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teaboot · 3 days

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Hi! (just a personal ask. Sorry if it's not okay to ask for advice out of nowhere but I wanted to see an outer perspective and didn't wanna ask my friends. No pressure to answer of course but I would love to hear your thoughts!)

Is it normal for me to feel overwhelmed about something I want? I am just starting med school and it's a lot but I am fighting. And in my culture, parents buy their daughters their like things?? (like towels and bed sheets and a fridge. Anything they can buy except the apartment basically) for marriage from a young age. But my mom just started recently. And when she first bought me something. The idea of getting married & being a doctor (both things I want) felt like too much I teared up. My mom said I was being spoilers I guess?? Like I was ruining a good moment? Of course it is not that serious since I wasn't outright crying, and I just laughed afterwards as I felt silly lol ,but It got me thinking if I was being that dramatic.

This honestly felt like the moment in the movie where the mom hugs her daughter and says something like "oh how much you've grown" . Her retort felt like it was out of the script.

If you find time to answer, please be extremely blunt. Because I know for a fact I have a tendency to exaggerate things.

You are not overreacting. You are not exagerrating things. And I'm going to tell you this, because I experience this, the tendency to downplay your own feelings and recollections of events very often comes from having other people do it to you first. People tell you your feelings are wrong, or stupid, or irrational, and you learn to listen to them instead of yourself.

It makes complete sense that coming up on a major cultural milestone would make you feel excited, or scared, or overwhelmed. It sounds like you came upon the first step of a very big change and the reality of it all hit you at once, which sounds completely normal and expected!

Fuck, *I* used to get that about moving houses, and YOU'RE expecting shit like marriage? Holy fuck! I'd be a complete mess! The fact that you're level-headed enough to ask questions and process your feelings and talk things through is impressive, because I think I'd be losing my mind.

Personal story, but when I turned 17, my mom asked me if I wanted to go to a restaurant to celebrate. When I told her that it sounded nice, but I'd rather have dinner at home with the family, she told me I was a selfish narcissist, and that I was so busy thinking of myself that I didn't consider that other people might have been excited to go out.

At the time, I thought she'd been harsh but ultimately correct.

Now, I see that she had decided what kind of perfect evening she had wanted, and had expected me to play the part in the movie she had written herself. It had never been about what I wanted at all- it had been about her personal desires and expectations.

And it's normal to feel frustrated about things that don't go the way we want or expect, but lashing out at others is not an appropriate way to handle those emotions.

The way we feel cannot be controlled like a machine. The way we feel is usually not a problem. The problem is what we do, and the choices we make based on those feelings.

Children throw tantrums and sat mean things because they haven't learned better yet. They don't have the practice or experience. Adults like your mother and mine should have that on lock, but often don't, especially if culture or tradition or social expectations tell them their actions are justified.

If I had to take take guess, I'd say it sounds like your mom gave you this gift with an idea in mind of how she wanted you to react. She probably wanted you to be grateful and praising and sweet, so she could fulfill the role she envisioned for herself, and when you deviated from that picture, she was disappointed. From that perspective, it would seem that she felt slighted, and that she was owed your gratitude, and you were at fault for withholding it.

This perspective makes sense, in an emotionally immature sort of way, but would completely overlook your feelings, which are just as important.

Your exact situation is not one I've been in before, but if I'm correct in my assumptions (which I may not be) then I'd suggest keeping an eye out for other instances of your perspective and feelings being minimized.

Are you often told you are behaving irrationally? That you're over-emotional? That you're self-centered or greedy or entitled? Are you told that you don't remember things or do things as you're told? That you see problems where there aren't any? That you male trouble where there is none? That certain conversations aren't worth having, or that "you're always like this"?

It sounds like you know that something is off. I'd encourage you to keep asking questions and follow your instincts. At the end of the day, your life is your own, no matter where it came from.

#Teaboot advice #Good luck

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delicatebarness · 3 days

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i think he knows | chapter five

Summary: It's game night.

Warnings: A few punches. Bucky's a wind-up. If you find any more, please let me know and I can add them.

Word Count: 1901

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A/N: I wanted this one to be the longest chapter yet, it didn't happen but I don't think it would have flowed if I added more.

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10

Friday approached quickly, and the anticipation and excitement of the game had reached further than just the football pitch. Every corner of the school was decorated and filled with cheering, almost every student had been consumed by school spirit. Your brother’s name echoed through the hallways, a testament to the weight resting on his shoulders.

Unlike the rest of the team, Steve’s ambitions extended beyond high school glory. This wasn’t just a game to him, it was the starting point for a brighter future. He had the means to defy the expectations set by the privileged upbringing you had. He knew one way or the other, he’d get into college. However, from a young age, he wanted to carve his legacy, independent from his family’s influence.

Tonight’s game wasn’t about winning or losing, it was about proving to himself that he is more than his privilege and family name.

Outside, you navigated the bustling parking lot, the scent of freshly cut grass and the roaring cheering eloped your senses. Despite knowing that Bucky and his friends wouldn’t bother attending, their disdain was well-known for school events, you couldn’t shake the hope of catching a glimpse of his signature leather amidst the crowd.

You were about to dismiss your wishful thinking when you finally spotted it, a solitary leather jacket leaning against the chained fence toward the back of the parking lot. You bubbled with excitement, reaching the same level of hype as others around you. It was out of character for you on game nights. The urge to make your way over to him or offer a wave washed away at the realization that your parents were beside you.

The thought of their questions, probing for answers you didn’t know yourself, brought you back down from the clouds. Which ironically, weren’t anywhere to be seen in the sky tonight.

As you made your way toward the football field, you couldn’t help but wonder what could have awaited you beyond the watchful eyes and protective figures in your life.

At halftime, the scores were tied. The crowd buzzed with excitement around you, yet, you couldn’t help the feeling that this wasn’t where you were meant to be. An impulse came over you as you looked down towards the exit and then back at your friends sitting behind you.

“I’ll be right back, cover for me, please,” you pleaded to them, not taking a moment to explain. They both nodded, already knowing what you were planning. Slipping through the crowd down to the exit, you took a deep breath before stepping out.

And there, just as you had expected, Bucky stood at the edge of the parking lot, leaning against his motorbike, cigarette dangling between his fingers. His eye lit up when he spotted you walking toward him, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Fancy seeing you here, Sunshine.” You couldn’t help but smile back at him, the tension of the game, and family expectations faded away in seconds. He took the helmet hanging from the handlebar and handed it to you. Accepting the helmet, you fastened it securely under your chin.

“I need to be back before the game finishes,” you reminded him urgently. With a reassuring smile, he extended a hand to help you onto the back of the bike. You settled into position, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your protected head against his back. The engine roared to life beneath you, you felt lighter the second he took off.

When the engine of the bike stopped, you realized that Bucky had brought you to The Overlook. Perched on top of a rugged cliffside, it offered a view of the whole town. It was illuminated by the glow of streetlights. Moments like this made you thankful that your hometown mostly got clear nights and not too much light pollution to stop the flicker of stars.

Standing side by side, the cool air swirled around you as you silently appreciated the view.

“Why do you call me ‘Sunshine’?” you asked breaking the silence, curiosity lacing your voice as you gazed up at Bucky, he was the only person to call you by the endearing nickname. You had been wondering since that first time, why?

A faint smile played on his lips as he considered how to answer your questions. “You remind me of that song” he explained before clearing his throat and began singing softly but slightly out of key. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” As the familiar lyrics filled the quiet small-town air, he pulled you closer by the waist into a slow dance that seemed to stop time and space itself. “You make me happy when skies are gray.” he continued, you melted into his embrace, swaying as the world faded behind you.

As the song came to an end, your head rested on his chest and his chin came down to rest on top of your head. You lingered in each other’s arms for a moment longer. Neither of you wanted to be the first to pull away. It was the most intimate moment of your life. It gave you a glimmer of hope.

For a second, you lifted your head meeting his gaze. A silent question lingered in his eyes as they moved from yours to your lips and back. With a soft nod, you gave him permission to close the gap between you, close the distance, and be the closest you have ever been to anyone.

Gently, he cupped your cheek, his fingers trailed over your skin as he leaned down and into you. Time stood still as his lips hovered over yours, you could only hear both your hearts beating.

In a moment, his lips met yours. A symphony of emotions crashed over you. It was filled with longing and desire as if you both had waited your entire lives for this moment. His grip on your waist tightened as the hand on your cheek moved into your hair, pulling you closer to him before you both came up for air. You both gazed into the other's eyes as you caught your breath.

“I don’t want to take you back,” he sighed.

You spotted your family and friends in the sea of supporters located on the bleachers as you made your way back to your seat. You waved at them as you approached. Thankfully, your dad was too invested in the game to notice your presence. Your mom, on the other hand, gave you a look you had never seen before from her. It was a mixture of confusion and understanding.

During a crucial moment in the fourth quarter, your school was up by a single point. Everything seemed to have gone well until movement caught your eye at the edge of the field. Bucky. Oh no.

His gaze locked onto yours, your breath hitched as you wondered why he would choose now to come inside. You blinked breaking your gaze, looking out at the field you noticed Steve’s concentration had wavered. His eyes were locked on Bucky. It was as if his presence alone had the strength to throw Steve off his game.

You watched in dismay as the other school, dressed in black and red with an octopus school mascot, seized the opportunity that gained them ground and threatened to score. Refocusing, Steve turned his attention back to the game. It was too late, the damage had been done. They were losing time and now points. The last few minutes of the game ticked, and the tension on the field and the bleachers grew.

With seconds on the clock, Steve led the team, desperately pushing to regain control of the game. The crowd fell quiet. “Come on, Stevie,” you whispered under your breath.

The final whistle blew, and the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. They did it, The Brooklyn Knights had done it. They won. Players rushed onto the field, cheering and celebrating with each other. You watched as Steve broke away from the celebration running the opposite way, in Bucky’s direction.

You rushed down to the edge of the field, following the direction of your brother. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and dread crept with every step you took. As you turned into the hallway they had reached, you saw Steve striding purposefully towards the waiting smirk of Bucky Barnes.

Without a word, Steve’s fist swung up with force striking a blow to Bucky’s cheek. He stumbled back slightly but his smirk remained in place. “I warned you,” Steve spat, his voice filled with rage.

“That all you got, Rogers?” Bucky taunted your brother, tone laced with arrogance. Another blow, except this time to his stomach.

“Stop!” your voice cutting through the tension as you thrust yourself between the two. Ignoring the way your heart was pounding, you stood staring up at your brother. “Please,” your voice was barely a whisper as you pleaded.

“Home. Now,” All three of your heads snapped toward the voice. Your dad. He’d been close behind you after you ignored his calls previously. Behind him stood your mom, Wanda, and Peter. He marched over pushing Steve away from you and Bucky slightly. You watched in disbelief as they walked toward the parking lot. You turned to look over Bucky’s injuries, “Now!” your dad's demand echoed through the hallway. You whispered apologies to Bucky as you began to follow your family.

Your eyes locked with Wanda’s, gesturing toward Bucky, you silently asked her to ensure he was okay. Her eyes filled with empathy as she nodded, making a promise to you.

“He’s using you!” Steve’s voice echoed up the stairs, yelling as he followed you into your bedroom. Desperate to escape the confrontation, you tried to slam your door shut, but his hand shot out stopping it.

“No, he isn’t.” you protested, your voice began to tremble as you fought back tears. The worst scenario playing out in your mind. The biggest question that you feared the answer to. Was Bucky using you?

“He’s playing you, Y/N! You don’t know him like I do, you don’t know his so-called friends,” His words felt like they were cutting into you like tiny paper cuts. His voice filled with bitterness and frustration. His eyes were boring into you, he needed you to understand.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you raised your voice back at him, attempting to drown out his accusations.

He was relentless, filled with anger and sorrow as he continued to unveil the true reasons why he worried about you being around Bucky, why he didn’t trust him. “They pick a victim, like you, and they place bets on how far they can push you, how long it takes, where it happens. They lure you in and make you feel safe and special. Then, they take advantage of you,” he took a pause, catching his breath before continuing with a sigh. “And after, they just discard you like you never mattered.”

“Steven!” Your dad’s voice boomed from the doorway, Steve’s body had been shielding you away from the fury in his eyes as he listened to his son recount this sort of behavior. Particularly, in the context of his daughter’s vulnerability. “I think that’s enough.”

The ground felt like it was crumbling around you. Any moment now it would have swallowed you whole. Was it true?

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