit him, she broke cover to get to Adams, as she was closest to him. She skidded to the floor, pressing her hand to his chest and her other reached to his face, turning it to look at her.

“I got you…Adams…look at me…” she said gently, her hand warm, wet and slick with the young man’s blood. Steve dropped besides her and she turned to face him.

“I can’t stop the bleeding…” she said, her tone giving away exactly how worried she was.

“Medic, NOW!” Steve yelled, looking around frantically for help “We need emergency evac…”

“This is just like Coulson all over again…” Katie mumbled to no one in particular as she reached into her belt and retrieved a tab of morphine. Steve gripped the young man’s hand as she administered the pain relief.

“Son,look at me…” he instructed and Adams horrified eyes turned to Steve “That’s it, keep looking at me…”

Steve swallowed, figthing to keep his face calm. He’d seen that look so many times on the battle field, the look that told him the man who lay injured knew he was injured beyond repair, that there was nothing to be done for him. But this was now, 70 years into the future, medical science had worked so many wonders since then, they had to be able to do something, right?

“RUMLOW WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” Katie screamed, her tone frantic.

“Still got hostiles on us!” Rumlow replied in his ear “Evans has taken 4 down but they’re approaching from the right! We need to cover the medics in and now you’re down there…”

Steve instantly looked round before he looked back at Katie “We can take him ourselves”

She bit her lip, looking at the young man, then up to Steve again. Everything in their training told them not to move casualties, but Steve knew if they stayed here he was going to bleed out.Katie seemed to come to the same conlcusion a she nodded.

"Alright…Brock, we’re coming to you. Have the medics prep the bay…Evans, we need top cover…”

“Roger, Nova…”

“Steven… we’re gonna move you now.” she said, looking at him, her voice calm and level. She took his hand out of Steve’s which allowed the captain to haul him into a lift over his shoulder. Once he had the man positioned he gave a small jerk of his head and Katie picked up his shield in one hand, and her pistol in the other as they broke cover, sprinting across the front of the industrial yard towards the jet. In the corner of his eye, Steve spotted 2 hostiles moving but before he could shout a warning, Katie had fired off 2 shots, the thumps and lack of returning meaning each bullet had hit its target. Soon they were joined by Rumlow who flanked them up the ramp where she dropped the shield to the floor and offered her hand back to Adams, Steve placed him gently on the stretcher.

“It’s gonna be ok…” Katie said, soothing him as the medics bustled around, glancing up every so often to watch what they were doing.

“Can you tell my mom…I love her…and dad…” Adams was mumbling now and she shook her head.

“You can tell them yourself. “she smiled “you’ll be fine, I promise…”

“We’re locked down outside, local authorities are handling it now. How’s he looking?” Rumlow asked as he stepped up besides Steve who had stood back from where Katie was knelt by the injured man. Steve turned to Rumlow, shaking his head sadly.

“Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”

At that point Katie suddenly drew back slightly, looking at the hand held in hers, before she glanced at the medic who was sadly shaking her head. Katie threw her head back closing her eyes as her face screwed up.

“Shit.” Rumlow muttered as Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger.

“Radio base” he turned to Brock, his voice soft “Let’s get him home.”

*******

Writing mission reports wasn’t Katie’s favourite thing to do, but this one was awful. So she’d treated it like ripping off a band aid, and after a horrific nights sleep, she’d been at the T riskelion early to get it done. As a result it was little after 10 am, she was done for the day and was about to head home until she heard a familiar voice.

“Eat me…eat me…” The voice was accompanied by a bag from her favourite bakery, which was hovering in the space between the door and the frame, before Clint Barton’s head poked round the side, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey!” She beamed at her friend as he dropped a cup holder containing two coffees and the bag onto her desk before taking a seat, scooting the wheeled chair over the floor towards her.

“Heard you had a rough time of it yesterday so I brought donuts and almond croissants.And coffee.”

“Hawkeye, you are a godsend.” she said, taking a large drink and leaning back, closing her eyes.

“That the first time you’ve lost a man on a mission?” Clint asked.

“Other than Coulson.” she shrugged. “He was 24 Clint. His whole life ahead of him.”

Clint watched as she rubbed at her temple before reaching into the bag and pulling out an almond croissant. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, it must have at least been before the mission.

“How’s Cap taken it?”

“On the outside he seems ok, but I know he blames himself. Keeps saying he shouldn’t have taken him.” Katie shrugged “He’s gone with Fury to see Adams’ parents. Rather him than me.”

“This job is hard.” Clint said after a moment “We fight to keep everyone safe, but y’know, sometimes not everyone makes it. Thing is, if we can’t find a way to deal with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved at all.”

“You mean like Collateral damage?” she snorted, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that everyone one of us that are out in the field know the risks Nova, hell last year 7 of us took on a horde of Aliens in New York. For hours we fought them, and did any of us give a second thought to our own safety? No,because that’s what we do.”

His words made sense. She knew they did, but that didn’t stop the feeling in her stomach that if she had done her research more, maybe she could have spotted something that would have told them about the armour piercing rounds.

*******

Adams’ parents already knew he was dead. Which made it slightly easier. Fury had the local authorities call ahead, common practice now, but still Steve found himself sat on their couch, talking, informing them all about their son’s last moments. They hadn’t shouted, hadn’t screamed or blamed him. Instead, they’d thanked him for what he had done and for bringing him back so they could hold a proper burial.

By the time he got back to base, he was exhausted.

“Here.” Fury said, handing him a glass of scotch from the bottle he had pulled out of his desk. Steve took it, dropping into one of the sofas at the side of the large office, Fury settling into the other. Steve knew the drink couldn’t’ get him drunk, but he liked the momentary buzz he got that lasted all of 60 seconds post sip.

The scotch was smooth, he expected nothing less from the boss. And the pair of them sat in silence for a few moments.

“Ever done that before, a death message?” Fury asked, leaning back.

“Can’t say I have. Wasn’t really my job back in the day.” Steve said, undoing his tie.

“Worst part of the job. Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, never gets any easier.” Fury ran his hand over his face, and it struck Steve how tired his boss actually looked.

“Yeah, it isn’t exactly up there with my favourite thing to do.” he said, rolling the tie up and shoving it into his old Army uniform pocket.

“How’s Nova?” Fury asked.

“She’s upset.” Steve sighed “But she’s strong, she’ll be ok. I’m gonna head over and see how she is later.”

“You two spend a lot of time together outside of work.” Fury commented, innocently enough but there was something in his tone, something that was almost good natured accusation.

“Not a problem is it, Sir?” Steve asked, face straight.

“No, not at all.” Fury said “Why do you think I partnered you up in the first place? She’s a people person…”

“She’s a good friend.” Steve nodded “We get on.”

“Glad to hear it.” Fury said “There’s going to be a debrief with the Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”

Steve sighed “If they’re looking to blame someone, the buck stops with me. I should never have taken the kid.”

“Bullshit.” Fury said simply “I’ve read the reports. From what they say, he just froze.”

“He wasn’t experienced enough.”

“It was a straight forward in and out job Captain.” Fury leaned forward. “What happened was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident none the less. From the reports, neither you nor Stark could have done any more to save his life.”

Steve shrugged, the words were kind but didn’t help him feel any better.

“Taking risks is part of this job.” Fury said simply “It’s a dangerous gig.”

3 glasses of scotch and an hour later he shook the director’s hand and left the office, pulling out his phone. He didn’t want to appear like he was checking up on Katie, so he pinged her a text, dressing it up like it was him who needed to see her, which wasn’t a complete lie. He did, he was craving the normality she gave him.

Can I come over? I could do with seeing a friendly face

He read it a few times, before deciding it was casual enough before he sent it. The reply was almost instantaneous.

My door is always open for you. And I made Mac and Cheese…plenty left.

He couldn’t help but smile. One of the best things about this “new life” was the food, and her Mac and Cheese was frankly his favourite thing to eat on the planet. He shot a message back.

He changed into a pair of sweat and a hoody, hastily making his way to her penthouse and the the smile she gave him when he walked into her place instantly made him feel at ease.

“Hey…” she said, crossing the space towards him and giving him a hug which he happily melted into, a hug they both needed.

“how did it go?” she asked, pulling away.

“As well as can be expected.” He sighed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. “His mom broke down but…they were ok about it. They didn’t shout or yell…”

She flipped the lid off a beer and handed it to him. He took it, with a nod of thanks and pulled a large swig as he sat back down, staring at the bottle in his hand.

He was brooding and blaming himself, Katie could tell so she gently lay her hand on his, reaching over the counter.

“it wasn’t your fault Steve.” she said, gently. She did that all the time, knew what he was thinking. It gave him the unnerving impression that sometimes she could read his mind.

“I should have spotted that shooter…” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m the fucking mission analyst.” she sighed. “I knew from last time those guys were packing, if I’d done more research, maybe I would have found out about the armour piercing rounds…”

“You can’t seriously blame yourself?” Steve’s head shot up unable to believe she actually thought that.

“Why not?” she sighed sadly. She’d been over it a million times in her head that day and had come to the same conclusion every time. She should have spotted something, dug further. “I didn’t do my job.”

“Yes, you did.” he implored, his eyes locking onto hers “Your report clearly set out the layout, the learning from previous missions…Abrams was just too inexperienced, I should never have taken him…”

There was a pause as the microwave pinged and Katie turned to look at it.

“You know, Clint made a good point before.” she said, reaching in for the plate and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble again as she continued “This job, it’s hard. We fight to keep people safe but not everyone makes it back all the time…and if we can’t learn to live with that then maybe next time no one gets saved.”

“It feels like trading lives.” He said as she placed the plate down in front of him “It’s just wrong.”

“I know…” she said, handing him some cutlery and sat down next to him.

“You eaten?” he asked, looking at her, suddenly aware she didn’t have a plate. She nodded.

“Couldn’t have waited until now, I’d have starved to death…” she said, shrugging.

“Hardly.” he replied, mouth full, instantly realising he had said the wrong thing as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that a fat joke?” she asked, making him roll his eyes as he swallowed. That hadn’t been it at all, he was referring to the fact that she never actually stopped eating, despite her tiny frame she gave him a run for his money.

“No, that’s not… I mean you’re tiny…” he said, almost choking on his food through his protests.

“So now you’re making short jokes?” She said back, Steve looked at her, dismayed she thought he was picking on her but then he spotted the look in her eyes and rolled his own.

“Punk.”

“Jerk” she shot back.

It was the perfect way to escape the trauma and stress of the last few days. Once they had finished eating the two of them flopped down on her large L shape sofa, Steve’s legs extended along one side of the L shape, her legs on the other as she leaned against his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the smell of her shampoo…apple, he thought, along with her perfume. Her proximity was making his head buzz but he wasn’t about to move her. The contact was comforting, clearly for her as well as about an hour or so into the film- the first in the Lord of The Rings trilogy- he felt her head growing heavy. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed and as he watched her head slipped slightly. He shifted so that he could catch her gently, and grabbed a cushion from behind him. He placed it against his leg and manouvered her head so that she was lay down, gently brushing her hair off her face. She stirred slightly, snuggling down further into the cushion as he absentmindedly rubbed between her shoulder blades as her breathing grew gentle and even.

Steve stayed like that, engrossed in the film right to the end, surprisingly. He had enjoyed it. Katie hadn’t woken up, and he looked down debating whether or not to wake her or simply carry her through to her bedroom. Pondering for a moment, he decided to do neither, reaching for the remote as he sifted through to find something else to watch. He didn’t want to leave just yet, he was too comfy and too at ease. Picking one of his favourites, Casablanca, he settled down, getting himself comfy as he immersed himself in the familiar world of Rick’s Café Americain. At one point he felt his eyes growing heavy and he lay his head back, deciding to rest them for just a little while…

Cold air was blasting his hair back…there was a hole in the side of the train…then a flash of light and Bucky flew straight through the hole. “BUCKY…” he yelled, grabbing onto the side of the train, the bar in one hand as he stretched to reach his friend with the other.

“Steve…” The voice was louder, but not loud enough. No, he had to get to Bucky…

But he was gone, Steve was grasping at nothing but air.

“Steve…” Katie was doing her best to wake him from his obvious nightmare after he had jolted her awake, thrashing in his sleep. She placed both her hands on his shoulder and shook him. Softly at first, then a bit stronger, trying to shake him out of his sleep. His face contorted into a silent scream and then he jerked awake, his eyes wide, breathing deeply. It took him a while but he suddenly realised where he was and whose eyes were looking at him he took a shaky breath and lay his head back.

Damned it, he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. On her sofa.

“Shit…sorry…” he said, his voice croaky “I err…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine.” Katie said, gently “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Whilst she was gone he leaned forward, swinging his legs off the couch so his feet touched the floor, wiping his clammy head with his hands.

“Thanks…” he said as she handed him the glass. He took a large gulp, his breathing returning to normal.

“You ok?” she asked, kindly as her hand gently knotted into his, her concern evident.

“Yeah, just a nightmare…” he said softly “I’ve not had one for a while.”

“Understandable with what’s happened.” she said softly “What was it about?”

“It was…just Bucky.” he said shaking his head, “I saw him fall…”

“You know you can talk to me about it Stevie.” she said softly “It might help.”

“They’re always the same.” he said, shaking his head, swallowing thickly “I either replay him falling or me going into the ice…”

She didn’t speak, simply waited for him to continue and for a moment she though he wasn’t going to, but then after a sigh he leaned forward and placed the glass on the table and ran his hands over his face again.

“It was a Hydra train,” he started, “We had a tip that Zola, a Hydra scientist was traveling somewhere and thought that it was our chance to capture him. One step closer to taking down Hydra. There was a blast from one of their weapons and it bounced off my shield and blew open the side of the train car and Bucky was thrown out.” he blinked, swallowing “He grabbed onto a bar and it wasn’t stable, and he fell.”

Katie stayed silent for a moment before her hand curled round his shoulder and she pulled him to her, causing him to lay his head on her shoulder. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more” he said softly. The guilt ate him up every day, that he had survived, why had he deserved that any more than Bucy?

“How?” she said again. “How could you have done anymore?”

"I should have gone after him.” he said quietly.

“What would’ve changed if you had?” Katie asked “There’s no way he could have survived that fall.”

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.“ he said softly, "I should have gone after him, brought him home, done something.”

Katie remained quiet, her hand gently running through his hair which was nice, far too nice. He took a deep breath and sat up moving away from her touch.

"What time is it?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Nearly six in the morning” Katie replied

“You’re kidding?” Steve snorted.

“Nope. You want some coffee?” she asked, standing up.

“Yeah if that’s ok…” he replied, following her to the kitchen. From her body language he could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if she wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know if your Ma ever told you, but it’s rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her.”

“And as you know, I’m useless with women.” he said, as he sat down at the barstool on the breakfast bar. He watched her, but he didn’t say anything. She bustled about, throwing some bread in the toaster and went to the fridge for the butter, marmalade and jam, sliding them onto the island. At that point Steve held his hands up.

“You don’t have to-” he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare, similar to the ones Peggy used to give him, the look that could stop him in his tracks it was that stern.

“Shut up.” she said, pouring them both a cup of the coffee before adding milk and a spoon of sugar to both, passing one to him. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before handing it to him and adding more bread to the machine.

His stomach rumbled and he gave in, smearing butter over his toast. He eyed the jam curiously. He’d had marmalade before but…he looked at Katie and she nodded. “It’s good…”

So he added some, and after a bite he concluded she was right, and nodded in agreement. Once the next round of toast was done she sat next to him.

“So…when did I fall asleep.” she asked, swallowing her food.

“About an hour into the film.” he said, taking another bite of his toast.

She shook her head “What an ass…”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He replied honestly with a shrug, chewing his breakfast “to be honest I enjoyed it.”

She looked at him “What, me drooling on your leg?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide “I meant the film.”

“I know…” she smirked, and he rolled his eyes before he smiled softly.

“Punk…”

Tags @the-omni-princess

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #katie stark #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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littlebearbun · 6 years

Text

Stanley Pines x Reader; Home

This is 100% self indulgent cliche cheese. I played @gfdatingsim and absolutely loved it, and it inspired me to write again for the first time in months. I hope this is remotely in character, but in my defense I am out of practice. Thank you to the dating sim team for giving me something so good and happy that I wanted to write. I cannot heap enough praises on the game.

Anyways, the premise. I was thinking the other day: What if Stan lost his memories of his lover after Weirdmageddon?

(I might continue this with some body worship for Stan after he remembers more but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

PART 2: they kiss

https://littlebearbun.tumblr.com/post/176757697957/stanley-pines-x-reader-home-pt-2

You missed Stanley.

Mabel and Dipper saw the slump in your shoulders, the frown on your lips when you weren't thinking about holding a smile. They asked, but Stan hadn't told them about you, and how could you when he didn't remember? So you told them you'd lost a loved one, which was true, and went back to work in wake of their condolences.

You missed him so goddamn much.

Mabel made him laugh, not his little chuckle but a deep belly laugh that shook his broad shoulders and lit up his face, and your heart ached. You missed his calloused hand in yours, his voice in your ear, that soft look he gave you when he thought you weren't looking. You missed kissing him breathless, his smile against your mouth, his hands everywhere.

You missed telling him you loved him and watching his face catch fire.

And love him you did, which made sweeping floors and cleaning up the Mystery Shack all the more torturous, to be so close but so far from him.

You'd been under the floating pyramid when, Dipper told you later, Stan had allowed Bill into his mind and Ford had erased all his memories. You had jumped up from the porch steps and ran towards him as he, Ford, and the twins approached the Shack, but Ford held up a six fingered hand, and Stanley looked at you, head cocked to the side. You never knew the phrase "Who's the smokin' babe?" coming from Stan would rip your heart from your chest.

The twins had told him the truth that they knew. That you'd worked there for a year and a half, taking care of the Shack with Soos. He accepted that easily enough, and you had followed them inside as Dipper and Mabel tried desperately to get him to remember something, anything.

And remember he did, thanks to Mabel's scrapbook. He remembered Waddles first, then Mabel, Dipper, Soos, and Ford. He was chuckling and holding the twins tight to his sides, the lot of them crying happy tears.

Your tears were heartbroken.

Mabel had no pictures of you in her scrapbook.

Refusing pictures seemed stupid in retrospect. You always ducked out of them, laughing as she tried to catch you and never did. You didn't like pictures of yourself, especially not ones that would go into such an important book.

You would have given anything to be in it now, Stanley's eyes so unreadable we he looked at you from his armchair, fussed over by his family.

Family you weren't a part of anymore.

---

"Hello, Stanley," you said, smiling at him as he walked in to the Shack. He waved a calloused hand at you, eyes glued to a magazine in his hands, and continued walking to the living room, presumably to his armchair. You sighed, the grin falling from your face and continuing to sweep.

You'd keep trying until he remembered. You wouldn't give up on Stan.

"Hey."

Ford's smooth voice startled you, and you whirled to face him, plastering that smile on your face again. "Ford! How are you?" You cocked your head at him. "Did you need something? I haven't got the gift shop completely cleaned up, but I do know where most of the tools are--"

"No, no," he shook his head, looking you over, calculating. You could almost hear him thinking. "I had something to ask."

"Shoot," you said, dread curling in your stomach. What if he asked you to leave, now that the Shack was mostly fixed up? Stanford had no attachment to you. What if-

"You and Stanley were close, weren't you?"

The air left your lungs in a quick exhale, like you'd been punched. "W-what?"

"I see the way you look at him. Like a lost puppy, hoping for treats." Ouch? He must have seen you scrunch your face because he backpedalled immediately, cheeks a bit pink. "I mean. You look at him like you miss him. Like you...liked him."

The past tense hurt, and it was a huge understatement, but you didn't mention it.

"I may not know Stanley as well as I used to, but I know...if he let you stick around this long, he must have liked you too."

You sighed, continuing to sweep, unable to look at Ford anymore, and instead focused on the floorboards.

"We were...together," you said softly. "Stanley didn't want to tell the twins until after he got you back, so it was less of a shock than a missing twin grunkle." You smiled a little, fondly. "I understood. I was fine as long as I had Stanley, you know? Everything in the world was brighter when I had him." You stopped, breath shuddering, eyes burning. "But...he doesn't remember. I'm not sure if it was because I wasn't that important after all, or-"

"Stanley isn't cruel," Ford said, voice stern now. "He never has been. I'm sure you were important. Are, I mean. I'm positive it's just because those memories weren't recovered yet. We just have to find the trigger." At the promise of an experiment of sorts, you could hear the excitement in his voice, but you shook your head.

"I don't want to make him uncomfortable by forcing something he doesn't remember," you said softly. "I'm thinking I'll just go about daily life here. Wait and see. He's been through enough."

"He would want to remember," a gruff voice said. "I'm sure of it."

Whatever you were about to say next died on your tongue. Stanley stood in the doorway, a frown on his lips, his fez in his hands. Probably to keep him from wringing his fingers like he always did when he was nervous.

Your cheeks went bright red. Breathing hurt.

"Stanley," you whispered. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," he said, and took a step towards you. Ford cleared his throat and left the room. Stanley didn't look away from you, his eyes that same unreadable look from the night of Weirdmageddon.

"I'm sorry," you started, clinging to the handle of the broom. "I know you don't remember, and I didn't want to make it awkward. Gods, Stanley...Just tell me to go."

It was the only way you could ever bring yourself you stay away.

"Somehow I don't think I want to do that," he said, stepping closer to you. You held perfectly still, barely breathing as he got within arms length, so so close to you.

"I feel like something's missing when I look at you. A naggin' in the back of my head. I have since I saw you cryin' that night. And you say it's cause...you an' I were a thing?" He scoffed under his breath. "I guess I don't see why you'd lie about it. I'm not exactly Gravity Falls most eligible bachelor."

"That's a lie!" You narrowed your eyes at him. "You just can't remember the times I've chose you over everyone else."

He looked sheepish after a moment, scratching the back of his head. "If you say so, toots."

Silence fell over the both of you for a while as you thought about what this meant. He didn't remember, but he believed it, so...what did that mean for you?

"So...I know it can't be the same, but...can I stop pretending to be a stranger?" You reached up, hesitating just before his cheek, and then dropped your hand. "I know you may not be comfortable with everything we had before, but maybe we could start talking again? And watching The Duchess together? And making pancakes? We don't have to be...together if you don't want, but I miss you, Stanley."

"Y-Yeah, I think I would be ok with that." His eyes searched your face, before he sighed, shoulders relaxing. "I musta felt damn lucky every day to have you. I mean, look at you. Still waiting for an old man like me."

"You still have me, Stanley," you said, so, so sure. "For now, we can be friends again. I don't want to force anything, or make you uncomfortable." Truthfully, this was more than you had dared hope for. "And you can take it at your pace, if you remember little things, or if you...want to hold my hand or something."

He cleared his throat, cheeks pink. You couldn't help your smile. He was so cute.

"Alright. Thanks, sugar." The pet name seemed to slip out, as Stanley himself seemed surprised by it. Your pulse jumped, a blush adorning your own cheeks now.

Maybe there was hope after all.

-----

Pancakes came with laughter, now.

At first it was a little awkward. Stanley had to relearn who you were. He had to ask what music you liked when he put on a record, only to grin at you when you immediately sang along to whatever old bop came on first. You told him you used to dance with him to it, here in the living room, and danced in place until he chuckled and shimmied his shoulders to the beat.

He had to relearn your tastes in food (lots of sugar in your coffee and lots of syrup on your pancakes, both of which he was playfully disgusted by). He relearned what made you laugh, how you looked at him every time he made a pun before snorting in laughter.

He relearned how you smiled, how you laughed.

You still worked in the Mystery Shack, but days were easier now, happier. Stanley was your friend again. He filled the hours with stories you had heard before but would always treasure hearing again. He filled your days with gravely laughter and banter and you felt home.

Tonight, though, ended a bit differently than the days you had become accustomed to.

Stan locked the front door to the mystery shack and turned to you, arms crossed. You put the last bobble head in its place on the shelf before blinking at him.

"What's on your mind, Stan?"

"I was wonderin'...Well, I mean, did you want to watch a movie tonight?"

"Sure! I always love re-watching The Duchess with you, Stan." You grinned at him. Stanley, though, shook his head.

"Not just a movie. I mean...well, would it be ok if it was a date?"

Your heart leapt. You opened and closed your mouth. Stanley deflated.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep, it's just ya seemed to be havin' fun with me still and I thought you still-"

"Yes!" You clasped your hands in front of yourself and shifted from foot to foot to keep from running to him and crushing him in a hug. "I would love that, Stanley!" You beamed, eyes burning, and Stanley gave you a relieved smile.

"Oh, that's...that's good, toots. I can't say I'm not glad."

An idea struck you, and you stepped closer to him. "Hey, Stanley?" You sounded serious, and Stanley easily picked up the atmosphere change.

"Yeah?"

"Does that mean...I can touch you if I want?"

His face melted into a smirk, one you recognized from when you first started going out, when he deflected every affection with something lewd. "Where you gonna touch me, sugar?" he asked, and you huffed at him.

"Not like that! Stanley!" You laughed, decidedly not adding the fact that you would have wanted that, too. "I mean like..." You reached for his hand and held it, interlacing your fingers. "Like this."

Stanley stared at you, disbelief changing to a warm look that you hadn't seen in almost two months.

"Yeah, pumpkin. I think that would be fine."

-----

You sat on the couch with Stanley, British accents faded background noise of the TV as you ran your thumb over the back of his hand over and over, reveling in the contact. He wanted to hold hands with you. He'd grabbed your hand as soon as you'd both sat down, not looking at you, and you'd snuggled back into the couch, not touching him anywhere but your hands.

Stanley wasn't watching the movie either, apparently, because he usually cried around when the Duchess was so heartbroken and worried for her future.

You yawned, covering it with your free hand, and Stanley looked down at you, chuckling. He pulled his hand from yours and before you could protest, he had yawned too, stretched his arms high above his head, and wrapped an arm around you. A classic Stanley move. He pulled you to his chest, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder, and you let out a happy sigh before you could stop yourself, curling closer to him. He was so warm, so broad and perfect holding you like this.

"Sleep if you want, toots," he said softly. "I ain't going anywhere."

His breathing lulled you further, made you drowsy. You wanted to stay awake, to treasure every moment that Stan spent with you like this, even if he didn't remember what you had yet. He still wanted-

"Hey."

You looked up at Stan blearily and he gave you a look so soft your insides went molten.

"Here."

He rest his hand palm up against his thigh, waiting. Slowly, sure you were dreaming, you put your hand in his, and Stan intwined his fingers with yours with a soft hum that vibrated through his chest.

Your eyes closed. You always slept much better with Stanley at your side, and tonight was no different.

You were home.

#gfdatingsim #stanley pines #grunkle stan #reader insert #grunkle stan x reader #gravity falls

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kissednkilled-blog · 7 years

Text

My Love Letter to Lorde and her Melodrama

Dear Ella,

I waited four years for Melodrama. Even when I didn’t know it would called Melodrama, or that it would be what it is, I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for this album. I think I’ve always needed this album. I have never heard an album that encapsulated my feelings so well: heartbreak, but obsession; freedom, but heaviness.

The way Green Light opens immediately pulled me in, feeling the intensity and raw heartbreak you put into the vocals in the first thirty seconds or so of the song. You created a song that taught me that it was ok to feel this way, but you can’t let it be all that you are. Sober haunts me in the best way possible. It follows me around, whispering its chilling pre-chorus and catchy beginning and end in my ear constantly. I feel the way you do. It’s easy to ignore pain while you are lost in a dance. So that’s what I do when I hear this song: dance. I let go of my emotions for three minutes and seventeen seconds, and wait until I have to sit down to address them once more.

Homemade Dynamite is a party anthem, a song of strength and immortality. Only you could sing things like “You know I think you’re awesome, right?” and make me feel something in it. It reminds me of how I feel while dancing with my best friends: infinite. The Louvre is the love I fear: a frustrating obsession with someone. But now I realize that is how I've felt before. I had feelings for someone, and they came upon me so quickly. I saw them as a friend one day, and the next they were so much more.

I had to wait a few days before I wrote about Liability. I had to gather my thoughts, sort out what I wanted to say. That’s how much this song means to me. You perfectly encapsulated the desire to be more to someone, to become involved with them, but to at the same time know that you were too much for them. I feel this way everyday. I feel it in the way people begin to pull away, the way people react to my actions. You’re right. “Get you wild, make you leave.” I’m fun for a moment, for a short amount of time. Then I become too much, and they run away.

Hard Feelings, to me, is like flipping through a scrapbook. A collection of lovely, tender moments that you’d never want to forget. But as a love becomes more and more complicated, you have to begin to let go of those moments, or they’ll eat you alive. The way two pairs of eyes lock or how they brush past me stay with me, but I’m beginning to forget those feelings. They were tearing me apart. It was time to let go of that endless summer afternoon. Loveless is the turning point in my eyes. You let go of your love, and you feel ready to screw someone up. Screw someone up, the way they did to you. Even after I’ve let go of them, I can’t help but continue to exist for them. Stupid emotions, or hard feelings.

Sober II is raw and tragic. The strings send a chill down my spine, feeling the loss and heartbreak that echoed through your heart. Writer in the Dark is superbly heartbreaking. It’s so strong, you’re so strong, but at the same time you have to remember when you were strong so you can continue to be. As an amazing analyzation of love, I can see how I would react in your situation. I would get angry, but fall apart, and learn to exist without them. And I would be my dramatic self, and write something heartbreaking about them, as that would be my coping mechanism. I think that the writing part is on its way. I’m still working through the other steps.

Supercut is so happy and full of life. The lyrics speak to my head and heart. I want to believe that I can still be with them, but I realized while listening to this song that I remember things in their greatest form. My mind censors and cancels out anything that stains a memory with sadness and disappointment. So when I’m reaching for my happiest moments, I’m not getting the real flurry of emotions I felt. I’ve since begun to sort through my memories, and see which make me truly happy. Liability (Reprise) filled every empty hole I was left with after Liability. Up until this point, I had myself entirely convinced that I was a problem. That I was too much, an annoyance, an embarrassment. Since hearing this song, I’ve tried to see myself in a better light. “You’re not what you think you are.” The perfect counter to the chilling truth to Liability. It also warms my heart that you were able to heal and recuperate after the pain you felt during the time you wrote Liability. And so I’ve taken my inspiration from you, and begun the healing process.

Perfect Places opened my eyes. I kept trying to change the walls around me, to create a “perfect place.” But I’ve found that that really is not possible. Our world is how it is, and it will never be perfect, but I can leave the positive mark I hope to.

I just want to thank you. For changing me as a listener, writer, and mostly, person. You are my biggest inspiration, and I hope that someday I can also write music that touches the hearts of so many.

Melodrama is about letting go, living life to the fullest, and moving on. So this is goodbye. To all the pain, all the heartbreak. I’m done with that. I’m ready to live. Truly. Melodrama Forever.

Joey

@kissednkilled

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erraticfairy · 6 years

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Your Clutter May Be Concealing Some Critical Truths

It’s hard to imagine that the clutter stacked on our countertops, and stuffed inside a few cabinets, closets and maybe the garage could signify an important revelation. It’s hard to imagine that it’d spark insights about who we are and what we need.

But it can.

For Brooke McAlary, who pens the blog Slow Your Home, decluttering revealed all sorts of uncomfortable truths: “I had no idea what I stood for, what was important in my life, what deserved my time and attention and what didn’t.”

McAlary wanted to portray a specific image to others, which was actually driving her desire to buy more and have certain things: “I wanted people to think I ‘had it all together,’ that I was successful and living a good, enviable life. I wanted to own the clothes, wear the makeup, have the new house, not because they were important to me but because I wanted to appear successful.”

Maybe you can relate. Maybe you grew up in a family where appearances were everything, where your possessions somehow spoke to the person you were. Maybe you’re living in an area where that’s the case, where big homes, designer bags and pricey cars mean you’re successful—and ultimately that you’re worthy. Maybe you’re trying to keep up with the Joneses online instead of next door.

And so, you’ve accumulated everything from a closet crammed with clothes (with tags) to boxes of seasonal decorations to several collections of fine china and random trinkets. And you’ve unwittingly adopted values that when you really think about it, actually have nothing to do with what you sincerely believe.

Maybe you grew up in a family where gifts meant love, or there wasn’t enough money for presents. And so, you’ve given what feels like thousands and thousands of toys to your kids (and have thousands of dollars of debt).

Maybe your clutter reveals the person you yearn to be, but have yet to become: the athlete, the well-read book collector, the natural-born chef, the super creative mom who loves to craft and give homemade gifts. Which is why you cling to: the unused exercise equipment in the basement; the bikes and triathlon gear in the shed; the shelves of unread books; the cabinets of unused appliances; the plastic bins filled with glue, scrapbook paper, old magazines and glitter.

Maybe your clutter represents someone you’re not anymore. McAlary had a hard time getting rid of her jewelry supplies, even though she’d closed her jewelry business. “My identity for the past few years had been tied directly to that jewelry, and to give it away was admitting I wasn’t the person I thought I was,” she writes in her insightful new book Slow: Simple Living for a Frantic World. “I wasn’t the go-get-‘em budding entrepreneur or the hard worker or the mom who managed to balance work and stay-at-home parenting, and what did that say about me?”

Our clutter often represents our someday, a day that actually never comes. What does is the shame, which keeps lingering. You wonder what’s wrong with you. You wonder why you can’t get it together. You realize it must be because you’re inherently flawed.

You’re not. You’re simply changing. Or you were never interested in those things to begin with. And that’s OK, too.

McAlary views decluttering as “a wonderful place to begin the work of excavating our true selves, our values, our priorities, and creating the time and space with which we can begin to live a more truthful version of life.”

In other words, getting rid of the excess can create the opportunity to shed old and no longer true parts of ourselves. It can create the opportunity to relinquish old needs, wants and wishes. It can create the opportunity to start living according to our most significant values.

McAlary eventually gave away all her jewelry, because it was dragging her down and keeping her stuck. As she writes in her book, “I continued to tie my identity to this stuff, but instead of being a positive thing, it had morphed into self-loathing and failure. Why would I want to keep that around?”

Letting go of the jewelry actually felt liberating—and it was both less scary and more exhilarating than she thought it would be.

She also let go of wanting to appear successful to others and started asking herself more meaningful (and tougher) questions: “What matters to me? What do I want my life to stand for? What do I want my legacy to be?”

What if you asked yourself these questions, too?

McAlary wrote her own eulogy when she was 31. “[I] have used it ever since as a foundation on which I’ve slowly built a life full of the things that are important to me. And while my eulogy had nothing at all to do with decluttering, I would never have had the clarity to sit and write it had I not spent time shedding layers of stuff for years before.”

She includes her eulogy in the book, which she imagines her children saying:

Quick to laugh, creative, compassionate, with a wicked sense of humor, Mom was never without a new plan or adventure on the horizon. She…was spontaneous, loyal, introspective, and believed wholeheartedly that we all have a responsibility to leave the world a better place than we found it. Mom, we’ll miss you always. Thank you for our roots, but thank you even more for our wings.

When we declutter, we stop carrying the weight of all our things, of all our past needs and wishes and identities, of values we no longer value, of shame that only shatters us.

“We can let go of the guilt and the obligations and the stories we tell ourselves about who we are,” McAlary said. “[A]nd we can put that time and energy in to things that truly matter to us.”

Which might mean savoring short trips and adventures with your family, practicing restorative yoga, taking dance classes, hosting dinner parties (where the main course is pizza from the delicious place down the block), and having items in your home that you absolutely love, that genuinely reflect who you are. Right now.

from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2wZDeQ4 via theshiningmind.com

#World of Psychology #child psychology

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positivepsychologyinterventions · 6 years

Text

Your Clutter May Be Concealing Some Critical Truths

But it can.

You’re not. You’re simply changing. Or you were never interested in those things to begin with. And that’s OK, too.

Letting go of the jewelry actually felt liberating—and it was both less scary and more exhilarating than she thought it would be.

What if you asked yourself these questions, too?

She includes her eulogy in the book, which she imagines her children saying:

When we declutter, we stop carrying the weight of all our things, of all our past needs and wishes and identities, of values we no longer value, of shame that only shatters us.

from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2wZDeQ4 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #World of Psychology

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