#for the record the most painful thing I ever did to myself was get weight loss surgery

[luckysevenwrites]

Moving back together

After over a month apart Y/n shows up outside of Jaehyun’s room. Jaehyun doesn’t know what to think. But he does know one thing you are the last person he expect to see standing outside his door. 

Little bit of agnst but we are moving towards happiness I promise. 

Laying in his bed with his arms behind his head and the music from his record player playing softly Jaehyun closed his eyes and wondered for what had to be the millionth time now what you were doing. He hadn’t seen you since the day he stopped by at the hospital. He wished he could say that things had gotten better since that day. That he started to move on, heal, or whatever people called it. But he hasn’t, he’s just been faking it and doing a poor job of it. Everyone around him knows that he’s miserable without you around and that he can barely be around the couples in the group. Maybe he should try going out on a date like Johnny suggested. 

It’s as he is thinking this over that there's a knock on his door. Groaning Jaehyun gets out of bed to answer the door. He’s sure it’s one of his members about to invite him somewhere. Before you they were fine with leaving him alone, after you they’ve all been worried and have been trying to get him to socialize more than they ever have before. With an excuse ready, Jaehyun opens the door and freezes in place. 

There you are standing in his doorway. You’re in your hospital uniform, eye’s red, and your bottom lip is trembling. Behind you is Yuta and Taeyong both look like they are ready to grab you and pull you out of there. All he would have to do is say the word and they would make you leave. They must be able to tell from the look on his face that he’s okay for now. Because as they walk away Yuta gives Jaehyun a call if you need us nod. Focusing his attention back on you, Jaehyun can see that you are barely hanging on. 

“Y/n what happened?”

“”I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I broke up with you and that I hurt you,” you start to cry, Jaehyun pulls you into him and wraps his arms around. He tries to comfort you and calm you down but you keep babbling on. “I just thought that if we weren’t together I wouldn’t cause any pain. I didn’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to be hurt either. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Okay, okay just calm down and we can talk about this.” Jaehyun manages to move the two of you towards the bed. Once he’s seated you wrap yourself around him like you’re trying to fuse your body to his. Not sure what else to do Jaehyun just holds you and lets you continue to cry. Eventually you wear yourself out and fall asleep. Adjusting the two of you in his bed Jaehyun is able to lay down with you on top of him. 

“Don’t go,” you whisper while your arms tighten around him. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jaehyun tells you, unsure if you are even awake to hear him. 

Slowly coming to consciousness Jaehyun feels a weight on his chest, slowly opening his eyes he looks down and sees a mess of familiar hair. It wasn’t a dream you really did come to his place last night and cried your eyes out on his chest before falling asleep. Jaehyun doesn’t know what he should be thinking. He’s glad that you're here but with how upset you were last night it worries him. 

You start to stir and tilt your face up towards him. Your eyes are red still from crying and your face is puffy but Jaehyun still thinks you are one of the most beautiful people he has ever seen. He gives you a squeeze to let you know it’s okay. You study him, eyes guarded and he wonders if you're about to tell him to forget everything that happened and run out of the room. 

“Hi,” your voice cracks from sleep and all the crying you did. 

“Hi,” Jaehyun whispers back. “You okay?”

“No,” you tell him and Jaehyun is surprised that you gave him an honest answer. Usually you are one to keep your emotions close to your chest.

“Want to talk about it?” Jaehyun pushes. Your body goes rigid and he thinks this is it. This is where you run.

“Not really. But I told myself that I wasn’t going to run anymore.” Your eyes lock with Jaehyun’s and he holds his breath waiting for you to go on. “I lost a patient yesterday.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Me too,” you sit up and Jaehyun follows you. He watches you as you look around his room. It hasn’t changed since you were last here. Except maybe it’s a little more messy. He hasn't really cared about keeping things clean since you left. 

“He was my favorite patient. I know we’re not supposed to have favorites or get attached but I did.” 

“Y/n I’m sorry that you lost a patient but I'm a little confused on what this has to do with us.” Jaehyun tells you. You look down at your lap then back up at him. Your eyes are brimming with tears and he wants to reach out and wipe them away but holds himself back.

“I promise there’s a point to me telling you this. Just give me a chance to explain it all to you.” Jaehyun nods for you to continue.

“As I was saying he was my favorite and I knew that he was dying. Everyone knew it, even him. The worst part was that he had a girlfriend and she was…is in love with him. My client and I are a lot alike. It’s probably why I liked him so much. He wanted to break up with her because he didn’t want her to be hurt by his death. He figured it was better to end things now while he was still alive and before she really started to fall for him.” 

You look over at Jaehyun and he knows what you are thinking. Because he’s thinking the same thing. This sounds familiar. You had pretty much told him the same thing that it was better to end things now before someone gets really hurt. The only difference is that neither of you are dying. 

“Anyway it didn’t work. Breaking up with her she wouldn’t accept it and continued to come see him and eventually they got back together. They had a month together after that.” Your eyes fill with tears again. This time Jaehyun does reach out and wipes away the few that are running down your face.

“When they got back together I asked why she was putting herself through this and do you know what she told me? She said that it doesn’t matter that he’s dying or thinks that breaking up with her will spare her feelings in the end. Because she already fell for him the moment she saw him. And do you know what he told me the night before he died?” Jaehyun shook his head, unable to speak as you cried your way through your story.

“He told me that his biggest mistake was wasting time trying to push the one he loved away instead of spending as much time with them as he could. That he wished he could have a few more hours with her and that I shouldn’t be afraid of hurting you. That I should be afraid of not having enough time with you.” 

By this point you're crying so hard Jaehyun almost doesn’t understand what you are saying. He pulls you into his lap and kisses the top of your head. You wrap your arms around him and cry into his neck trying to calm yourself down.

“I don’t want to wish I had more time with you,” you hiccup. “I’m sorry I pushed you away Jaehyun. Please say that I’m not too late.” 

“You’re not too late. I told you Y/n that I wasn’t giving up on you and I haven’t. I will always be here waiting for you.” Jaehyun tells you, you tighten your arms around him and kiss his neck. 

“I don’t deserve you.” you tell him.

“Yes I do. Just like you deserve me.” Jaehyun assures you and this time you don’t disagree with him. 

#nct 127 #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 reactions #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 agnst #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you #jaehyun reaction #jaehyun agnst #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun fanfic

[schraubd]

Giving Myself an "Atta Boy"

  Confession time: I'm not much of an exerciser. I played rec sports as a kid, and while I enjoyed it, I was never serious about it. Same in college -- I enjoyed playing intramural floor hockey, but that was really about it. Once I graduated and the sort of automatic opportunities to play sports went away, I was never someone who wanted to join a pickup basketball game or anything like that. And things like running, or going to the gym? Forget about it. Always found them to be incredibly boring. But without consciously working out, being a professor is a pretty sedentary lifestyle. As a graduate student things were a little better just because I lived about a mile's walk from campus -- just the right amount to get some steps in without it being too much of a drain. But then the pandemic hit, and nobody saw the sun for a few years. That corresponding to me hitting my mid-30s was not a great combo. I tried a few things. We bought a "RingFit" for the Switch -- didn't really catch on. I tried doing sit-ups each morning or using a "stepper" machine, but they didn't really take. One problem is that I have recurrent knee and lower-leg problems, which meant that the shock even of jogging very quickly caused terrible pain. So it was in particularly really hard to do any cardio, which is what I really thought I needed but could never fully motivate myself to do in earnest. But this summer, my wife and I bought a recumbent bike. And I really like it. More importantly, I've stuck with it. I can get genuine cardio without destroying my knees, which is something that had always been my white whale. And after years of never getting past (extremely) sporadic exercise patterns, I've been able to commit to riding the bike almost every day. I'm not smashing any records or anything like that; my goals have been modest -- at first, just trying to go 10 miles in 40 minutes (the length of one Hell's Kitchen episode). More recently, I kicked that up to 11 miles in 40 minutes, and today, for the first time ever, I did 12 miles in 40 minutes. Again, nothing objectively impressive. But it was a big achievement for me, and so I'm very happy about it. One of my initial ambitions when I started using the bike admittedly was to lose some weight -- not so much for aesthetic reasons, and more that I have a whole closet full of perfectly good pre-pandemic suits that I'd love to fit back into rather than having to buy a new wardrobe. That hasn't really happened -- my weight has stayed remarkably stable, which is less of a disappointment than a source of profound confusion: I don't feel like I'm eating any differently, so it seems to defy physics that I have the same inputs, can add working out six days a week to my daily routine as outputs, and yet not have it have any effect on my body mass. Newton, hold my beer. But I've decided to stop thinking of it as "not losing weight" and start thinking of it as "a heroic holding-of-the-line against the ravages of middle-aged metabolism." But really, that's all of secondary concern. The fact is that after years of essentially not exercising at all, I have for the past several months been extremely diligent and reliable in exercising most evenings, and I feel really good about that. So I'm giving myself an "atta boy". What are you atta boying yourself for this year? via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/1D7lrca

#exercise #Personal

[gay-kurapika]

Whatever, under the read more I'm going to talk vaguely about my emotional abuse. This is more of a vent and I'm not going to tag it.

It took place over a long period of time, about two years, but I was literally a different person before I met Jayne. Nothing I ever did was good enough or even good at all for her, and I'm convinced that she thought anyone who wasn't literally exactly like her was wrong and bad. One of the things she drilled in my head, literally in these words, is that she was the best friend I was ever going to have, and that I didn't deserve her. She convinced me of this. She told me that I was awful, that my friends, family, girlfriend, and coworkers only liked me because I was lying to them and if they knew what I was really like they would never talk to me. I mentioned my dad and I didnt really get along and that he had been abusive when I was a child and she convinced me to stop talking to everyone in my family for over a year. She wanted me to break up with my girlfriend. She said my friends weren't real because we only spoke online, so I left the discord server and I've literally never rejoined it. I was cut off and only had her and she did this on fucking purpose!!!

I was constantly losing weight, partially because of my addiction, but largely because I literally couldn't afford to buy food because she was financially starving me. If I bought groceries that I would be likely to eat, she ate all my stuff before moving to her stuff. She didn't pay rent on time ever, and for several months didn't pay at all, so I was paycheck to paycheck covering the $1600 a month myself on fucking fast food wages, $14 an hour, and all the bills. I couldn't afford more food after she ate mine and she knew it. I even once went to the food bank and she ate everything I brought back from there too, and you only get one visit per month. I weighed like 90 lbs at this point.

I was not a tidy person at all and I admit that but she told me I didn't deserve my cat if I couldn't clean the litter box, and she constantly called me disgusting, to the point that I internalized that and just genuinely believed I was a disgusting irredeemable person.

And the worst fucking part is that I should have seen it coming. There were red flags everywhere. She was only moving in with me because her ex girlfriend had filed a restraining order against her because she wouldn't fucking leave her house. She told me her ex girlfriend had been abusing her and what a fucking lie that was. I believed it because I had no reason not to, but I learned afterwards her ex was a disabled woman who had been completely financially supporting Jayne for YEARS while Jayne didn't work at all and sat around the house drinking and smoking. Seriously this woman had a fucking chronic pain condition and she was the breadwinner while Jayne did nothing, no fucking wonder she got sick of her. And the restraining order that Nicole got against Jayne was because Jayne had physically assaulted her! She had a criminal record for assault and disorderly conduct and she didn't fucking tell me! I should have done a fucking background check.

She committed fraud in my name and didn't tell me about it. Literally forged letters and my signature to get "rent" money during covid from the government, except she literally didn't pay rent with that money, she kept it, and I just had to pay taxes on it. Are you fucking kidding me?!?!

And she was constantly belittling me for my view on like humanity and life and she wanted me to change it so bad but fuck her, because I will never become the selfish disgusting bitter old hag that she was. I truly believe that most people are good and want to make the world a better place, that the core nature of humanity is to form communities and help each other. She thought humanity was inherently evil and that only animals are innocent. We had multiple arguments about how she thought every animal deserved life and all humans should die and that made me so fucking mad, how fucking disgusting and selfish and privileged do you have to be to say that? You a fucking white American think all humans should die and that would make the planet better? Oh except you right? Fuck you, sitting here in your comfortable life and saying everyone else should suffer but dogs should live or whatever. God I hated her so much for that I wish I had said it to her face that she was a disgusting selfish person.

And one other thing I wish I'd told her was how much I truly fucking hated her dog. I pretended to like him because she was obsessed with him but that dog was NOT FUCKING TRAINED IN ANY GODDAMN WAY!!! It was so codependent that if she left the house without it it would whine loudly THE ENTIRE TIME! Even if she was gone for 10 hours it would not stop for longer than a few minutes I swear! It barked at everyone who came to the door. It wasn't house trained and when I stopped coming home on my 30 minute lunches to walk it she let it pee on the fucking carpet instead of paying a dog walker $5 a day to just take it out. God that animal was unable to function how it should, it really needed a far better owner than her.

She suicide baited me and she would argue that that's not what it was but it absolutely was. You cannot repeatedly say to someone "I'm going to come home one day and you're going to be dead," and not call that fucking suicide baiting.

And i hate that she took advantage of my kindness and faith in humanity to do all this. She told me she was bpd and I know how stigmatized that disorder is so I wanted to just believe her that her ex was lying and she wasn't an abuser, but she fucking was. It had nothing to do with being bpd, she was just a terrible selfish person, and she used that as a shield to claim she was misunderstood. This bitch knew exactly what she was doing.

Also, I take responsibility for my own relapse into addiction because ultimately I do not have to drink and I'm the one in control over that, but she absolutely manipulated me into getting worse. Every time I tried to quit again she would buy me liquor as a "treat" very clearly hoping I would forget she owed me fucking rent. I was a lot easier to manipulate if I wasn't sober. And I greatly resent her demonizing me for my addiction so often when she literally drank every single day after she took her fucking meds and then DROVE TO WORK! She was worse than me! The night she called the cops on me for literally pushing her away from me after she had screamed at me for 4 hours straight and suicide baited me and thrown dishes and yelled at me as I cleaned up the glass from the floor, she had in fact already drank an entire bottle of tequila and had opened a new one. That is not an exaggeration. The only reason I got arrested is because i didn't tell the cops the entire story, I didn't tell them everything before I pushed her, and I should have. I should have watched them drag her out of the room drunk off her ass in handcuffs.

[lucysweatslove]

Where I’ve Been, Pt 3:

Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for the last month. I’ve been overwhelmed with everything and reorganized priorities.

Still working on the whole med school thing. I have several more secondaries too complete but I needed a break because the essays were intense. I had like 10 to do for University of Minnesota and many that involved discussing racism. I know I’m not the most affected in any means but I get so mad about it that it does emotionally impact me when I have to write essays, so I needed some time to calm down from that too.

Also the board certifying my residency wants me to obtain records of my tuition from 2009-2011, like 9 years before I even claimed MT residency. I have no freakin clue why or how I even get the records. I emailed the school but who knows what will happens with that.

I was supposed to see In This Moment on 09/30 but it was rained out so I saw them last Sunday instead and it was incredible BUT I ended up disconnected from my best friend and that sucked.

My husband and best friend told me individually that they think I am autistic. Idk how I feel about this because it’s NOT a real diagnosis but they don’t really like each other so when they both come to a conclusion individually there’s usually some truth to it. I don’t want to push the matter with my doctor because workup is $$ and intense and it probably won’t actually help me anyway. As in, it’s not like it would change anything in my treatment plan. It doesn’t change how my friends and husband treat me, either. It would explain some parts of my world, but I don’t want to self-diagnose or label myself without a diagnosis because I don’t want to ever take away from autistic voices. So I just don’t know what to do with my two closest loved ones thinking this about me.

Median home prices around here are bordering $1mil.

I saw my PCP this week and even though I’m a couple pounds heavier than our last meeting, she told me I was “doing really well.” Last year my cholesterol was low (high enough HDL) but my triglycerides were kinda high. I thought this was from a steady diet of HiChews a few weeks before I got my labs drawn. This year my triglycerides were down and my cholesterol was up a bit but still normal. She was thrilled and actually told me that my cholesterol was low enough last year that it was giving dietary restriction vs this year it seems more consistent with like, actually eating enough. I’ve never told her my FULL ED history but I marked it in my history report so she knows but has never made it into a Big Deal which I appreciate.

I got both my flu shot and COVID booster on Tuesday and it killed me. Not really but I felt awful for a couple days.

I might get discharged from PT soon!! Deadlifts have historically triggered the spasms the most so we have been trying to get back into it. We don’t have real barbells in the PT office, but on Monday, I did 96# on this machine that isn’t perfect but we simulated wide leg deadlifts and it wasn’t too heavy. I’m going to try real deads in the gym hopefully today and if all goes well without any pain/spasm, I get to go back to the gym and lift heavier weights again although I’m weak AF now.

I got super into skincare again and re-organize what I call my skin care-ousel (carousel but it’s skin care) with cute 10ml droppers and airless pumps and stuff. It looks really cute.

I posted selfies but I dyed my hair and I love it. I feel so much more like when my hair is black.

#personal

[princesspastarave]

“i’m sorry i think of you everywhere i go”

I’m sorry, 🐌. You never wanted to be photographed and I did it anyways. You hated my constant recording and I did it anyways. You never wanted to me to think about you after and here I am doing it fucking anyways. They tell me it’s alright because it’s an act of my love, but my love just makes me feel guilty.

We’d met in the spring and you first left in the summer. I knew your girlfriend broke up with you and he told me you went to the hospital. I got so worried about you I had started to cry and he told me to ‘cut that out because [you] were gonna be fine,’ but more so because he hated seeing me cry like that and knew you would too. Especially if you found out you were the reason. I told you about the incident years later and you got so mad at me, went on and on about how upsetting it was that I ever thought of you like that kind of person and you had ever caused me that pain. Said it ‘made me look like your mom.’ I joked that was I was your new mom and you were one of our many adopted children, and it was there you laughed and held me and promised you were okay. You were going to be there for me and pull through for me, even when it sounded like you couldn’t. You were so strong and capable and you loved me so much that everything was going to be okay, so I didn’t need to worry.

You reiterated that time and time again. I made you feel loved and made you proud all the time. You loved when I sang for you and watched you play your games together. When I wrote things and shared them with you. For my lunches and dinners and silly party themes you always dressed up with me for. You loved me in Port Credit and York Mills and in every room we’d walk through. To be with you was to be loved by the first boy I could genuinely call my friend. You loved me.

You loved me so much it was the first thing your aunt said to my face. You loved me so much it killed you to think about hurting me. You loved me so much my pain made you ache. You loved me to the point that you “couldn’t picture a life worth living without me.” But that last part doesn’t make me feel loved at all. I’m sorry, 🐌. I don’t feel your love in the weight of comforting your mother about lowering her only child into the fucking ground. I just feel guilty and responsible and guilty again.

Because I knew this was an ongoing thing. I knew that things with the next girl went south and it happened again. And you had a bad physics exam and it happened again. You didn’t get into the university you wanted or you had a bad semester and it happened again and again and again. You thought I didn’t know. You and everyone else think I don’t know things because you don’t tell me them but you and everyone else are forgetting my stupid prophetic ass dreams. The way I can get people to talk. You’re forgetting the way I can make anyone tell me anything, ok? So yeah, I knew. I knew a lot and it still wasn’t enough and I’m sorry, 🐌. But I’m more sorry to her because If I knew you were actively suicidal I would’ve never set you up in the first place. I’m sorry. Don’t tell me not to blame myself there’s this liminal space between us now and I know I’m responsible for that and I just have to accept that.

That wasn’t fair. The last time I ever saw you was the housewarming in my apartment. I thought I knew it all because I thought a few pieces built for me in there meant that was the place I’d grow old in. I should’ve known to get his name on the lease but more importantly I should’ve known to take more pictures of you. To feed you more rolls and hug you a longer goodbye. I should’ve known not to listen or to ever fucking believe you. I should’ve known to do things my way. You did it days after the birthday party I threw for them and now looking back at that time just makes me feel guilty. Like I’m wrong and subsequently disregarding the faces of new love in my life. Looking at any of our photos together fills my heart in the most emptying way and I feel like I can’t talk about you with anyone. The only 3 people you let know you and not just know of you are hauntingly stuck together in every realm but the physical one.

I will join you in the ground before I ever speak to him again, and I am as gone as you are if I’m to bring up the death of her first love as she grieves the ambiguous loss of her second. Are you fucking kidding me? In a crowd or in solitude through new faces and old I still cannot grieve and I’m still fucking guilty.

Of course I have other people in my life to talk to about this. Other people who’ve gone through a similar loss as well, but I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk about loss or mental health or suicidal prevention, I want to talk about you and I can’t do that anymore. Because other people can’t sympathize in the way I need them to. They can read my letters and scroll through the playlists, sure, but they will only know the stories they hear and will never really know you. They see you in pictures and the way you linger in the back of my mind but they weren’t fucking there for you. Hell, I wasn’t even there for you! YOU DIDN’T LET ME. YOU TOLD ME TO LEAVE YOU ALONE AND I LISTENED LIKE AN IDIOT I’M SORRY 🐌 I’M SORRY AND RESPONSIBLE AND GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY.

I haven’t visited your grave since I went for your Shiva which makes me feel guiltier. I keep making excuses, that I’m working and my schedule is weird and North York is really far away, but the fact of the matter is, people make a further commute to and from work every day and there are planes and trains and cars. There are people in my life I see from there and Oshawa and LA. For fuck’s sake, I went to the site with some rando Mazda man, visited his mom in the exact same place, and purposely avoided looking for your stone. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re in there, I know that, but I can’t bring myself to see you like that, which means as much as I love you I don’t ever want to see you again. I’m sorry, love.

I don’t know where this guilt comes from but it’s not haha Catholicism. It’s not something you can chalk up to my mother either, which you often would do. I know where the disappointment comes from though, which makes me feel even guiltier. It’s because you disappointed me. You lied and promised me you’d be okay. You swore you’d pull through for me and I believed you and your little ‘social media break!’ text like a stupid little fool. I waited around for you just like I waited for his “I’ll tell my parents next semester” bullshit and you both made me look like a fucking idiot for it. You humiliated me and I wanna hate you so bad and if I was taught how to be a hater I so would. I would have had a very different 2023 and 2022 and life in general but this isn’t about me and my inability to hate this is about you. This is your letter on your day about your grief and your goodbye because despite what I read in that godforsaken headline, you are very much not a ghost and very much not dead you are very much alive and in my head and as haunting as that is and how I know you hate the pain, I won’t say “get out,” because I don’t want you to ever leave.

The only thing worse than you leaving the first time is gonna be you leaving the second and I am already crippled with the guilt of knowing and loving and remembering you but mostly I am guilt ridden for changing because you can’t anymore. I never wait for people to get better. I never sit still for change. I am not the same person I was when you said goodbye and though you’ve told me in countless dreams and new faces and places you bring me to that you still love me and are rooting for me to embrace the growth in the unknown I can’t help but feel like I should be over this by now and am therefore letting you and everyone else down.

I get over people in minutes by acting like they’re dead to me despite them being very much the opposite and it’s finally catching up to me now that it’s vice versa. It’s been years. 2 Years since you left and the sweet boy I thought ‘hated seeing me cry’ was encapsulated by a poisonous fog. 2 years of “you’re just such a pretty crier, I can’t help it.” 2 years of “I just can’t help it, it’s so hot when you’re mad.” 2 years of “Do you really wanna be like your mom? No? Do as I say and keep your fucking mouth shut.” 2 years since “He’s in the ground, can’t you just hold me? I’ll hold you after, stop telling people what I’m doing.” 2 years of never being held after and never even just being held. 2 years of this sick, sick, sickness.

I want to believe that that was just a trauma response to losing his friend, but the way him and people in general love me most when I have nowhere to go only solidifies their true intentions with me and our relationships. In hindsight, he fucking hated me. And he definitely still does.

He hates my career and my hyper-femininity. He hates my writing and ability to connect with people. Probably because he could only connect with you. He hates my indie pop mixes and my queerness and my friends. He hates the apartment I furnished all pink with the little money he hates I earned. He hates my unconditional love and my overdeveloped need to protect. But most of all, he hates that I never shut up. He hates when I speak on my experiences, especially the ones he caused. They all do.

Recap last year and the faces are different but the end is all the same. I’ve rebuilt to go anywhere and be able to look for and find love in every single space and that freedom is envied by the likes of every socially inept man that thinks an exotic wife and kids is going to make his pathetic days a little bit more interesting. Hated by every insecure woman as a mirror for what they could’ve become had they rewired themselves sooner. I am desirable, but as warm and adoring as I am I don’t think there’s a way I can ever acquire genuine romantic love. I can cast all the spells I want and make my little jars and do my affirmations but the love might not ever be experienced. Not in the way where I can say “no,” and still be treated kindly and in a safe space, at least.

You never pulled through for me and neither did he. You both let me down so hard yet I’m the one feeling guilty. He never got a job. He never told his parents what he did. He never cleaned the place or took care of lil bug. He never took me out to the roller rink downstairs. He never took me out anywhere where wasn’t where his friends were for that matter. He would just take my body and leave.

Blame me for stealing his parents’ money and leave. Start fights so he could get hard watching me cry and leave. Literally throw me on the floor after he’d blow his fucking load and leave. I watched him run out the fucking door as my lifeless frame cradled myself to sleep in fucking tears for a year. I was nothing but a body and a crazy girl back home story to him. A pay per view pocket pussy, if you will. He’d be telling his friends all about how “he loved me and adored me and saved me from my violent mom” which was fucking sick because it was true. The last part at least. But I was not loved. I was not safe or cared for or even fucking wanted. What’s loved was the idea of a pink hair BPD bitch to be his subservient little slave forever and ever and then some more and it’s the only thing that’s wanted of me to be honest. The only way I’ve ever known how to be loved by a man.

But it’s been 2 years now. and while I’m not blaming you for the aftermath of someone else’s actions, I want you to know that something in him died that day you did too and I don’t think it’s ever coming back. I don’t think he’ll ever recover from you, but fuck if I’m not trying to recover from him every fucking day! I am trying so hard and as much as I love you I don’t think I will ever forgive you for inadvertently causing the beginning of the endless flinching and crying and guilt coursing through my veins.

At the end of the day, I don’t hate you at all. Even if I do, I’ll never hate you half as much as I hate myself for going against your wishes to not be remembered and essentially cared for. I’m so sorry, 🐌. I’m sorry I care you all the time. I’m sorry I hear your voice in “Darling.” I’m sorry I see you in bars and cars and at the edge of my bed and in the back of my head. I’m sorry I feel you in every airplane that passes by and in every tuxedo cat I deem homophobic the way you would. I’m sorry I can’t wait for anyone anymore and me and my plans change every day. I’m sorry I hear your laugh every time I’m giggling too and kicking my feet writing glitter gel pen love letters. I’m sorry I see your face in every Vyvanse-taking, bisexual, Wasian, Jewish boy that teases me for collecting rocks and reading stars in the sky. I’m sorry I think about you everywhere I go just so there’s a little bit more of you in the world. I usually know how to make everything okay but I don’t know what else there is left to do or say or even left to feel besides I’m sorry, love and guilty, guilty, guilty.

#cw death #cw sui mention #loss #dealing with grief #🐌 #vent post #cw sex talk #cw sa mention #🫚 #🥅

[fatopiaplus]

Tabitha Louise Murphy

Tabby cat, Tabby cat, watch her grow so round and fat

See her eat so much more until her belly meets the floor

Watch her rump grow rounder yet, how much fatter can she get?

"When my own goal weight I top, only then shall Tabby stop."

Heyo! How ya doing? My name is Tabitha Louise Murphy. Now, this is a page for fat women, right? Okay. I've seen a lot of nice gals here get fatter over the course of their lives, but for me it's different. I've always been fat. Yep. That's right. I've always been fat. I started getting fat when I was about five and kept going. I'd wear different costumes and go to different neighborhoods on Halloween. I couldn't wait to eat. Mom and Dad, both ample themselves, didn't pay it too much mind. My goal was to get myself up to 600 pounds by graduation. Here I am at age 10. I'm about 120 pounds, nearly twice what I should have weighed. 🙂

By age 12, I've put on about 4 inches and about 80 more pounds. Funny thing is that nobody teased me. I guess I'm just so casual about it that nobody seems to mind, and I joke about it myself, so that makes me less distant. I really did look forward to growing rounder. I mean, I'd eat from the moment I got up to the minute I brushed my teeth before bed. I didn't just eat bad things either. I knew I was gonna get real fat so I wanted to be healthy too, so I'd sit down and eat ten apples smothered in peanut butter. Caramel apples were good too. I just concentrated on good, but high-calorie items and supplimented my healthy diet with candy, candy and more candy.

Now, between age 12 and 15, I've really gone to town and I'm up to three hundred and thirty-seven pounds. I wear things that are nice and tight, showing off every bulge and roll. I don't go bare midriff, but I do like people to see how proud I am of my increasing size. Guys are starting to take notice of me and don't tease me. Rather, they ask if they can buy me food and feed me. Hey, I've got no problem with that! The guys get a kick out of it, and I get fatter. It's a win-win situation. These guys are so good in fact, that by the time I'm finishing my junior year ....

... I'm up to 480 pounds. Now I've got to gain 120 pounds by graduation. I hope I can do it. The guys are dolls. They all pay me to feed me. It's funny, really. Each guy has one week. They try to get me to gain so much in that time. Whoever gets me to gain the most in one week is my "king." Tony Arregio is the top winner so far. He helped me gain 15 pounds in a week. I'd like to see him top that record. C'mon guys! I've got to gain 120 pounds in only 7 months!! Hurry!

Hey hey! I've graduated at 610 pounds. Those guys really did it, and my boyfriend Andrew is the one who really helped me out here. He's a master of cajoling me into stuffing myself to the gills, if I had gills, that is. 😉 I'm quite happy being this size. I know I waddle a little and there's things I simply can't do, but fatness to me is more important than roller coasters, bumper cars and string bikinis. I have grown into the woman I've always wanted to be. I'm not actively gaining now. I'm happy, content, pleased with my body. Now, if something happens and I gain or lose weight, I'm not going to worry about it. I'm going to college to study Fashion Marketing. I'm planning on opening a shop that offers fashions that look good on a 120 lb woman or a 1200 lb woman. Oh, and guys and kids too. See ya there!

Sorry that it's been a while since my last photograph, but a lot has happened in the past three years. The main thing is that I've managed to pack on over three hundred pounds and I'm so fat now I can barely waddle, 933 pounds. I'm addicted to food and my body went into withdrawl when I tried to give up eating so much cold turkey. It went into starvation mode and now I'm fatter than ever. I'm eating enough now to maintain, but I have a feeling that I'm going to get fatter yet. I don't mind but for the fact that it's a pain trying to get socks that fit. =) ))

[ultravariety]

verbalizing my pain doesn't do anything. i don't really benefit. i feel more unheard than when i started, or i just feel like a chit for "i can talk about my problems now!". and i don't want to be self centred trying to continue talking about me.

i can't expect someone to comfort me, or to do anything for me. and reaching out feels like a lost cause. when people say you should talk about your problems, is it supposed to make you feel better? are you supposed to feel better when you confide in others? why do i only feel this way with my therapist? most times, it's just like a weight is lifted when i talk to her. but when i talk to most people, it feels like the weight gets heavier. is that normal?

does it even matter? human connection, founded on vulnerability, requires some level of give and take. but what if you are giving something no one wants to take? is it your fault or theirs? do you continue to persist, hoping some day someone will? or do you stop trying to give, hoping no one ever reminds that you ever did?

if i tell people how i feel, why should they care? why do i feel entitled to someone's kindness, they are a stranger after all? is it performative to ask someone to care? when should i call it begging or desperation?

you know, it's not the idea that "no one cares" or "no one ever will". it's the idea that after forming these bonds, these relationships, i come to learn that these people ive let into my life, don't really care. it's like a windy day, not a tornado, it will pass. i've talked about this feeling for so long, i'm totally a broken record. why would anyone continue to try? why do i want them to? that persistence and dedication, i wish to see it, i'm cruel to ask for that. to expect someone to do that for me — it's sad.

it's not to say i'm undeserving to be cared for. but it's my fault for the position i'm in. i enable people to treat me poorly, i don't stand up for myself, and i don't set boundaries. i hope that people will just be nice, and i can figure out, but i'm expecting a lot more than what's realistic. i can't expect people to help me figure this out, to set clearer boundaries. and i don't know how to be firm with people. i've let them walk all over me, because i thought it was ok. i let people i love walk all over me because i don't know what else i'm supposed to do. but even if the ones who i assumed would be kind to me aren't, why should i ever expect any random person to be?

i've always hated the idea of being a people pleaser, but i am one. i just don't want to be hated or yelled at. i still get pretty hated on and yelled at though lol. i should live in spite of those feelings. i guess.. i don't recall moments in my life where it felt safe to be me. not at home, not with friends. for so long i was told, or reminded and pointed out why i wasn't really good or wanted. physical traits and personality traits. it happened so frequently, i thought it was normal that i wasn't well received or that i was criticized constantly

in hindsight they were being mean, and i didn't deserve to be told those things all the time. i hate that i have to get over all of this. and i'm not even a victim. i was a shithead and so mean to people who tried to be nice. because i never understood. it's not an excuse, i really didn't realize. and i feel awful. i don't appreciate people who are there enough, and i expect way too much from people who never want to deliver. i get mad when the people i didn't appreciate at the time, move on and realize they deserve to be appreciated. because even if i know i can do it now, but it's meaningless, i missed the chance

i'm here, because of me. i don't know how to move forward. i want better and i want more, but i feel awful asking for it. i want to connect and talk to people, but god so many people are no fun to talk to. i wish i could chat with strangers and find out about their lives, yet i suck at conversations.

it sucks that it feels like all along, they were right. i do need to change myself to be acceptable around others. the way that i am, this "work in progress" isn't ok. i need to change and be different, so that i can form these connections. i don't really know who i am, but i always thought i was pretty "myself" when i was alone. so who am i really changing to become? what if i end up changing into a new version that is just another facade? how do i know what's authentic? i thought i was myself

#long rambling #read if you want

[nephilumking]

The pain and hurt in life are what make the struggle real and worthwhile. Happiness is fleeting no matter what we do. Relish the misery, it's far better than allowing yourself to be hollow.

Trading life for comfort and safety is such a depressing act. Why would I not choose to live my best life everyday. To try and be kind to every person I meet.

Something as simple as delivering food can bring a smile to someone's face. I delivered to an assisted living facility and the old lady was so kind and warm it reminded me of those who are dead and gone.

I held the elevator for another elderly lady despite the fact it takes more time to leave and not being paid by the hour.

I feel as if today I experienced so much kindness and small laughs from folks I would never recognize if we met again. There is beauty in the pointless moments.

I cannot help my chronic depression but I can struggle against it. With meaningless chatter that allows others a brief reprieve from the chronic loneliness of our digital age.

If I feel alone when I'm with you. Then we're not together. A stranger shouldn't illicit more happiness than those we allow to be closest to us.

I made a friend smile when I told her how I loved her curly hair. Despite her being sick at work. I congratulated my friend on her sobriety.

It's all the pointless meaningless things that seem to matter most. So are they really so pointless? I always hold the door for folks if they're behind me.

I even had a nice conversation with a man who stood a head taller than me in an elevator today. I am happy in fleeting moments. I am an introverted because of trauma and extroverted by nature.

I only hope you can find small comforts in everyday meaningless things as I do. They're what keep me going.

Bearing the weight of a crippling system of debt and threatening poverty only so my little one need not know hunger as I did. To never know what it's like to be without a place. To never feel like life is meaningless.

I'll never show them my sorrow, how could I? When they are unborn and yet for them I live. 7 days a week 14 hour days.

They may not know me as much as I would like. Does that make me awful? I might have to watch every extracurricular activity and every first through recordings and pictures. Though I will bear witness.

I'll call them everyday and talk as much as I can despite my distance. Thinking of being away from them hurts me deeply.

They will have a home if it means I must work myself to the bone and til exhaustion. They will have everything I can give. I just don't want to be away from them for so long. When they are my sole purpose.

I dream nightmares of me coming home from work only for them to fear me as my great grandfather experienced with my grandmother when he came home from the war. I too hope that like them we'll be the best of friends.

I hope they don't hate me for my absence. It'd only be fair I felt that with my dad. Always gone and never there but I'll at least talk to them through the phone.

I just want to be a good dad and more than my father ever was. I'm so afraid of becoming him. Not being there on my fifth birthday or even for my birth. Both due to being in jail for drug related crimes.

I don't know if he ever cared for me. I don't see how he could ever want to be away from me just to get high.

I don't wanna be away from my boy just to provide let alone for some ridiculous notion of chemical joy. Did he ever even love me? Most events in my childhood were just excuses to peddle drugs to feed his own ridiculous cocaine habit.

I hope I pass away with them by my side not in a hospital bed with a bullet to the head. On ventilators and diaphragms an empty shell unable to breathe on your own braindead.

I have hope for the future. More so everyday. I'd do anything to hold that tiny hand that presses against his mother's belly.

I think I understand why atrocities are committed in the name of children more often than not. Wicked folks use parental instincts to pray on the fear of other parents.

Fuck the supreme court though her body her choice.

I even look forward to their rebellion and the hurtful things they will say that they won't mean. I've been blessed with a little accident. Though so was I.

I'll be crying needlessly about my future if you need me. In some combination of sorrowful and joyful tears.

[finelinevogue]

hiii idk if ur comfortable doing this but im recovering from one and it would mean the world but could you do one where the reader has/had an eating disorder and when eating harry just kinda comforts her because he knows its harder to eat etc (i hope u get what i mean :( )

hi! hope you’re having a lovely day! first of all i am really proud of you and you in turn should be really proud of yourself! this one is especially for you, for me and for anyone who is going through or recovering from an ED. please read whenever you feel comfortable in doing so and that’s okay if today is not that day <333 love you

It was a bad day.

Not very often do you have them anymore, but when you do have them you feel as though you will never be good enough and that things will never get better.

When you were younger you developed an eating disorder, but never used to see it as being a problem. It started off as not snacking as often as you used to, specifically cutting out sugar and fat from your diet completely. Over time it grew to not having lunch, breakfast or dinner and then all three altogether. Your stomach shrunk and you kept your stomach tide over with water - at least that had no calories. The pains in your stomach became normal, but the pain against your heart was so much worse.

Because people began to notice.

It would be a small comment like “you look like you’ve lost weight” or “you’re all but skin and bone”, but it would make you realise, just for a minute, that maybe what you were doing to yourself was more significant than you first thought. But you continued, because you had to be enough. You wanted that flat stomach. You wanted that thigh gap. You wanted to be the skinny girl that could be picked up. You wanted to fit in clothes less than a size 10. You wanted to be able to be confident in showing more skin. You just wanted to feel beautiful - be pretty.

It wasn’t until Harry came into your life that things started to change. He didn’t make any comments about your weight, ever, but only encouraged you to do what felt right to you. When you asked him to help you find a therapist, because you finally had someone to support you through it all, he was ready with his laptop and notebook. When you asked him to make a slightly bigger portion for you today, he would make his the same size so you didn’t feel like you were being greedy. He was your equal. When you asked him whether he loved you he never responded with words, but actions. Kisses. Sex. Chocolate. Flowers. Soapy baths. Nail painting. Hand holding. Cuddling. It was a surprise each time as to what he would do, but it showed you how much he really did love you.

Since being with Harry he had guided you through putting on weight, with the aid of your therapist and your fitness coach too. You had come so far, even with still a long way to go, and for that Harry was forever proud of you.

Harry is proud of you.

Some days it was hard to believe that though. Some days you slipped. Some days that dark cloud reminded you of all the negative things you once believed about yourself. Some days were like today.

“Y/N i’m home!” Harry called through your shared apartment.

You were still in bed. He’d left you this morning to go record some stuff in the studio, silently kissing your forehead goodbye as you slept still. Today was a day where you reminded yourself of all the bad thoughts you used to think about secondly. Today you couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed and go eat, but scroll through models instagrams and pick out all the things you wished you had instead of them. Kendall Jenners figure. Kaia Gerber’s youth. Gigi Hadid’s eyes. The list was endless.

The only time you’d gotten yourself of bed had been to go to the toilet. You had thought about intentionally making yourself sick, a deadly habit that you’d worked hard to overcome, but with much strain, tears and a shout at yourself in the mirror you managed to walk away.

“Baby?” Harry called out again, but your throat was so dry that he hadn’t heard you call out that you were in the bedroom.

When he walked through the bedroom he instantly knew it had been a bad day. You were tucked up underneath all the covers, with tear marks staining your face and the hood, of his Green Bay Packers hoodie, pulled up over your head. You chewed on the strings of his hoodie, a sign that you were physically hungry but your brain wasn’t allowing you to process that you were.

“Harry?” Your voiced rasped out, turning to see his beautiful, glowing, face.

“It’s alright lovie, let it out. I’m right here, you’re okay.” He cooed, immediately climbing into bed next to you so that he was facing you. He took the strings out of your mouth and traced his finger over your bottom lip, leaning in for a quick kiss. It was his way of letting you know he was here with you.

“I-i’m sorry.” You whimpered, your bottom lip trembling.

“Wait one minute lovie,” Harry shot up out of bed, leaving you confused as to what he was doing, but when he came back with a tall glass of water your eyes watered over with admiration for him, “just sit up and take a sip of this for me baby.”

You nodded wearily and took a few gulps of the water, finding pleasure in the way it quenched the thirst in the back of your throat.

“Thank you.” You smiled, handing him back the glass half-full.

“And thank you.” He replied, kissing your forehead softly. “Was it a tough day?”

Harry leaned back against the headboard and brought you to lay on top of him, your head against his chest. It was comforting to hear his heart beat the same rhythm as yours. He pulled the hood down so he could tangle his fingers through your hair - a comforting method he’d come to know you loved.

“Just felt really bad this morning and then I wanted to so badly go make myself sick,” you felt Harry tense up a little at your words, “but I didn’t and now I feel really angry and frustrated about it. I just… oh I don’t know H.” Your words deflated.

“Baby listen to me, you made it through the day! That may not seem like an achievement but is fucking is! You did so great and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Really truly.”

You moved your head to look up at him, a glimmer of hope in his eyes that he was breaking through to you.

“Just didn’t feel good enough today to eat.” You swallowed the lump back in your throat.

“That’s okay if you didn’t eat, but I won’t let you a second more of today thinking you aren’t good enough because you are worth so much more than that. You are worth the stars and more. I love you more and more every day and i’m proud to have you mine.” His words were the most comforting you’d heard yet.

“Stars?” You questioned for some silly reason.

“And moons and planets and galaxies. I wish you could see that, baby.” He kissed you on your forehead again, letting his lips linger a little longer this time. “You don’t have to feel bad or apologise for today, because I know you’ll love yourself tomorrow.”

“How?”

“Because you’re stronger than you know. Today isn’t defeat, it’s just a pause for what tomorrow is going to be.” He hugged you tighter, squishing you to make you feel his love.

“And what is tomorrow going to be?”

“Better.”

And that was exactly it. Tomorrow didn’t have to be perfect, and today didn’t have to either, just as long as it was better. Not best; better. It was all about small steps and learning that it’s not all about leaps of faith. It was about learning to love yourself, by yourself. It was about being okay with the bad days, because you know you’ll have fucking amazing days to make up for it. It’s just about making those days that bit more amazing - that bit better.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #finelinevogue #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #harry styles ED #harry styles tw #harry styles eating disorder #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #anon response #anon #request blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles comfort #comfort blurbs

[awheckery]

so. uh.

cut for frank discussion of chronic illness and the serious failures of the american healthcare system. tw for fatphobia and gaslighting.

Last July, I got sick. It wasn’t too bad at first: some fatigue, body aches and a slightly elevated temp, until suddenly it was bad and I wound up in the ER. It took three rounds of steroids, a round of antibiotics and a more powerful inhaler to get my feet back under me, but I never fully recovered.

I didn’t talk about it here, except for answering an ask in October and blaming my lack of creative output on depression. It really, really wasn’t depression; it was my health progressively collapsing, one system after another until the avalanche of symptoms that flattened me just after New Year’s.

For the last four months, I’ve spiked a fever over 100°F nearly every single day. My joints hurt. My knuckles are knobbly and swollen, and occasionally my fingers are so painful and weak I’ve had to literally tape my pen to my hand at work. I get rashes at random that itch so badly I claw myself bloody. I overheat and have hot flashes in temperate rooms. The skin on my face and neck and shoulders turns red and hot to the touch, like I’m burning for hours with no immediately discernible provocation.

Some days, I wake up and I don’t have the strength to get out of bed. Some days I can’t wake up at all. I’ve slept through deafening alarms for hours, long enough for my phone battery to run out and die. I can only stand up for ten minutes a day without being hobbled by the effort, and every extra minute beyond that I pay for in hours spent bedbound by exhaustion and pain.

I keep losing words. I’ll arrive at the middle of a sentence and stumble to a halt, because the word I need isn’t there. It’s not true aphasia, and it’s not all the time. I comprehend written and verbal communication perfectly well, but I can’t get my own thoughts out without tripping over them.

I am, to quote a friend attending school to be a nurse practitioner, “a textbook case for SLE,” and I agree, but somehow I can’t pay a doctor to treat me seriously.

In January, I was referred to a rheumatologist after the bloodwork my PCP ordered indicated I had autoimmune activity of some kind.

To date, that’s my only test for anything that’s come out definitively positive for any kind of disease state at all. Ever. I tested negative for celiac disease on a technicality nine years ago, despite how specifically and intensely sick gluten makes me, so I was dismayed but not too surprised when follow-up bloodwork for lupus came back just barely inside the range of “normal.” Despite that, I wasn’t prepared to be jerked around as much as I have been.

The first rheumatologist I saw, back at the end of January, had barely been in the exam room for thirty seconds when I could see he’d already made up his mind about me. He was dismissive and perfunctory and condescending when he told me that “plenty of perfectly healthy people have positive ANA results,” and he referred me back to my PCP for an exercise program and antidepressants to treat my “fibromyalgia.”

Putting aside that I’m not a “perfectly healthy person,” I’m a Fat Lady living in America, and I’ve experienced medical fatphobia for decades at this point. You learn the key words and phrases pretty quickly, and “exercise program” has never not been a euphemism for “weight loss.” (Which is heavily ironic in this particular situation, because before I was Fat, I walked 2-3 miles a day for funsies and spent 15-20 hours in the gym every week. I only stopped because I somehow shredded both my ACLs in one summer. I’d love to get back to that if a rheumatologist could help me figure out how to be active and uninjured at the same time.)

I was frustrated after that first appointment, enough to request a referral to one of the best teaching hospitals in the country. Why not go to the best, right? There was a five month wait for an appointment, but I am stubborn, and I made use of the time by documenting every bullshit symptom my body threw at me. I have a daily symptom journal, full of subjective entries like my pain and fatigue levels, as well as objective entries like daily temperature changes and photos of my rashes and my burning face and my goddamn mouth ulcers.

I thought I had enough logged to be impossible to ignore, and then I saw the second rheumatologist three weeks ago, and the first sentence out of her mouth was the beginning of an interrogation on my blood pressure, and whether I was taking medication or if I was on a fucking exercise program for it. I tried to get the appointment back on track by sharing my symptom diary, and she turned back to my just-under-the-wire test results, and told me, “many healthy people have positive ANA results, it doesn’t mean anything without other positive test results for specific conditions.”

I said, “Healthy people don’t run a fever for months.”

And then she told me that a "fever is not associated with any of the conditions a rheumatologist treats." I was so startled by the confidence and authority with which she stated the lie that I was unable to speak to rouse a defense or contribute anything else for the rest of the appointment. After an insultingly brief examination, in which I never took my face mask off and she declined to look at any of my photos, she said that she “didn’t see anything that could be rheumatologically wrong with me.”

I asked her what she thought could be wrong with me, and she grudgingly admitted it’s possible, though rare to have an autoimmune disease and test negative for everything, so she would order more tests and refer me to appropriate specialists for my various symptoms. She ordered a referral to an infectious disease specialist for my fevers, and a referral to a dermatologist for my “rosacea” (that she’s assuming I have, because I would like to again note she did not see it, at no point did she actually look at my face or a photo of it), and a referral to an ENT for a salivary gland biopsy for my dry mouth, and a referral to a neurologist for my “stroke-like” memory and speech problems.

It was, all told, an unbearably shitty appointment. I cried in my car for an hour in the hospital parking garage so I wouldn’t do anything impulsive like lying down in traffic, and then I went home, cried some more, and went to bed for three days.

On the fourth day, I woke up enraged. It’s one thing to be blown off by a doctor when you’re just reporting symptoms without proof, it’s a wholly different thing for a doctor to ignore your proof and lie about diagnostic criteria to your face.

It’s hard enough not to think you’re crazy when your test results come back negative over and over; it’s that much harder after being told that your major concrete measurable symptom is diagnostically irrelevant, when it really, really isn’t.

(for the record, just going off the symptoms I can concretely prove I’ve experienced in the last week alone, I land a 16 on this chart, which is the most up-to-date, widely agreed-upon diagnostic criteria)

I have decided, for the moment, to play ball. I don’t have the energy to jump through all the hoops this rheumatologist wants, but I'm angry enough to drag myself through them. Tomorrow I’m supposed to see the infectious diseases specialist. On Wednesday I see the dermatologist. In two weeks I see the ENT, and I’ve got a neurology appointment tentatively scheduled for December.

I’m going to be blisteringly forthright with all of these doctors about why I’m there, and that I’m looking to exclude diagnoses other than the lupus I pretty obviously have. (Except with the ENT. Apparently they treat allergies, and I’d like to be able to go outside long enough to walk a dog, someday.)

I’m supposed to see this rheumatologist again at the end of November. Depending on how this week’s appointments go, I’m aiming to either move up my appointment with her when one becomes available, or just send a firm yet diplomatic email asking why the diagnostic criteria apply to everyone but me.

If anybody else has gotten through this fucking nightmare successfully, I’m open to suggestions, it’s not like it can get worse at this point.

#long post #sufferpunk life #chronic illness #chronic pain #sle #lupus #aka why I've gotten nothing interesting or creative done since last year #fml

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed�� humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

#catfa 10th anniversary challenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #barton reader #barton reader fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fafiction #steve rogers fanfic #my timid hello my clumsy goodbye #anika ann

[mandos-lightningbeforethunder]

Start Again - Chapter Nine (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: On their trek through the canyon to find their bounty, Din learns more about the girl than he had previously known and contemplates how she managed to survive everything she's been through. Of course, as he's learned from his time with her, they can never have peace in their search for the truth. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Discussion of sterilization, a brief discussion of forced pregnancy, discussion of childbirth, and blood loss mention. 

Author’s Note: Wow, long time no see. Life's been busy so I apologize for the severe lack of updates, I've been focusing on getting back into the workforce as well as the school semester starting up. I've also hit a major roadblock with writing and in the meantime, I've taken a step back so I'm not forcing myself or producing lackluster content. However, I'm excited to give you all this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! 

CHAPTER NINE - A STRANGER ARRIVES

Ka’rta. Mando’a for heart. The girl had a lot of heart.

Din hadn’t let it show, but the news of her diagnosis had hit him hard. The Empire had tortured her beyond belief, if her nightmares weren’t evidence enough, the scars he saw when she was sedated had told him enough. They took her son away, wiped her mind in the process, and then left her for dead. If that wasn’t enough, they forcibly sterilized her.

“They sterilized her not long after they discovered she wasn’t the one with force-sensitive capabilities.” Dr. Orn informed him. Underneath his helmet, Din frowned at the doctor’s words. A part of him grew angry, angry at the idea that since the girl was no longer of use to them, they’d toss her away. Din was disgusted.

“What you’re saying is…is that they removed her ability to have any future children because she couldn’t produce a child with abilities?” Din’s mouth tasted like bile.

“It was their belief that the child’s father was the one who passed the traits onto his son, not her.” Dr. Orn frowned at him, possibly having the same thoughts of how vile the Empire was. “Although, had they decided to—” Din held up his hand and stopped Dr. Orn’s words.

It was enough. Basic genetics explained that even if the mother didn’t carry the trait, as long as the father did, there was a chance a child with the Force would be born. Din couldn’t even comprehend the idea of the Empire forcibly impregnating her like some breeding farm.

Instead, they remained ignorant of actual genetics and because they couldn’t breed her like a kriffing animal, they removed any ability to ever have her own children. If she couldn’t produce more force-sensitives, then why let her have any more children at all.

Deep down, Din knew of the atrocities committed by the Empire but what they did to her, made him feel physically ill.

He had felt numb hearing the news. How she managed to carry herself afterward Din didn’t know. How she even managed to put up a fight in their training session he didn’t know. It made him question everything he had known about the universe. To endure that pain and continue on, Din had hardly met anyone stronger than that.

The strength she had displayed, wielding the sticks as if they were true weapons, coming at him with all her might, even if it meant she’d meet the ground again. Briefly, he had taken pleasure in sweeping her off her feet, just to see her get annoyed. He wanted to see what her reactions would be. He hadn’t expected much out of her, especially considering the news she had received earlier. After the second time, he could tell she was vibrating with anger, ready to come at him. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Followed by a few successful hits and a near kick and Din found himself almost proud of her. With time, she’d come into fighting naturally.

“I know the view is pretty, Mando, but I think we have a bounty we need to find,” Her voice makes the memories of last night fade and he chuckles.

“Patience,” He murmurs, putting the last of the supplies together in his pack. He knew she was eager to get moving, the motivation to find a possible clue in her past driving her.

An ex-Imperial, trying to lay low in a post-Empire universe. The New Republic had been searching for him but after months with no news or record of him being alive, they presumed he must’ve been killed at the end of the war. The New Republic had bigger things to worry about. Orus, still running off its own government, didn’t believe any Imperial to be dead. The droid had made it clear that no Imperial was believed to be dead unless you killed them yourself.  

Opseg law enforcement pushed out the supposed ‘dead’ bounties like clockwork, and apparently, it wasn’t too hard to find them. Din had seen the holoprojectors displaying successful hunts, it was safe to say that the Opseg agency expected the same from him and the girl. It seemed clear from the data that plenty of ex-Imperials or sympathizers found themselves on Orus, hoping that the planets bustling city life would offer a decent cover to start a new life.  

Din pulled a vibroblade out of his boot, testing the weight in his fingers before he hands it to the girl. Her eyes widen in shock but she carefully takes it into her hands. The blade was one of Din’s firsts when he had first started with the Guild. Before he had found himself more comfortable with blasters and pulse rifles, Din had been more into close combat and the use of knives. After their brief training session last night, it was clearer that while he was a long-distance fighter, the girl was suited for close combat.

“You trust me?” She asks, glancing at it as she studies the hilt and the blade itself. Din had managed to keep it in decent condition even throughout these years, maintaining it despite its lack of use.

“I do,” Din says, watching as her eyes light up. “I think you’ll be able to handle yourself out there and if not, I’ll be there to catch you.”

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, admiring the build of the vibroblade. Holding the hilt in the palm of her hand, she takes a few practice swings with it, moving with precision. The rays from the suns beam onto the blade, glittering off her face.  

“It’s also dangerous, so be careful.” Din reminds her and she nods, tucking the blade away.

“So,” she sighs, “What’s so special about this bounty other than being an ex-Imp? Seems to me that everyone was working for the Empire at some point in their life.”

“He’s an ex-Imperial officer. Higher up, not indoctrinated like Stormtroopers, so he was well aware of what the Empire was doing.” Din responds, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

“And you said he might know about what happened to me?” She asks, her voice tilting towards a hopeful tone. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but the research he had done on the bounty told him enough.

No identifying information on the ship he worked on, but with the blanks in his information, it was safe to say that whatever he did work on, the Empire didn’t want it getting out. After the war, most of it had been erased and all that was left was bits and pieces. An officer, overseeing prisoners of the war. Din had concluded that he had to at least know about what happened to the girl. She wasn’t just someone captured to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. She had some importance to them; they stole her son from her and wiped her memories. All the more reasons to find out the truth from this bounty.

“It’s a possibility. He oversaw a lot of the prisoners. There’s a chance he knew about you. Or your case, at the very least.” He replies, watching as she takes in the information.

“How soon do we have to bring him in once we find him?” She says. She’s quiet now, looking to the horizon of Opseg.

“A day or so, maybe. They incentivize you to bring the bounty in early for more credits.” He answers and she merely hums. A conflict of emotions washes over her face. There’s a question she’s too afraid to ask, unsure if she would receive the answer she was seeking.

“Will he give us information?” Right on target. Din’s not sure what to give her. Could they torture him for information? Sure, maybe the Opseg law enforcement wouldn’t question it. Would he even have any information? Again, Din did not know for sure. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands a little dirtier for the sake of information the bounty may have on the girl.

“I don’t know,” he answers instead, watching as she frowns. Not exactly the answer she was looking for then.

Displaying the map of the canyons on Orus, Din pinpoints the bounty’s last known location. He had hidden in the deepest parts of the canyon. It was likely that he had a camp set up and an array of weapons to protect himself. Din wouldn’t be surprised if he and the girl came across a couple of dead bounty hunters in various stages of decay. An Imperial was already a formidable opponent, but an Imperial officer who held a lot of information on the Empire was not a force to reckon with.

Veteran bounty hunters knew better and had expectations. If a bounty were on edge, they’d do anything to protect themselves and their assets. An amateur hunter gets too cocky and the bounty quickly puts them down and moves elsewhere, losing the trail. It was all a matter of survival.

“It’s a bit of a hike,” Din informs the girl, watching her eyes as she scans the projected image. “The droid says he’s been hiding out here for the past few weeks. He moves around after a new set of hunters come after him.”

A blinking dot displays the bounty’s last known position. The girl hums, her mouth set in a hard line as she scans the map once more, seeming to put it to memory.

“He’s getting comfortable. No new bounty hunters in a good month, maybe he thinks they’ve forgotten him,” The girl says, looking to him for confirmation.

“That, or he’s expecting a full force, so we need to be prepared for both. He’s already managed to figure out the schedule of bounty hunter arrivals. Supposedly barricades himself by the time they arrive at his camp. Takes them out and moves locations before a new round of hunters come along.” Din states, clicking through the projector to detail the number of hunters this bounty has killed off.

It’s numbers he hasn’t seen since he had taken the bounty of Fennec Shand with that hotshot bounty hunter, Toro Calican. With Shand “dead” and Calican kidnapping Grogu in the hopes of making a name for himself, Din never wanted to experience anything similar again. This bounty he and the girl had taken up would not come easily.

“He would be smarter if he moved during the downtime of hunters. That way we wouldn’t know his last whereabouts.” The girl says. The light of the holoprojector flickers off her face as Din shuts it off.

“His ignorance will play to our advantage,” Din says, placing the holoprojector in his bag, “it wouldn’t be any easier if he did decide to move during the downtime.”

Din’s not expecting much, the ex-Imperial has most likely grown comfortable living out in the canyon. Their arrival might come as a surprise, but deep down, Din knows that the bounty will be prepared for a fight. Even if it means toeing with a Mandalorian.

Beginning their trek through the canyon, Din takes the lead for the first hour into the journey. The canyons on Orus are difficult terrain. The course he had set for them was not smooth at all, it was rocky and there were several instances of Din having to pull himself up over a ledge, then pulling the girl up as well.

The faint cry of animals keeps them close to one another, not trusting that the creatures will be welcoming of their presence. Din had already learned the hard way of a welcoming presence. He should’ve expected as much, given that the planet shared a system with Nevarro. The girl, however, keeps the mood light by humming songs native to Puvo. The soft thrum of her voice keeps the hike from being filled with a painful silence, which Din is grateful for.

The hike is peaceful and with the soft hum of the girl, Din relaxes through their trek, allowing himself to admire the planet and the way the vegetation grows despite the lack of sunlight. He still scans his surroundings, keeping an eye out for any potential danger. He studies the shade of the canyon walls that cut off the sunlight even as the planets still grow, fruits hanging off the branches of trees and the leaves of planets greener than he had ever seen before.

The sounds of a running creek pause them in their journey, the girl’s humming coming to a stop as they gather at the edge of the bank. This time the girl’s singing doesn’t fill the silence, just them filling their canteens with the water. Din even watches as the girl leans over and washes the sweat from her face, running her hands down her neck in order to cool herself.  

“I think it’s deep enough to swim.” The girl says, leaning back into the sand after her last drink of the water.

“You think?” Din asks her, watching her as she nods.

“Maybe,” she says, “The creeks on Puvo were shallow, meant for work. Finding an actual source of water that wasn’t meant for work or consumption was difficult, but when I did find one, I managed to get Valara to go with me.” She smiles as she seems to look back on the memories.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been swimming,” Din tells her and she chuckles.

“Not even when you were a boy?” She turns, looking at him. In truth, he can’t remember a time when he was that young, not since before he swore the Creed. When he finds himself trying to look back, the only thing he finds himself remembering is the destruction of his home and the death of his parents.

“No,” he finally says, pulling himself out of his head.

“Castin loved to swim. He wanted to swim before he could even walk. The village thought I was crazy to give him that chance, but he proved them wrong.” She smiles, but he can see the pain in her eyes as she struggles to look back at that particular memory. He knows it’s a painful reminder of what was stolen from her.

“Do you remember them? Your village,” Din supplies. The girl blinks, slowly nodding.

“Parts of them. Faces are a blur but their voices are clear to me. We were a small but tight-knit community. Everyone helped everyone.” The girl glances up at him and smiles. “I can’t remember exact details like friends or family, just Castin and maybe the midwife who helped deliver him.”

“But you don’t remember if you ever had a husband?”

“All children were loved regardless of if their parents were married or not. But, no, I don’t remember him if he were to exist at all.”

Din feels peace when she answers that she doesn’t remember. A part of him hopes that there wasn’t any partner involved, that way she could only focus her attention on Castin. She didn’t need another heartbreak if she were to ever find out the truth of what may have happened to her village. If there had been a husband, would he have been killed off by the Empire? Was he still alive?

“I do remember the pain of bringing him into the world. It was a difficult birth.” The girl interrupts his thoughts. “The healer had monitored me throughout the entire pregnancy, I knew going in it was high-risk.”

“High-risk…” Din pauses, “Like, dying?”

“Yes,” she sounds calm when she answers. He supposes that the discussion is no longer painful since she survived the ordeal and is here now. “I was in labor for several hours. I nearly died. The midwife said there had been a lot of blood…they couldn’t stop it. I remember telling her his name, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure if he had died. It was chaos.”

Din watches her as she examines the flow of the water, tracing her fingertips above the surface. In the time they had spent together, he found himself learning more about the number of times she had faced death even before the Empire had its grasp on her. Even before her son had been born, it seemed fated that one of them would die.

“State your business.”

Dank farrik. Din was tired of being snuck upon.

He and the girl turn, facing the source of the voice. A masked man with a rifle stands in front of them. The upper half of his face remains covered, only the lower half displaying his displeasure with seeing them here. He’s also wearing armor, but it’s not like beskar. The barrel of the man’s weapon points at the girl and at this close of range, she would not survive the shot.

“The public is not barred from traveling within the canyons.” Din responds, watching as the man shifts his stance, the barrel of the rifle moving to point at his chest plate.

“The public population knows not to travel these canyons. Only outsiders take that chance, so I’ll say again, state your business.” The man snarls, the barrel of his rifle swiveling to focus on him. The blast wouldn’t pierce the beskar, but Din wasn’t about to take that chance.

It’s not a blaster rifle, the closer Din studies it. It’s a stun gun, meant to temporarily incapacitate rather than go for the kill. Why this rifleman, clearly upset, didn’t have his rifle set to kill, Din didn’t know.

“Bounty work. Sent by the Opseg law enforcement.” Din states, his hand settling on his hip just above the blaster in his hip holster.

The sky is a soft shade of blue with light cloud coverage. Din doesn’t remember looking up at the sky but as he struggles to move his limbs, he understands why. The rifleman had shot him. Someone’s screaming. It’s the girl.

“Relax, sweetheart. He’s not dead.” He can hear voices, muffled as his vision blurs.

#start again #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #Din Djarin/Reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian/you

[spacegirlinorbit]

Help Me Understand

Part 2

Obi wan x reader

Angst, fluff

Takes place during ROTS. Y/n there to be by Obi wan side as he discovers the truth behind the abrupt turn of events in the war, Anakin becoming darth vadar, and eventually how he will come to fight him.

Angst prompts :“I don’t want space. I want you. ...I need you, please stay with me.”��“You don’t have to face him alone, you’re not alone.” 

SIDENOTE: ‘//’ when its one parenthesis's they are talking through the force and when its double ‘’ like normal its being said aloud 

Help me understand part 1

“Well it looks like you took all the fun.” I say more to Obi than Yoda.

“Master y/n.” Yoda responds and I give him a bow. “Master Yoda.”

“Y/n.” Obi wan looks at me with wide eyes and rushes over to pull into a tight hug. I return his hug gratefully. Anyone could see it and anyone could feel it. We have an unformidable bond. That’s all that mattered. We are safe and we have each other.

We part and I give him a somber smile, “I heard Anakin was here.”

Obi wan sighs and looks to Master Yoda whose head goes down casted. We make our way into the temple. I can feel intensely the echoes of screams and blasters and lightsabers going off all around. A massacre.

The masters talk amongst themselves as I bend down and reach out to the force and see the events play out. It’s like a rock in the pit of my stomach. I fear I already know. As I see him come into view cloaked and feeling possessed. This is no Anakin. He has a new awakening inside giving his entity a new identity. Darth Vadar.

“Who could have done this?�� Obi questions. I look to Master Yoda and then back to Obi keeping it impassive. Doesn’t he feel it? Doesn’t he know? Is he trying to be ignorantly blind? No. Not Obi wan Kenobi. He knows deep down. He’s just not ready to face it.

Me and Obi work on reversing the code but as Master Yoda claims ‘a long time it will take’ to recalibrate the clones.

‘Cody was with you wasn't he?” I ask quietly not sure if I should bring it up.

“Yes.”

“I made contact with Ashoka. She’s managed to help Rex through the force. I fear for what might become of her if she sees Anakin.”

“Do you think...do you really think he is our enemy?”

“No.” I can’t hesitate. I do my best not to lie either. I need to have hope. You can win wars built on hope.

“How did it come to this? I don’t understand.”

“I can only think of one person. Palpatine.”

“I must know the truth.” He walks out of the room and I quickly follow.

“Master. There is something I must know.” He says and walks over to the channel recording tables.

Yoda warns him, but knowing Obi this is the only way he can bring himself to do it. The recording plays out. It confirms everything and breaks everything as well. Obi is conflicted once again and in pain that is hard to keep under control on the inside as I reach out to blanket him.

Master Yoda says the words no one wants to hear now. “Destroy the sith we must.”

Obi wan claims he can kill the emperor but not Anakin and I can’t help as my heart yearns at the sentiment. Anakin has turned to the dark side. He is sith. He is Darth vader. He is no longer Anakin and it pains me to even think about it. It pains me to see Obi-wan in turmoil about it.

“I don’t know where to look. Do you know?” He turns to me now. I sadly put my head down and shake my head no.

“I didn’t hear that part of the conversation. You will have to go to Padme. She will probably have an easier time telling you.” I say trying to hide my discomfort. I wasn’t jealous of Padme but I didn’t understand how Obi wan was more compelling to be more open with her than with me. Someone who has been by his side more often than not. We did our first mission together. One of many. We have a force connection only we share more powerful than most. I was there when Quin Gon died and he was crying in his room all night. Then he took on the responsibility of Anakin Skywalker.

“You’re right as ever.” He says and gives me a small smile and a squeeze on my shoulder.

“I’ll continue to figure out the code. You go speak with Padme.” I say trying not to grind my teeth with every word that comes out of my mouth. The last thing I want is to be alone. Not when he has finally come home.

“I’ll fetch you when I’m done.” He replies before he leaves with one last stare that could say a million things.

It feels like an eternity since he left but I reach out slightly on the parameters of his force line. Padme is in shock and disbelief. She doesn’t end up telling him where despite how much he pushes in her head but he does sense the child she carries is Anakin’s. Thank the stars I don’t have to keep that a secret anymore. Padme didn’t tell me, but it was easy prying into Anakin’s mind when he asked me to watch over her. That and how she was eating more and the belly was starting to show.

I sense his presence coming closer to me and I meet him out on a small landing dock where no one would detect us.

“You’re just going to have to sit sideways in my lap.” He explains with a bit of cough and the tips of his ears tinge pink. He’s embarrassed. My heart is pounding but I do it anyway.

We go to the senate building and disguise ourselves to a hanger where Padme's ship is being ready for take off. Obi grabs my hand and we sneak onto the ship undetected by Padme and C3PO. Obi wan informed on the way here that she didn’t tell him where Anakin is but has been sensing she is going after him. We hide in a compartment together on the ship. I settle for sitting down and hugging my legs to my chest. Obi takes a Jedi kneeling stance across from me.

‘Did you know about the baby?’ He projects into my mind.

‘Yes. I knew.’ I begrudgingly say.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He questions.

‘It wasn’t my place to tell. I read Anakin’s mind and found out my suspicions were true.’

‘Ah.’

‘Why did you say that when the war broke out?’ I ask timidly. I wish there was a wall between us. I don’t dare look at him when I ask this question.

‘What do you mean?’ I can feel him start to close off.

‘You called me, “my love”. What did you mean?’

‘...’ he is silent at first but then sighs and rubs his hand down his face. ‘I suppose I can’t hide it any longer. I don’t need to. I meant I love you. Because I do. I have loved you for a long time now. I just knew we couldn’t give in. We were always passing each other too. The missions together became less and communicating became more silent. It wasn’t the Jedi way. Now there is no Jedi.’

‘Oh Obi there is Jedi. There’s you, me, Yoda, and hopefully we can save Anakin.’

‘Yes.’ I can feel the hesitation. He’s on edge but blurts it out bluntly through the force. ‘Do you love me?’

I try not to smile big seeing as my heart will burst but all I feel right now for Obi Wan is love. We are about to enter a battlefield with a friend turned foe and yet none of that matters as much as I feel for Obi Wan Kenobi.

‘Yes.’ I say this time meaning it with my entire heart. Probably the first real truthful yes I’ve said all day. I can feel the love he has kept hidden, flow through me and it’s bliss and would leave me in daze if I didn’t know what we were about to do.

Landing in disguise was probably the hardest and easiest part. Padme didn’t know we were there and anakin’s energy was too high off the charts to focus on multiple things at once. His sole focus was Padme that much we could feel. We waited until she made it off the ship and then as we snuck out of our little compartment I looked to see 3CPO spot us and I gave him a signal of silence and for once he didn't make a sound. I hear Anakin’s voice and look back at obi wan at the entrance exposing his presence.

Everything after that happened so quickly. Padme being choked and falling unconscious. Anakin and Obi Wan start to negotiate but no real negotiation takes place. Obi wan in his mind tells me stay on board, Padme is still breathing, and Anakin could hurt me if i expose myself now. I stay back until I hear them start to duel and leave the scene. I run out to Padme whose unconscious but through the force I can feel she's under a lot of stress she can’t handle and I fear the baby-no babies it seems: twins, will be coming sooner than expected. I get 3CPO’s help to load Padme back into the ship and let her rest. I want to call out to Obi wan but I fear it would distract him.

I reach out to have my force barely touch Obi wan’s as I feel a sudden anguish overwhelm me in my meditation in the force. Obi wan felt nothing but pain as he had to leave his brother, someone who was the closest thing he had to family being left to die. He wasn't looking to make Anakin suffer but as we all know that wasn’t Anakin anymore but Darth Vadar. I send 3CPO to inform Obi wan as he makes his way back to the ship. I can feel he is miserable and tired. 3CPO sets the coordinates as I make the call for a medic droid to be ready once we arrive. Obi Wan pays Padme a visit to Padme. I hear her ask about Anakin as she did when I helped her lay down for rest. She will never be the same again, but at least she has her children.

Obi wan makes his way to the front of the ship, silent. I can feel the indifference of pain within him. I think to myself he must need space right now and make my way back towards Padme. If only I could help relieve some of the pain he’s feeling.

“Come back…” I hear softly called out. I’m almost at Padme’s door when I faintly hear the voice. I turn around and see Obi wan looking at the ground and running his hand down his face as he does when in hard times.

“Did you say something?” I ask, wondering if I heard wrong.

“I don’t want space.”

“Oh.” Was he mind reading me earlier?

“I don’t want space. I want you. ...I need you, please stay with me.”

I feel my heartbreak a little at the crack of his voice. He is doing his best to stay strong, but he just did the impossible and shouldered the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. No one will understand, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try or help him one way or another.

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

thAT WAS THERAPY FOR ME LMAO i hope u enjoyed reading this late night and perhaps forgotten story i wrote. 

#obi wan #obi wan x reader #angst #sw #Star Wars fanfic

[gunterfan1992]

Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #atdl #half shy #monster #bubbline #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #pb #adam muto #interview

[alice-angel12x]

💔Gem!Deku x Gem!Reader

"You think this is the place?" Asked a rouge.

"Yep, that's what our sources tell us," Said another.

"You got the cages and rope ready," The leader asked.

"Yeah of course, but why did we bring this dead weight," A low Lackie asked kicking a tarp-covered cage.

"Because this dead weight is our bait. Those rocks have a soft spot for their own kind, especially the weaker and fragile ones," The leader said as he ripped the tarp away.

Revealing a bound Phosphophyllite gem with messy dark green hair and green eyes. His wrists and ankles were tied together, and a piece of cloth was wrapped around his mouth.

"You know the drill, right Deku," The leader smiled cruelly.

"MMhhm! NNmph!" Deku tried to scream.

The Trappers grabbed the helpless gem as they descended into the caves.

The Kessho people, or gem people many humans call them. Being made entirely of crystals of all kinds, they are highly sought after by humans. Because their entire body was made of pure and untainted crystals, many hunters seek these beauties. For things from jewelry to weapons, or just want a shiny servent, many reasons.

So the gems hide in many places of the world, from small islands to deep underground tunnels and caves. Anywhere out of human reach.

-------

Please. I don't want any part of this. Please let me go! I tried to cry out but I couldn't with the gag in the way. The memories of previous raids started resurfacing. They would use gems like me to lure others out of hiding, for what reason they help me varies. Some communities of gem had an elitist-like community, or even ones made up of one kind of gems. But when they got close they were ambushed and locked away in cages. They would after be turned into weapons and jewelry.

"Here, place him here," The leader Rato said.

They placed me down near a ledge and ripped away from my gag. Looking over I could see two gems walking by down below. I tried to stay as quiet and still as I could so they wouldn't notice me.

"Deku's too quiet," Rato growled.

He stomped on my hand shattering it. I could hold back the pain as I cried out, it echoed throughout the cave. Looking down at the gems below they quickly spotted me and ran away. Good at least they won't get caught.

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

Suddenly there was a rustle and a-

"SMASH!!" shouted a large gem.

The gem delivered a powerful punch knocking three of the rouges away. Deku stared in awe at the scene and the powerful gem with a brave smile on his face, but the wind was so strong that Deku was blown off the edge. Time seemed to slow as he watches the edge grow farther and farther away. Deku shut his eyes closed waiting for his painful end When an f/c blurr caught him.

"Are you alright?" Asked a kind voice.

Deku looked up to his hero to be meet E/c eyes with their hair the same color to match. His eyes sparkled as his hero's hair Glimmered beautifully in the moonlight. He looked down to see he was being held bridle style.

"Y-yes," Deku stuttered bashfully.

"Don't worry your safe now, as long as your under All Mights protection you have nothing to fear," The (gem type) smiled.

But Deku couldn't help but just stare at this new gem as an infatuation grew. His captures were long dealt with as the new group of gems escorted him back to their hidden home.

"u-um who are you?" Deku asked the mysterious G/t(gem type).

"Well my friends like to call me Y/n," they smiled as they untied Deku.

"I-I'm Deku," He said with a beet-red face.

"Pleasure to meet you Deku," Y/n greeted as they handed him over to other gems.

"Ochaco, Momo this is Deku. Please get him property clothed and make sure he feels welcomed," All Might a Yellow diamond smiled. (No not that one)

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

From that day on I have lived with these Gems for the past 300 years, and my feelings for Y/n only grew. They were so brave and confident, was also one of the greatest fighters in the village. One of the few gems trained under All Might. Sadly cause I only have a toughness scale of 3, so I wasn't suited for combat.

Though All Might noticed that I was very observant and good with notes, so he assigned me to the encyclopedia. My job is to take notes of the enemies we encounter and record events. Then there were some books about stuff I made up, humans would call them fantasies or stories. Though I didn't mind this being my job cause Y/n would come by and read my works. I couldn't help but feel lighter than air and embarrassed at the same time as they were reading my work.

Y/n would always come in after her patrol, come in and read, or more often just sit down and talk to me. Though most of the time it was just him listening to whatever good memories of the human world, or my memories of my original home.

I tried to keep my feeling to myself the best I could by just doodling in my private book, just for my eyes only, but I guess I wasn't secret enough.

"Wow dude, you really have a thing for Y/n," said a voice.

I gasped as I jumped back to see it was Denki, who quickly snatched my drawing book and speed through my embarrassing drawings.

"Wow, you've got it bad. All these drawings are of Y/n and you being lovey-dovey," He said out loud.

Attracting the attention of Iida the Topaz and Ochaco the pink diamond ( No not that one you SU fans). They quickly came over and looked through my book.

"Wow, looks like Touya has a love rival," Ochaco gasped.

Touya the padparadscha gem, was also one of the top fighters for the village and is always Y/n's patrol partner, who was also pinning after them too. There would be times he would just randomly jump into our conversation and steal their attention. But I couldn't hear what they were saying as I covered my ears in embarrassment.

"Oh no, Y/n forgot their other sword," Momo gasped.

"I'll take it to them!" I offered as I quickly grabbed the weapon and ran out of the library.

"Does he know  where Y/n and Touya are?" Momo asked.

"It even notes was Y/n patrols today," Denki said flipping through the pages not paying attention.

----------

Y/n and Touya stood guard at one of the cave entrances, as the warm sunlight funneled through. Y/n smiled as she felt the warm light on her powered covered surface.

"Hey Y/n, do you ever wonder what could be on the surface?" Touya asked.

"Ever since Deku came and told me stories of the surface, it only fueled my imagination," Y/n turned to her trusted partner.

"One day we'll be the ones on top, and I'll take you all over the surface. Just you and me," Touya said with confidence.

" That's an awfully big promise Touya," Y/n said as they sat next to him.

"I mean we can always just wait till the humans go extinct," Touya suggested.

"Haha, all right. I'll hold you to that promise," Y/n laughed as they gently held Touya's hand.

Deku watched from the side of a tunnel wall, as he sighed sadly and turned back into the tunnel. He wandered the cave tunnels as he hugged Y/n's sword close to him. As he turned the corner he bumped into something, something large.

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

I felt lighter than air as I stared into Y/n's e/c eyes.

"AAAAHHHH!" Someone screamed.

"How did the enemy pass us?" Y/n gasped.

"No, maybe the other entrances were compromised," I suggested.

"You go check the next entrance over and see if anything is wrong, I'll go check up the tunnels," Y/n said as she ran down into the dark caves.

With a sigh, I ran to the next entrance that leads to the forests, which was supposed to be guarded by Katsuki and Shoto. Turning the corner he saw two humans picking up pieces of Shoto and Bakugou and stuffing them into potato sacks. Touya quickly drew his sword and cut down the intruders.

Touya to worried about his partner quickly stuffed the rest of Shoto and Bakugou into the bag, not caring he is mixing their pieces, and quickly ran to the village.

---------

"Looks like we caught a phosphophyllite, hold that rock tight Nomu," A light blue hair human smile.

The giant mutant humanoid figure Nomu nodded silently as it the poor gem in its giant hands. Deku's arms were broken off as he was restrained by Nomu's brute strength.

"What fine craftsmen ship, able to slice through rock," Said a tall human with dark back- purple hair.

"LET ME GO!" Deku screamed as he tried to break free from the Nomu.

"Nomu shut the pebble up before he alerts the others," The man growled.

"HEY!" Y/n shouted.

"Another one," The other human grumbled.

"Y/n," Deku smiled in relief.

"Let him go," Y/n said lowly.

"Nomu get it," Tomura pointed at the G/t.

Y/n ran towards the creature and sliced its head clean off, with the sharp edge of her arm. Deku stared with worried and sad eyes as he looked over their damaged form. The left section around her face was broken off, the elbow broke off their left arm, they were missing their right hand, and her right leg was horribly cracked, and it looked like it could fall apart at any moment.

Y/n moved swiftly and kicked the human hard in the face. Deku quickly got up as the two ran down the tunnel.

Deku looked back to see Y/n was having a bit of trouble keeping up with Deku.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Deku asked.

"Don't worry turn right and follow," Y/n said as she pushed forward.

As the two quickly turned the corner, the humans regained their composer and made chase after the two.  Y/n pushed a medium-sized boulder away from a tiny hole in the side of the cave wall. Deku hesitantly got in when suddenly Y/n started to close the opening.

"Y/n What are you doing?" Deku asked as the opening became too small for him to even squeeze out of.

"Hiding you, I'll come back for you. I have to lead them away from the village," Y/n explained as they backed away.

"No, Please don't do this. Don't leave me Y/n. I- I want to tell you something first,'' Deku said quickly.

Y/n smiled sadly as she turned to face Deku from the other side of the boulder. Deku could tell they were ready to throw their life away for everyone, for him.

"Y/n, I love-,"

Suddenly Y/n's head was sliced clean off by a thrown sword. Deku gasped in horror as he watched Y/n's body fall to the ground, he tried to reach out but he had no arm to hold out.

Deku wanted to scream and cry, but no sound came out of him. Y/n slowly turned their head towards Deku and mouthed.

'Please live for me, Deku," they mouthed as the humans quickly gathered her broken body.

They were in such a rush they left Y/n's head behind. Deku fell to his knees as he stared at his crush for so long. It felt like an eternity When All Might and Touya arrived, Their eyes widen with horror and sorrow as Touya fell to his knees and held Y/n's head. He put their foreheads together as he cried out in sorrow.

"NOO!" Touya cried.

All might soon notice Deku was trapped behind the boulder and quickly moved it aside with no effort.

"Let us go Young Deku, we need to evacuate the village before they bring more of them," All might said as he helped Deku to his feet.

-----------

(400 years later)

It has been a long time since Y/n's death, All Might changed in a way after his student's death. If he weren't needed, he would lock himself away, but for the most part, he was still the jolly smiling gem he was before. Touya, on the other hand, didn't take Y/n's death all that well, he did lose his love who was his partner for 800 years. He started to call himself Dabi and started to cover only parts of his face, giving him a patchwork look. It not only scared most humans but fellow gems too.

I was upgraded to a medic after Momo was taken about 200 years back, we some people over the years and gained new ones too. I helped piece gems back together, but my main goal is to bring Y/n back. The village moved up high into the mountain, so high it would be difficult for them to breathe, but Humans would risk their lives and come up anyways. Some came with Weapons and tools made of gems, and many times they were G/t so I slowly put Y/n back together piece by piece.

I Finished them for the most part, but there were still 3 large gaping holes in their torso. I tried to use other gem pieces that matched her Mohs scale. Yet it only worked sometimes, she would wake up for about three minutes. Yet when they do everyone who was watching my work quickly rushed in to tell them how much they missed them and update them on everything.

Even Tou- Dabi would come by. Y/n was weirded out at first but they got used to it quickly and I would never really get a chance to talk to them, but I will never forget the last time they woke up. As they said their goodnight to everyone, they turned to me as said.

"I'll miss you Deku, I can't wait to wake up to see you again," Y/n smiled as they fell back unconscious.

I'll bring you back Y/n so I can tell you how I feel.

#houseki no kuni #gem #mha #mha angst #mha deku #izuku mydoria #izuku x reader #deku x reader #angst #bnha midoriya #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #CrossOver

[ketamineharry]

Scars To Your Beautiful - Joshua Bradley 

Requested: No, this was just something I wanted to get out there as a love letter to all of the stunning people reading this xx

Trigger Warnings: Hints at an eating disorder, self-harm 

You sat on your sofa, in the apartment that you shared with your boyfriend, Josh. He had just finished recording one of his Zerkaa Thursday’s and had come to sit down with you. He wrapped an arm around you, placing a kiss on your cheek, as he grabbed his phone.

“I’m gonna order some food, ya boy’s hungry. D’ya want anything?” He asked, as he opened the Deliveroo app.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m really tired actually. So I’m gonna head to bed.” You informed him, as you gave him a kiss and made your way to your bedroom. The hunger pains made themselves known instantly. Stabbing you, as they reminded you just what you were doing this for. If you were ever going to be good enough for Josh, you needed to be thinner, prettier, nicer, the list went on. The prettier and nicer part, was going to take a bit more time… But, you could start getting thinner by just not eating much, counting the calories.

You got changed into your pyjamas, the clothes, which were once a snug fit, hung around you loosely like the trophy you quite literally wore for starving yourself and losing the weight you so desperately wanted to get rid of. Flinging the duvet back, you got into bed, trying to get yourself to sleep, making a silent promise to yourself that you were going to eat less tomorrow. That you wouldn’t feel so guilty about eating an apple for breakfast, because you would skip breakfast entirely.

Soon enough, Josh joined you in the bedroom. He got into his nightwear and made his way into bed. His face, a concoction of concern and worry. He swallowed hard, as if he was going to approach a tough topic, you were unsure of what because as far as you were concerned everything was fine.

“I’m really worried about you, Y/N.” He said, breaking the silence. His voice laced with concern. “You haven’t eaten properly in so long. You haven’t been yourself in even longer. I don’t know what I can do to make you feel better. I don’t even know how I can make it better. I need you to communicate with me, please.” He begged.

“Why are you even with me? Out of all the gorgeous, thin girls in the world. You chose me.” You whispered softly, the shame of it almost too much to bear.

“Because, you are the most beautiful person I have ever met. You’re funny, honest and loyal. Your eccentricity brightens up my life, there're so many jokes that I’m old and boring but with you every day I feel young and reckless. From the moment I met you, you have breathed fresh air into these old lungs. How could I not love you?”He told you, matter-of-factly, as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you into him. A soft kiss shared between you both, before he pulled away. 

“I think it might be a good idea if we go shopping tomorrow. I know you always feel better when you get a new outfit. Especially since these pyjamas are practically hanging off of you now. You need something that fits a little bit better.”

 You thought about it for a moment, the fear of Josh seeing the mess that you were, was all consuming. It made you want to scream, no. Tell him that he was selfish. But the fact of the matter was, he wasn’t being selfish. He was trying to do what he did best, he was trying to help you. You just didn’t know how to respond, you had tried to keep this so private. Keep it as your issue. That you didn’t realise how obvious you had made things. He had noticed way too quickly. 

“I’d like that, but only if we get shoes to match too.” You bartered, knowing that he would agree to it.

 --

You held Josh’s hand as you entered New Look, the constant anxiety that someone was looking at you, was overwhelming. Josh led you to the jeans aisle, as he picked up a pair and held them up. Waiting for your approval. They were pretty decent, so you simply nodded your head. He placed them into the shopping basket you had picked up.

 Soon enough, you had found a plain black bodysuit to go with the jeans. As the design was so simple, it would help build more than one outfit. The only thing missing was a nice pair of white trainers. 

“I’m gonna try and find the changing rooms. I’ll be back in a second.” You informed him, very aware that the moment that you slipped away from him that your anxiety would increase tenfold. But, the alternative of having him come with you and actually witness what you had done to yourself, was worse. Way worse. 

The cloakroom attendant gave you a smile as she led you to a changing room. You stepped inside and closed the curtain, thankful for some sort of privacy. As you looked yourself up and down in the mirror, before taking any of your clothing off, you could just feel yourself becoming physically ill. It had been a while since you had seen yourself in any type of mirror, tending to try and avoid anything with a reflective surface. 

You turned your back to the mirror, hoping that once you couldn’t see yourself, you’d feel better in this new outfit. That this outfit would somehow cure how you had been feeling about yourself and heal all of the wounds that that sentiment had caused. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the angry slashes that you had left on your arms, reflecting back at you in the mirror. The silver lines of the scabs as your body tried to heal itself, presented themselves like some sort of wicked trick that your mind was playing on you. Reminding you just how powerful it was. How your mental health had been controlling you. 

The overwhelming thoughts turned into dizziness. Thankfully, it was the type of dressing room to have a chair in the corner. Against better judgement, you got out your phone and rang Josh. You needed him right now, despite how bad you were going to feel when he saw what you had done to yourself. You needed him to comfort you. The phone rang for two beats, before he picked up. 

“I think I’m having a panic attack,” you informed him.

“Stay where you are, I’m coming.” 

Josh knocked on the wall, outside of the changing cubicle letting you know that it was him before he stepped inside. Finding you in a mess, your arms that you had tried so desperately to cover for weeks, on show, makeup smudged from crying. The embarrassment of him seeing you like this at all, mixed in with how you were already feeling, felt like your own personal hell.

As Josh took the scene that you had presented him with, in. His face went from anger, to shock, to concern. He enveloped you in a tight hug. You could practically hear his brain processing everything, as he tried to search for the right words to say.

“You are so much more than this.” He said, breaking the silence for the first time since entering the clothing cubicle. “I’m just so angry with myself for not spotting the sign's sonner. I’m your fucking boyfriend Y/N, if you ever feel like this please just come to me. You don’t ever need to suffer on your own, not while I’m here.” He told you softly.

“Now, let’s get this outfit on you, yeah?” He smiled, as he grabbed the bodysuit. Softly pulling it down you as to not catch the healing wounds on your arms. He knelt down, doing up the buttons at the end of the bodysuit for you.

“I want to get my jeans on myself and show you how good this outfit will look.” You told him, attempting a smile. He nodded and informed you he would be just outside if you needed him. You took the jeans off of the hanger and slipped them on. With a deep breath, you walked out to Josh. The nervousness from before, had made itself apparent again.

He looked you up and down, a broad smile plastered across his face.

“Oi there, my peng ting from Barking.” He said, as he chuckled. His laugh was loud and infectious, which caused you to join in. It had been a while since you had properly laughed, it felt like you were on your way back to some sort of normality and it felt good.

#Joshua Bradley #Joshua Bradley imagine #Joshua Bradley x reader #Joshua Bradley oneshot #Zerkaa #Zerkaa imagine #Zerkaa x reader #Zerkaa oneshot #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen x reader #sidemen oneshot