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bloody-britt26 · 4 years

Note

Could I request Piers falling in love with a single mom reader? Maybe she can have a Drampa who's very protective of her and her son/daughter because it doesn't want them to be hurt by anyone. Drampa love children so I thought it was fitting! Thank you!! ❤

This was so cute and fun to write! I made this into a drabble because I got very inspired for this prompt, and I honestly could have kept going. You guys can let me know if you want more parts to this!

🎸 Piers falling in love with a single mother reader 🎸

“Elias, could you help me unload the cart onto the counter?” You asked your son.

“Okay mummy,” he replied in a sweet tone.

You both set your various food items onto the counter, letting the cashier scan each one of them. You bit your lip nervously as you looked at the price go up with each item. You had bought just enough to make it through the week, now you had to hope that you had made enough money to pay for your groceries.

“I’ll go put the cart back,” Elias said.

You nodded with a smile, he was such a sweet boy, always helping you to the best of his abilities whether you asked or not.

“That’ll be 32,000 Pokémon Dollars, please,” the cashier said.

You nodded, taking your wallet out and rummaging through it. As you counted your money, you felt panic flow through your mind as you noticed that you weren’t going to have enough.

Oh dear, you only had 27,000.

You set the money down on the counter, cringing as the cashier gave you a funny look.

“Ma'am, there’s 5,000 Pokémon Dollars missing,” the cashier said.

‘I know, damn it!’

You forced a nervous laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Let me just- maybe I have a card or coupon…”

Nothing of the sort was found in your wallet. You shook in embarrassment as you felt everyone’s judgmental eyes on you. You pocketed your wallet rather abruptly and opened up your bag.

“H-Hold on… maybe I’ve got something to sell,” you said.

You rummaged through your bag, hoping to find a star piece, a pearl, anything. Of course, you had no valuable items left, except for the golden chain around your neck.

Your heart broke at the thought of parting with it as it was a gift from your grandmother, but you were in a tight spot.

As you were about to unhook the chain from your neck, you felt a light tug at your shirt. Looking down, your son was looking at you with sad eyes.

“But mummy, that necklace is important to you,” he said.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t worry about it,” you said.

Elias was having none of it. He shook his head in protest. “Don’t get rid of it. It’ll make you sad, and I don’t want to see you sad, mummy.”

“Elias…”

“We can put the cookies back. I don’t need them,” he said.

“But I promised you a treat,” you said in a sad tone.

“It’s okay. You’re more important than cookies,” he said as he hugged your arm.

You didn’t even know how to react. You really were blessed with the sweetest boy. He was so mature for his age, though it was probably your fault. The reality of being alone to take care of your home and child hit you hard, and you couldn’t spoil Elias like other parents could, even if you wanted to do so. You sincerely hoped that you weren’t ruining his childhood.

You felt tears well up as you heard other shoppers in line mutter words of disapproval at you.

“Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

“What a wreck.”

“That child deserves better.”

“Why did she have a kid if she can’t take care of him properly?”

A hand that was gently put atop your shoulder snapped you out of your sorrow. Looking behind you, was a tall and lanky man, seemingly around your age. He was extremely pale, visible bags underneath his green eyes. He had a punk look, from his outfit to his black and white hairstyle. He seemed to be hunched over slightly. He looked like a wreck, but rather attractive if you were being completely honest. You felt like you had seen him somewhere before. On TV, perhaps?

You shook your head, ready to apologize for taking up so much time, but he quickly shushed.

“You ain’t gon’ need to sell your necklace, or put anythin’ back on the shelves,” he said.

He reached into his jacket’s pocket, taking out 5,000 Pokémon Dollars, putting the money atop the counter.

You blinked, not used to being helped by complete strangers. Still, you felt dirty by taking this man’s money.

“I can’t… I can’t accept this,” you said.

He waved you off. “It’s all good, just take it.”

“I- thank you, sir,” you said as the cashier took the money and bagged your items.

Your son looked up at the man, a small twinkle in his eyes. “Thank you very much, mister.”

A very small, barely noticeable smile found its way onto the man’s face. “Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

As the man paid for his very few items, your son picked up one of the grocery bags, while you grabbed the remaining two.

As you were about to walk out, one of the bags was taken out of your arms. It was the same man.

“Here, lemme help with that,” he said.

“No, you’ve done enough. You don’t have to waste your time with me,” you protested.

He ignored your comment. “You’re visibly exhausted.”

Your son chimed in. “She works really, really hard.”

“See? Even your son agrees. Lemme walk you home,” he said.

You bit your lip, truly not used to receiving such kindness from anyone. It felt nice to have someone showing concern over rolling their eyes at your sorry situation.

“I don’t live that far, I’ll be-”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cut you off. “Oh, right. I ain’t got no manners… name’s Piers.”

“Piers… I’m (name), and this is my son, Elias,” you said, relaxing a little as you started to feel more comfortable.

Then, as if everything clicked in your head, you turned to Piers with a questioning look on your face.

“Wait… you wouldn’t happen to be the Spikemuth gym leader and rockstar, right?” You asked.

Piers had a little smirk on his face. “Yeah, that’d be me, but I ain’t the gym leader no more. My lil’ sis is runnin’ it for me now. I’m a full-time musician now.”

Elias looked at Piers with absolute wonder. “So cool…”

“Oh… I am so out of the loop. Really though, you probably have better things to do than walk me home,” you said, embarrassment lacing your voice.

You suddenly felt self-conscious that a celebrity had helped you pay for your groceries.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m tellin’ you,” he said. “I don’t wanna be nosy or anythin’, but you’re alone, yeah? No boyfriend or husband?”

You nodded, a little embarrassed. You supposed that it was very obvious that you were a single mother.

“You kinda remind me of myself,” he said.

You raised a brow. “How so?”

“Used to be in a similar situation when I was younger, parents were absent an’ I was raisin’ my lil’ sister by myself. Was tough, I remember, an’ nobody ever thought of givin’ a hand to the gutter punk lookin’ guy. Guess I just wanna, I dunno, help out a young woman who’s tryin’ her best, you know?” He explained.

“I- thank you, Piers,” you said with a small blush.

It was nice to talk to someone who could understand you. Most people pointed at you, laughed or disapproved of you. They’d never been in your situation, so they didn’t know just how difficult it could be at times.

“Oh, we’re here,” you said as you came up to your very small house.

You chuckled nervously, that self-conscious feeling resurfacing as you acknowledged the difference between your social status and his. “It’s… I know it’s not very impressive.”

Piers shook his head with a chuckle. “Nah, it looks cozy. You’d be surprised how messy and unimpressive my home is.”

You raised a brow. “Really now?”

“Yeah… Spikemuth really ain’t that impressive, but I love the town anyways.”

“Well, that’s what’s important, huh? Oh, you can drop the bag at my front door, I’ll take it indoors. You too, Elias,” you said as you put your own bag down.

Elias and Piers nodded and did the same. Right afterwards, a friendly growl echoed from your front yard. It was your beloved Drampa, poking his head over the fence.

“Drampy!” Elias exclaimed, running up to the dog-like dragon.

Drampa cooed at your son, nuzzling him affectionately as Elias scratched his nose.

Piers blinked, not expecting you to have a large dragon in your yard. “Is that your Drampa?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, that’s my big boy. He’s my only pokémon, but he’s been with me since I was a child.”

Your son turned to you. “Mummy, can I play with Drampy after I finish my homework?” He asked.

“Of course, sweetheart!” You said, handing your son the key to your home.

Elias smiled and thanked you. As he unlocked the door, he also grabbed a grocery bag to bring it inside.

When Elias was inside, Piers nodded in approval. “Sweet kid. You’ve been raisin’ him well.”

“Thank you, it means a lot,” you said, genuinely happy at the compliment.

You approached your Drampa, who was wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you. As soon as you were near, he gave you sloppy kisses and nuzzled you as if his life depended on it.

“Drampa!” You said with a giggle.

Piers approached you and Drampa as well, but as soon he did, Drampa’s mood immediately turned sour. Your dragon used his head to push you back, growling at Piers.

Piers chuckled nervously at Drampa’s intimidating change in behaviour. You, on the other hand, were shushing and rubbing Drampa soothingly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. This is Piers… he helped me, he’s nice,” you said.

Drampa glanced at you, a worried look flashing through his eyes. His growling had diminished, but he kept a firm glare on Piers.

“Sorry, Piers. He’s always been very protective of me, but that doubled ever since my ex left me when I got pregnant. He saw me at my worst, and he doesn’t want anyone to hurt me again,” you explained.

Piers had a small smile as he waved you off. “Don’t worry, I get it.” He turned to Drampa. “Protectin’ your loved ones like that, I get you. It’s honourable, you’re a good pokémon.”

Drampa huffed, blowing a bit of his breath in Piers’ direction, making him stumble back a little.

“Woah. I heard Drampa’s breaths were strong… guess they weren’t kiddin’,” he muttered.

You laughed as Drampa had a little smirk on his face. “He’s tough. We used to battle together a lot a few years back. I don’t have much time for that anymore, unfortunately.”

“You’d make a good trainer, I’m sure,” he said.

You felt your cheeks burn slightly. Piers was just handing you so many compliments, and he sounded absolutely genuine with every single one of them.

He cleared his throat, a barely noticeable blush making its way onto his cheeks as he reached into his pockets, pulling out what seemed to be two tickets.

“Here. I’ve got a show this weekend in Spikemuth, an’ I’d like to see you an’ your son there…” he paused, scratching the back of his head nervously, “…it might also be an excuse to get to see you so I can get to know you better, ‘cause you’re cute an’ sweet an’ all.”

You couldn’t help the dorky laugh that escaped you as you gratefully accepted the tickets.

“I’d like that. Thank you for everything, Piers,” you said.

He smiled, blush getting deeper as he shrugged. “It’s no prob. I’ll see you there?”

You nodded with a smile as you waved goodbye to him before he headed in the opposite direction of your home.

Your Drampa gave you a questioning look, as if he was saying, “Are you really considering this?” To which you nodded, giving a reassuring pat to the concerned dragon.

Maybe, you finally had a shot at a better life, after all of the hardships that had been thrown at you.

#pokemon imagines #pokemon headcanons #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon piers x reader #pokemon piers #female reader #reader insert #piers x reader #fluff #fanfic #writing

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thehivemindwrites · 4 years

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A Series of Disconnected Thoughts, Cast into the Void in No Particular Order

1. I’ve been finding myself thinking more and more about Kill Six Billion Demons recently. Not just because it’s absolutely gorgeous artwork and Moebius-meets-prog-metal stylings are extremely my shit (KSBD is responsible for adding Gojira to my rotation of workout music, and that alone has me in its debt), but because I can really appreciate a main character who is a walking disaster coming to some kind of enlightenment through a combination of getting her ass handed to her repeatedly, making questionable decisions, and basically just deciding to struggle forwards because I don’t know, what the fuck else is there to do? It’s hardly original (see: basically any shounen about The Power of Friendship and Not Giving Up) but damn if the presentation of it in this particular case isn’t particularly delightful. Plus it gave us the image of a giant hulking demon wearing a jacket that says KILL BOSS and that’s rad.The creator of KSBD is also co-creator, as it happens, of the newly released Lancer TTRPG, which I backed on Kickstarter and will, one day, get a rad fucking hardcover copy of (but for now I’m reading through the pdf and swearing oaths that one day I will play it). Anyway, as someone who also got where he is through a series of questionable decisions and getting his ass handed to him by life in general (oh, and an enormous amount of luck), I can relate. Plus the phrase “Reach heaven through violence,” while kind of terrible on the surface, feels good to shout at yourself while you’re off for a run.

2. Part of this whole exercise thing - a side-effect of it, if you wanna call it that - is that generally I feel better about myself like in general. I’ve mentioned that before. What it doesn’t do, of course, is magically mean that I’m now 100% good and not still dogged by a persistent sense of self-loathing that I’ve just had to accept will never really go away. Like for example: I’ve lost 35 kg since starting this whole gym thing, except you might remember the goal was 40. I still haven’t hit that goal, and frankly I’ve spent the last like three months bouncing around the same like, 3 kg zone because I’ve been traveling a lot and that basically fucks up my workout and eating routine. It’s frustrating, and it sure does let the part of me that knows deep down that I’m a fat fucker and always will be no matter what I do run wild from time to time. Which is, I’m coming to understand, just gonna always be there. This stuff doesn’t go away! Ever!

Which doesn’t mean it’s right, even a little. You tune it out and throw yourself into battle with it over and over again. You get bloodied and broken and claw back and then you get bloodied and broken some more. Insert that gif from Princess Bride of Westly saying LIFE IS PAIN, HIGHNESS here. Thing is, there’s something about the struggle that’s nice. I am not sure how motivated I’d be to do anything if part of it wasn’t motivated by the desire to prove my dumb brain wrong about, uh, me. If I wasn’t fighting the various little demons that plague me every so often, I doubt I’d be so well-adjusted. I certainly wouldn’t be mentally healthy. None of this makes sense as I read it back, of course - it sounds like I’m saying “boy it’s nice to be miserable,” which isn’t true. Being miserable sucks shit! I don’t recommend it! But it is nice to see misery coming and punch it in the face (metaphorically speaking). Sometimes I think the thing that makes me go to the gym and work so hard (this sounds like I’m bragging, but I can assure you I’m not - “work so hard” means “not collapse and fall off the elliptical after five minutes because oh god I don’t want to be here”) is out of some desire for self-annihilation through pushing myself past my physical limits. Reach heaven through violence (see, I told you it sounded cool).

3. The world has gotten really fucking bad for a lot of people, and I don’t know that it will get better for them any time soon. In fact, given the latest talk from the ol’ UN Climate Change report, it’s gonna get even worse. I would very much prefer that were not the case! It’s motivation enough to get out and vote and shit, at least for me - and as someone who is, you know, ridiculously privileged, that’s the absolute least I can do. Which is why I try to do more, mostly involving donating money to causes that seem like they’re able to cause the sort of trouble that needs to be caused. Or just use expertise to protect the people I don’t know how to protect, because I’m a lot of things, and one of them happens to be smart enough to know that I don’t know shit. So I make sure people that do know shit have the money they need. Pretty straightforward, I think.

The other thing I try to do, because giving money isn’t really something I think about much at all (I’m stupidly fucking fortunate to have a job that pays well, remember), is occasionally go out and actually be present at protests and the like - there are a lot of climate protests and they’re all a good time. Occasionally it’s worth overcoming one’s intense social anxiety to do so. Lord knows it’s significantly less of a risk for me to be out shouting at cops than most.

4. She-Ra might be one of the best shows out there. There’s something nice about a show that both does and does not present a simple world. Yes, the Horde is bad. Like, objectively bad! They do a lot of looting and subjugating and are generally just deeply not chill people.On the other hand, the people who make up the Horde are still people, and I have a lot of time for a show that can manage to humanize its Big Bad Villain whilst still making it very clear they are still, you know, not good. It’s messy, and complicated, and sad, because sometimes you have to fight people you used to be friends with! Sometimes you have to make the call that hey, we can’t be friends anymore, because I can’t support the things you’re doing anymore. I’ve made that call before - I bet everyone has, at some point (if you haven’t, I’m sure you’ll have to eventually). Fortunately for me, it’s never been that difficult of a choice, if only because the people I had to go against weren’t people I’d known for very long.

Anyway, that’s part of it - you gotta just cut people out sometimes. There’s more to it though, because the other thing the show believes is that everyone - even the real shitty people - can change. It doesn’t mean everything’s forgiven, and it doesn’t erase all the bad shit, but they can still change. It’s worth changing, even if it isn’t a cure-all.

So yeah, I like She-Ra a lot. It’s also just well-written, and funny, and it’s a real good time to see a bunch of diverse characters running around having adventures and being fuckin’ rad. Plus, they’ve shown an incredible willingness to completely change the stakes from season to season - the end of season four in particular is the equivalent of detonating all the things you thought were important. It pulls a bait and switch so ruthless that I might have applauded if I wasn’t so self-conscious about making noise that my neighbors might hear. The combination of season 3 and 4 was a masterclass on raising the stakes and then explaining that actually, you were playing for stakes even higher than you could’ve thought possible. Oh, and the people you thought you could trust were just using you, and hey, what if we got rid of the thing that you’ve more or less defined yourself by for the entire show? Good luck in season five, motherfucker! I’m a fan, is what I’m saying.

6. Work on Vanquisher 2103 continues apace. I mentioned this before, but we’re doing a once-a-month schedule while the holidays and work beat my ass into the ground, and as it turns out I really enjoy taking a full month to write a chapter. It’s a comically slow pace, but it’s working for me and hopefully the fact that the chapters have tended to be a little longer (and allowed me to expand on ideas a little more, and do a little more research here and there) makes it worth the longer wait. I’d like this thing to be good! There’s a part of my brain, again, that will always insist that nobody reads this and it’s bad and I’m fucking up, constantly - that point, at least, is probably accurate. I am writing characters who in theory have life experiences that are very much Not Mine, which involves a lot of reading things from people who would know better than I do. It’s nerve-wracking, and the only thing I am bone-deep certain of is that I’ll fuck up and hopefully y’all will forgive me for fucking up when that happens. I’ll keep reading and refining and eventually maybe it’ll be okay. Hopefully, anyway.

7. I went to Ireland and guys, Ireland is bullshit. I am offended by its gorgeous cliff-sides and open grasslands and heart-rending beauty. The immense friendliness of the people I met and the fact that you can’t sit in a pub without hearing some dude play a jaunty reel on a tin whistle or accordion or something is a personal insult. I was Arthur Dent angrily demanding to know why this bloody fish is so good the whole time.

I cultivated an immense drinking habit while there. I was also approached by a random German tourist who somehow clocked that I could speak German and we shouted about socialism for an hour auf Deutsch. I met some woman from Louisiana and we ended up having drinks a couple nights in a row to talk about traveling in general and Germany in particular, because her ex-husband is German. There were some Swedish retirees who were both very pleased by their country’s social safety net and also depressingly sour about the fact that refugees got cheap dental care - we might have had some harsh words exchanged before more drinks helped smooth over our frank discussion of differing viewpoints. I had to explain American health care to some people from the UK who were surprisingly gung-ho about the idea of privatized medicine until they talked to me (one of them talked about how the UK used to be an Empire and could be again in such a way that made me want to throw things. We did not talk for very long because I couldn’t fuckin’ handle it). These were strangers that I willingly engaged, because I was having an adventure, and I guarantee none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been going to the gym and committed to the idea of proving the voice in my head that tells me I’m an awkward mess that nobody would ever want to talk to in their life wrong (also, let’s be honest, if I hadn’t had several pints of cider at the time).

By the end of the trip if I heard one more pub singer’s version of Whisky in the Jar though, that I was gonna produce my pistol and fucking shoot myself in the head.

Go to Ireland if you can. If you live there, fuck you how dare you live somewhere that rad.

8. I didn’t have an eighth thing but I’m committed to this “each thing is numbered” bit which means that even the end of this thing has to follow the trope. This is the end of the post where I say “okay bye I’ll be back the next time I get the urge to throw a bunch of highly unpolished ideas out.”

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oh-styles · 6 years

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Such Beautiful Things: I

Yes, I know, I am just as shocked as you are.

It’s a bit shorter than what I would have hoped, but just stop complaining and enjoy what I give you.

Indirect mention of cancer, anxiety and depression.

July 4th, 2016 London, UK

“Harry, for fucks sake…”

At first glance, all you can make out through the harsh glare of the sun peeking through his curtains is the silhouette of a bare bottom a mere few inches from your face, and the faint but budding marks etched across the skin that match your very own fingertips. You first feel the bed shift, and the hustled patters of his feet scampering across the floor with no sense of direction.

“Hey, babe,” his voice is lazy and drawn out, a clear indication to you he’s not been up any longer than you. “Do you have any idea where you threw my pants last night?” You can see him from the corner of your eye, standing stark naked in the middle of his bedroom with a look of complete bewilderment and cowlick standing erect in the middle of his head. “Got quite the arm.”

“Why do you assume it was me?” There’s nothing more you want right now than for this stupid boy to forget his trousers and go back to bed. You’re quite aware of his schedule, and he has no plans till the afternoon where he’d be joining his sister and her friends for lunch, so there is no rhyme or reason why he needs to be up at the crack of dawn for whatever fucking reason he’s mustered up in his mind.

“Well, I wasn’t the one trying to take them off in a hurry.” You can literally hear the smirk in his voice. “Quite impressive, if I can say. Never seen you work that fast before—”

“Please, for the love of God…just shut up.”

So fucking peppy in the morning.

There’s a silence in return, and you hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d decided to spare you the extremely vigorous morning glory that he somehow manages to be without his coffee, and even you can barely hold a conversation with someone before noon.

“Babe?”

“It’s your fucking house, you ballsack—go to your closet and get a new fucking pair if you’re—”

“Babe, I think you’re lying on them.” There’s a gentle poke to your exposed shoulder, and then a second, and by the third you’re flinging the blanket dramatically off your body, and for the second time this morning, you open your eyes to see him standing in front of you, and his soft penis only some mere inches from your face.

“You know I love nothing more than having your flaccid dick in my face first thing in the morning.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me at half seven.”

The man before you, the same man whose balls you had in your mouth only some hours ago, lifts his hands beneath your waist, gently picking you up before snatching his underwear, and plopping you back down on the sheets. There have been worse ways he has woken you up from before the sun has fully graced the horizon, like a beastly snore in the ear or an obnoxious fart, so you know you’re better off with the cards you’ve been given today.

“It’s time to wake up, buttercup – seize the day, and all that.”

“If you say one more word, I am going to seize your face in my fucking pillow—”

It’s a low, breathless chuckle and a grumble of something along the lines of, “Moody li’le thing in the morning,” but you’re caught off guard when a lump of naked flesh falls dramatically down onto the bed, stirring you beneath the sheets. “Gonna wake up for me, love? Gonna stop being a grumpy gills and open your eyes?” He has this way about him, a perfect mixture of just the right amount of compassion and a complete and utter nuisance, that when stirred together just right, is all the fortitude you need to not up and leave him in his bed before his morningwood begins to dig into your thigh. Sometimes you can overlook his obnoxiously jovial early morning glee fest, and it makes days like this that much more tolerable.

“Just another hour, please.” He might be having a nice, joyous afternoon spent with his sister, but your agenda had been worked around specifically for the events that laid ahead.

Events that might have already gone over his head.

“Harry, seriously—”

“Don’t want’ya taking the train—don’t know why you even want to anyway—”

“It’s the only place where I can just sit and think, okay?” You can feel his breath – very much morning breath - hit the back of your ear, and you can almost see the grimace aching behind his eyes, because despite the conversation the two of you shared the night before, you were quick to dodge his attention by a simple rummage around his bedside table for a condom.

You might’ve distracted him last night, but you have his full, devoted attention now.

“You gonna try and stop me, hm? Smuggle me into your gym bag and take me to lunch with Gem and her gal pals?”

“If I have to, yeah.” He’s lying, and you know it; he might be able to place his opinion on somethings, but he has no right to prevent you from your actions…but all he asked from you was to bring some form of protection. “How about you get your pretty, little bum dressed, and I will make us breakf—”

“Eggs on toast?”

You see the small crinkle grace his cheek, and just like that any trace of early morning irritation had all but begun to fade away.

“Eggs on toast…and some apple slices and OJ.” You feel his hands fall under the covers and begin to gently pull away from your very much still warm and comforted body. At the most he could at least have brought you a t-shirt to slip into.

“But I don’t like football” And just like that, he got you back.

It’s amazing what a pair of sunglasses and a face clean of makeup can do.

It’s really not that often you find yourself out in the public eye without much as a curious glance your way, but today, you’re feeling hopeful. You sit in the corner of the train with an iced coffee in one hand, and a random book you snatched from Harry’s bookshelf in the other; you believe if the content doesn’t grab your attention, at least no one might pay you a nosy glimpse.

You listen in to conversations as they come go, and a part of you begins to envy a piece of every stranger who you’ve not given more than a subtle, quick glance to. Every person sharing this car with you have been unknowingly blessed with normalcy; they don’t have to hide themselves in public to avoid unwanted attention. You envy your past self for taking such times for granted, and you begin to panic that maybe your shit disguise is only bringing more attention to yourself.

“Why is she wearing sunglasses—we’re underground?”

“Could she have that book any closer to her face?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so close to her face if she didn’t have those sodding sunglasses on.”

A part of you rolls your eyes at your own remark. You signed up for this, dumbass.

You hear nothing of the sort, but it doesn’t stop that part of you being self-conscious and weary of the possible inquiries. Maybe you should have let Harry drive you—why do you always deny anytime he tries to do something nice and out of his way for you? You’re so selfish.

You think back on breakfast, and how he kissed your cheek before you left, sneaking in a granola bar into your purse in case you got hungry on your ride back, and you feel your heart swell.

“Text me when you get there, okay? You know I worry about yeh.”

Maybe you should stop giving him reasons to worry about you.

I could walk around with a bodyguard strapped to my chest and he would still worry about me.

Then maybe you should invest in that bodyguard for when you travel by yourself in a place where you could easily get spotted?—

SHUT UP.

You sit back, pulling out your headphones from your purse—of course they’re tangled—and you let the passersby quickly fade out into the mellow strumming’s of Landslide. Your mom loves this song, and you quickly swallow away a knot in your throat when you remind yourself that will soon be past tense.

“Fourth of July shirt?” Gemma inquires, smirking through the camera lens of her phone as her brother, with a tightly knit perplexity to his brows, glances down at his shirt.

“What do you me—” Oh.

“Feeling festive for your half-American girlfriend or summat?”

“Summat like that.” Harry admires the stars that adorn his top, and flicks his eyes back up to his sister with a glint in his eyes. What had actually happened, was the top he was supposed to wear today, you had snubbed from his closet the day before, so once you left for the train station earlier that morning, Harry had snatched the first thing he could find from his wardrobe before running out the door. “She said she’ll be back for drinks tonight. Went to see her mum for the afternoon.”

Gemma knows, but she doesn’t pry. A part of her understands all too well these days, so she just lightly nods her head and leans over to grab a slice of pizza.

“Well, she’s always welcome, obviously. I know mum misses her… You two should try and come out for the weekend if you can.”

“Maybe, yeah. Been filming a lot so it’s tough… And she’s doing a lot of festivals this summer. Leeds and Reading here soon.” He shrugs his shoulders with a small pout. “Maybe next weekend. We can take the train up in the morning—that’s if she will even go on a train again after today.”

“Was it bad?” There was an unexplainable tone to her voice that knows the answer well before her brother dares to even say it.

He hums. “Texted me she thought everyone was staring at her.”

“Well, wouldn’t surprise me any! Put that girl on a train and she’s surprised people were staring at her?”

“I asked her if she wanted me to drive up and get her, but she said it was okay—didn’t want to come in between our time today.”

“You know I wouldn’t mind—”

“That’s what I told her, but she persisted. Like she always does. Always persisting.” He takes a quick swig of his drink and runs a hand through his newly chopped hair. “She said she’d call if she changed her mind, but I doubt she will. Just said it to get off the phone.”

“Don’t take it to heart. It’s hard, you know?”

He shares a knowing glance with his sister and gives her a stern nod. Losing someone you loved was hard, but losing a parent surpassed that, and Harry and Gemma were closer everyday to understanding.

It was an hour later when Harry excused himself from the table, and made a quick dart for the door that Gemma caught a quick flash in her brothers eyes that made her stomach sink. For the duration of their lunch, she forced her smiles and faked her laughs, clinging tight to her phone until she felt the buzz that sunk her heart deeper in her chest.

It’s stage 4.

Harry returned some time later, carefully scooting back into his chair and, despite the ache in his gut, he smiled widely at his companions, but Gemma couldn’t look passed the daunting, pained expression forcing to sit and subside in her brother’s eyes. The same expression that screamed that he was in just as much pain as you were in right now.

“Think she is going to stay with her tonight – catch the train tomorrow morning.” He forced a smile in Gemma’s direction, and reached back out to grab his pint. “Might call it an early night for myself.”

When you were smaller, and a scrape to the knee sent you to the floor in tears, there was one woman, who with a single kiss, could take every last bit of pain away. Now, not a single thing in the world could make this better. The pain resonated deep, pulling and tugging at every nerve, and every scratch and stretch and swig only made that little bit of pain rush deeper and deeper until there were mornings every inch of your body pulsed and radiated with such anguish and torment, that not even the sun shining or the birds singing or the small of fresh brewed coffee could pull you from bed.

The pain was different now, but it all felt the same in your skin.

You try to remember every detail now, like how her eyes change colors with the seasons, and how she loves the smell of fresh mown grass, and how she can sit outside for hours on a sunny day with a book and a glass of iced tea, and all would be content in her world. You remember how it feels to hold her hand, and how she falls asleep beside you as you hum along to the Jewel discography playing over her stereo. You remember how she cries when she listens to you sing, her eyes welled up with so much love you feel it’s impossible to feel such a thing.

You remember how warm she feels, and the smell of her perfume, and how she kisses your cheek four times before finally letting go.

You remember how she reminds you to text her when you get back home, just like Harry does. You remember how she watches you walk down the driveway and out of sight from her place in the window, and with every step you take you pray to God that isn’t the last time you see her alive.

But you remember to tell her you love her, and you feel the knot in your throat stumble over your words, because God forbid this be the last time she ever hears you say it.

You pray to God that if you ever bear a child, they never have to succumb to such pain.

Later that day, after you stumbled back up the stairs of your shared home and found yourself crawling back into your sheets, it’s Harry who gently wakes you to share you the current events filtering through every news article.

You didn’t bother with your sunglasses, and that was your first mistake, but such subtle details like that didn’t fall through your mind as you go on your train home that morning. You sat in your corner, book in hand, but stared blankly at the pages as you reminded yourself, again and again, that your time was running up. There was this internal clock ticking, counting down to the day, and whenever that was, the world would stop, all would halt, and you would lose the very last person that you had.

You glance up at Harry, but he tilts his phone closer to your view, and that’s when you see it.

You aren’t surprised, but the shot still makes you sick.

There you are sat, hunched over in your seat, with the palms of your hands placed overtop your face as you weep heavy heaves into the sleeves of your jacket. The snapshot reminds you of the photo that went viral of the bride on the tube in the exact same position as you are, and you nearly stop yourself from laughing.

“It’s because I forgot my sunglasses,” you croak, barely reading over the text that the uploader added. “Did you really wake me up to show me this?”

He stares back down at the image, studying your stance, and without saying another word, locks his phone.

You keep quiet over the topic; it all exhausts you, and as much as Harry wants to protect you and hold your hand through this, he is quietly going through the exact same thing, and you don’t want to add gas to the fire.

But your silence is nothing but a headache to him.

He goes to stand back up, brushing a hand through his hair, and casually walks around to the other end of the bed where he plops himself down beside you, and sidles closer to scoot you nearer.

“Harry, I’m fine, you don’t ha—”

“Shh, will you? Just want to love on you some.” You could lie all you want, and he would let you, but he isn’t going to waste a second of his life ever believing it. “I made some lunch if you’re hungry. I’ll bring you up something if you want to chill here today. That’s okay.”

He placed a soft kiss behind your ear and nuzzled up to your neck, and it’s just like that you remind yourself to remember this love, because some heavy, disastrous storms were approaching, and this was the love that was going to stick with you until the rainbow comes.

#cancer mention #famous series #harry styles imagine #harry styles #one direction imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #one direction fluff #one direction smut #tw cancer

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nubnubblr · 5 years

Text

Day By Day. 6

JIYEON

"What the hell is that?" I frowned at her. Eunji was holding up a pink floral dress with a bedazzled bust.

"You said you wanted girly," she shrugged with an innocent look.

"Girly? Yes. Prom queen? No," I continued to frown.

"Well, you're not exactly helping," she sighed.

"I want something that I'll wear, but, you know, girlier. Something between what you would wear and what I would wear,"

"Why couldn't have just gone through my wardrobe?"

"Because you're too conservative for me,"

"I thought that was the whole point of the date, cover up so you can get to know each other, not sleep together," she raised an eyebrow.

"I can't think right now," I sighed.

"Well, I'm hungry. So, let's get food before we keep up this impossible mission,"

"Fine," I nodded.

INSOO

I sighed sitting on the lounge with my iPad searching for a restaurant. I didn't want something cheap or some take away type of place. But at the same time, I didn't want somewhere that was extremely fancy either. Somewhere in the middle. I'd found two places that I liked but I wasn't sure which one Jiyeon would like more. I would just have to ask Eunji when they got back. I wanted to get Seyong's opinion but seeing as he was being a massive D-Bag, I would just have to bookmark them and wait for Eunji.

"Hey, where's Jiyeon? I thought she'd be making dinner by now," Gunwoo asked.

"She went out with Eunji, she said she's going to bring something home,"

"Went out where?"

"Shopping I think," I shrugged.

JIYEON

"Are you going to eat?" Eunji frowned at me, I wasn't really hungry so I had been moving the food around my plate hoping she wouldn't notice.

"I'm not hungry,"

"Are you nervous?" she joked.

"I think so,"

"Seriously? You don't get nervous, especially when it comes to guys," she frowned.

"I know. But apparently I am, and I don't even understand why? It's just dinner, it's just Insoo, there is literally no reason to be nervous. But here I am freaking out over going on a date with a guy I've slept with a few times," I rambled on as she just sat there smirking at me.

"What?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Have you considered the fact that maybe you're nervous because you might actually like Insoo?" she shrugged.

"I don't like Insoo," I scoffed.

"I think you do,"

"I think you do," I retorted like a mature grown adult.

"We don't really have the same type," she teased.

"You don't have a type,"

"Regardless, I wouldn't like someone that you like,"

"I don't like him," I defended myself.

"Then why don't you save us both the drama and cancel on him?" she challenged.

"It would be rude to cancel now,"

"You're always rude," she retorted bluntly.

"I am not,"

"Why are you being so defensive?"

"Because I don't like him, at least not like that,"

"Okay, before you decide to just live in denial, let's look at the facts for a second. You haven't really slept with anyone else or even attempted to talk to another guy since the day at the gym. You spend most of your free time together or texting. You literally went out at 8 pm the other night to rescue him from another girl. You agree to go on a date with him and now you're so nervous you can't eat. The only thing that is missing is you being jealous, but I'm pretty sure that you experienced a little bit of that at the club last weekend," she stated smugly.

"Who let you go to school?" I sighed sinking into my chair.

"Tell me I'm wrong,"

"I can see how you would think you're right when you put it that way, but I don't like him," I'm not even sure who I was trying to convince anymore.

"Just admit you like him, accept it and move on. It is okay to like a guy you know,"

"Can we just find something for me to wear tomorrow?"

"But I'm still eating,"

"You can eat later,"

"I'm hungry," she pouted.

"So is everyone at home,"

"I'm not the one who decided to go clothes shopping at 4 in the afternoon to buy clothes for a date with a guy I claim I don't like, I was just dragged along," she huffed.

"Let's just go,"

"Just get it," Eunji frowned at my reluctance.

"It's floral,"

"It's pretty,"

"But, it's floral,"

"If you don't get it I'm going home," she threatened.

"If I do get it we're going home anyway,"

"So you're options are either go home empty handed, stay here on your own, or listen to me and buy the pretty outfit that looks amazing on you,"

"But, it's floral," I repeated after a long pause.

"Seriously? You're worse than Kwangmin, at least he listens to me,"

"Because he likes you," I nodded.

"No, he doesn't,"

"Yes, he does,"

"I'll admit he likes me when you admit you like Insoo,"

"Who raised you?" I frowned.

"A stubborn, stubborn woman," she shook her head at me.

"Shut up and help me find my size," I rolled my eyes.

"Finally," she sighed.

INSOO

The girls walked back in the door, Jiyeon saw me and retreated upstairs. I smirked as Eunji brought bags of takeaway and placed them down on the bench. Everyone had been sitting in the lounge room got up instantly and started serving themselves something to eat.

"Hey Eunji, can I get your opinion on something?" I asked before she made her way to the stairs.

"Sure," she nodded. Seyong glared at us as I collected my iPad from the bench and led her into the lounge room.

"So, I was looking for somewhere to take Jiyeon tomorrow and I found two places that I like but I don't know what she'll like better," I said handing her the iPad.

She looked at the first one for a while then tapped the second tab and looked at that for just as long. She frowned puffing out her cheeks as she switched back and forth between the two restaurants. She scrolled down the pages to read some of the information on each restaurant, tilting her head from side to side still frowning, her frowning worried me. Would she hate them both?

"This one," she nodded seemingly satisfied with her answer.

"She'll like this one," she handed me back the iPad.

"Are you sure? You're not just picking the one she'll hate the least?"

"No, I'm sure she'll like this one," she nodded.

"Ah, don't get her flowers, she's not really a flower person," she added.

"I don't want to go empty handed though,"

"She's going to be too nervous to care,"

"Okay, thanks Eunji," I smiled at her.

I stared down at the phone, considering whether I should call and make a reservation or not. I mean obviously I will need to make one, but once I do then everything becomes real. I was second guessing myself, I mean what if everything goes wrong? Or if she cancels? Is this even a good idea? What am I doing? Why did I suggest this?

Because you like her and you want to show her that, why shouldn't you take her out n a nice date instead of a gross bar or dirty club? So what if it goes wrong? At least you tired and if she does cancel then you don't have to worry about things going wrong. You've got this.

I gave myself a pep talk. It didn't really help that much, but I did make the phone call. That was something I guess.

JIYEON

What am I doing?

I stood there staring at the mirror, the girl staring back at me had my face but she was a completely different person. My hair was styled with beach curls, half pinned up the rest left down. I had chosen, with some influence from Eunji, to go with light makeup instead of the heavy eyeliner I normally have on, and nothing I was wearing had any sign of black. For the first time since I started dressing myself, I was wearing pink. Of all the colours I could be wearing. Why pink? And it wasn't even just pink, it as floral and pink. I felt nothing like myself. Why am I going to such lengths? It was just dinner with Insoo.

"You look amazing," Eunji smiled.

"What if it's cold? Maybe I should just go put on some pants?"

"The only pants that you own are black ripped jeans or tight leather pants. Unless you're going to borrow a pair of mine, stop over thinking it. You look great, put on some shoes and go down to Insoo, who has been patiently waiting for the last ten minutes,"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, he's probably worried you've changed your mind,"

"Okay, I'm going," I sighed fiddling with the hem of, what even is this thing? The hem of the floral material.

He was pacing the hallway frowning at the floor, he paused for a second, shook his head, and then continued pacing. He looked good in his dark denim jeans that were being held up with a belt, he wore a leather jacket over his black shirt that was tucked into the front of his pants. why did he get to wear so much black? His dark hair was styled more than usual, it barely moved as he continued to pace.

I made my way down the stairs, he finally saw me and stopped pacing. I don't know if he was surprised or nervous but I've never seen him with that expression before.

"Hi," I rubbed the back of my neck feeling extremely self-conscious and for the first time in a while; exposed and not in a good way. I was so far out of my comfort zone wasn't even sure I knew where it was anymore.

INSOO

I was having trouble finding words; she looked so different that I had to blink a few times to make sure it was actually her. There was not a trace of black on her, instead, she wore white. I'd never seen her so girly; feminine yes, but not girly.

She was standing at the bottom of the stairs biting her bottom lip nervously. I guess she was waiting for me to say something but I could only stare at her in awe. I cleared my throat in an attempt to get my brain to function enough to form words.

"Ah, hi," I finally choked out, good job Insoo.

"Hi," she said again.

"Should we go?" I asked. She nodded.

She frowned when I walked away from the front door and towards the back of the stairs but she followed me anyway. We entered the garage, she nodded when she realized that's where the car was. I opened the door for her and she stared blankly at me, or she tired, but I could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

The car ride was silent and not a comfortable silence either, it was extremely awkward. I wasn't sure if it was because we were nervous or something else but I was slowly starting to regret the idea.

"You look nice by the way, I'm not sure if I said that earlier but you do," I rambled slightly.

"You didn't, but thank you," she was fiddling with the hem of her shorts.

"I was going to get you flowers, but, well, you're you so I didn't," I tried to keep the conversation going.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" she mumbled more to herself than to me.

I sighed not really knowing how to respond and the car fell silent once again, this was a horrible idea. Things are just going to be awkward from now on aren't they? I sighed again pulling into the parking lot, it wasn't hard to find somewhere to park. I turned the car off and quickly got out to open her door.

"Thanks," she nodded getting out and waiting for me to lock the car.

We walked into the building, past the front desk, and into the elevator. I pressed the button for the 8th floor and once again we were silent. Could it get more uncomfortable? She didn't stand too far away from me but she wasn't exactly close either. Was the whole night going to be this awkward?

JIYEON

The hostess escorted us to our table which was by a huge window looking out over the city. I felt so out of place not because of what I was wearing, it seemed to fit the dress code. But because I didn't do things like this; I didn't do dinner or dressing up, or dates. This was so different from what I was used to and I wasn't entirely sure how to act.

Insoo pulled my chair out for me before taking his own, he slid his leather jacket off and hung it on the back of his chair. It was quite warm in here, it had a calm welcoming atmosphere, there was no question that the place itself was nice, it was just different. The waiter came over, introduced himself and gave us our menus before telling us he'd be back after we'd had time to decide on what we wanted.

I didn't know what I wanted, I didn't even know if I was hungry or if I would end up throwing up because of how nervous I was. I read through the menu as more of something to do rather than to actually find something I wanted. What am I doing? I continued reading. I ended up reading the menu five times just to avoid eye contact. The whole time I sat there with my elbow on the table looking down at the menu, chewing on my thumb.

"Do you know what you want?" he asked, my heart sped up, I was surprised he couldn't hear it pounding in my chest.

"Uh, no," I shook my head.

"This is really awkward huh?" he smiled at me.

"Yeah,"

"Well, this was a horrible idea," he sighed to himself.

"No, it's just, different,"

"We should just pretend that we're at the dining table in the dorm, it's just quieter, and larger," he shrugged.

"And fancier, and the food is probably better," I added.

"I highly doubt that," he winked.

"We'll just have to order to find out," I challenged.

"Well find something you want,"

"Oh, right," I laughed.

And just like that, the awkward tension seemed to ease away and we started joking and acting like ourselves.

"Have I told you that you look amazing tonight?" he asked sticking his spoon in the ice cream.

"Do I not look amazing any other day?" I glared playfully.

"Oh, no, you do. You're just exceptionally amazing today," he stammered holding the spoon of ice cream in front of my face.

"Amazing, no, but you've used about 20 other adjectives," I answered his question eating the ice cream off the spoon he was still holding in front of my face.

"Oh," he looked a little embarrassed.

INSOO

I paid the bill taking her hand in mine and directing her to the elevator, it wasn't awkward this time. She stood close to me even though there was no one else in the elevator, and she was smiling, at least when she didn't think I was watching. We reached the lobby and were greeted by a cool breeze, I guess it had gotten colder outside.

I took my jacket that I'd been holding at the time and draped it over her shoulders before re-connecting out hands, we walked together to the parking lot still holding hands.

"Where too now?" she asked as we reached the car.

"Where would you like to go?" I let go of her hand to unlock the car and open her door.

"We could go back to my apartment?" she shrugged, I frowned closing her door and getting into the driver's seat.

"Your apartment?"

"Yeah, well you said you wanted to her to know each other, why not get some Soju and play a few drinking games?" she shrugged, I had a feeling this was the only way she was going to share anything about herself.

"Your apartment and drinking games it is," I nodded.

INSOO

We walked through the little mart, I pushed the cart while Jiyeon started to fill it with things like snacks foods and some other things she needed for her apartment.

"Which ones?" she asked casually, holding up two different packets; Onion Rings and Lays.

"Whichever you like," I shrugged. She thought about it for a minute, nodded, and put them both in the cart.

"Is there anything else you want?"

"No," I shook my head.

With that, we left the mart with three bags of snacks and four bottles of Soju.

I wasn't exactly thrilled that we were going back to her apartment. This is my first time going there and we're going to be drinking which is bound to lead to something else. I should be ecstatic right? What guy wouldn't be?

But I wasn't, I was kind of disappointed. I'd wanted tonight to be about getting to know each other, to be more than just two people who drink and had sex.

"So what kind of drinking games did you have in mind?" I asked putting the bags in the backseat before opening her door.

"I thought we could play 'I Never' that way we can get to know each other without being all serious about it,"

JIYEON

"What's wrong with serious?" he raised an eyebrow as he pulled out of the parking space.

There was nothing wrong with serious, except that it generally meant that you were in fact; getting serious. Serious meant talking and sharing feelings and your past and that was just something I didn't do. I wasn't comfortable with it, I would much prefer to just sleep together.

Of course, I couldn't tell him that so instead I said;

"Nothing, we should just make getting to know each other fun instead of making it a task,"

"Okay," he kept his eyes on the road.

INSOO

"Can you put that on the coffee table?" She handed me a bowl of chips and shot glasses she'd pulled from the cupboard above the sink.

Her apartment was really nice; modern with an open floor plan. So open that the only enclosed rooms were the bathroom and wardrobe, you could even see the bed from the lounge, well you could see everything from the lounge. Funny enough there was no black. I'd expected a lot of dark colours but that wasn't the case at all. It was very light; cream walls, similar coloured carpet, except for the kitchen which had wooden floors.

The decor colour pallet was light greys, whites, and creamy yellows, all the furniture was a light wood except for the lounge which was a white fabric filled with coloured cushions. It was very welcoming, not a lot of clutter just little trinkets and photo frames filled with images of her with either Gunwoo or Eunji, some with both and some just them. There were also a few house plants which I had definitely not expected.

"Sure," I took them and added them to the growing collection of assorted food placed on the lounge room coffee table, there was everything from the snacks we'd brought earlier to the side dishes she'd pulled from the fridge, apparently she cooks when she's bored. Her fridge was full of containers so I guess she gets bored a lot being here on her own.

We sat next to each other on the floor leaning against the lounge, the coffee table in front of us. She'd connected her phone to a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in the room so there was background noise. Was she trying to seduce me?

We played rock-paper-scissors to decide who went first; she won.

"I never... made out with someone of the same sex," she smirked then took a shot; she was definitely trying to seduce me. The smirk disappeared when I also took a shot.

"What? Who?" she stared at me wide-eyed.

"That's not how the game works,"

"Tell me," her smirk re-appeared.

"I'll have to be extremely drunk to tell you that," I laughed, I hadn't meant it to be a challenge but I think she may have taken it that way.

"I never... stole something"

"Does someone's boyfriend count?" she smirked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," I laughed and we both took a shot.

"I never... had a threesome," she was the only one that took a shot this time.

"You've never had a threesome?" she looked surprised.

"Almost but no," I shook my head,

"Wow,"

"I never... broke a bone,"

"That's so PG," she frowned but took a shot anyway, so did I.

"I never... got caught doing it in a public place," we both drunk.

"I like you," she let out a long breath leaning her head on my shoulder. A smile found it's way onto my face.

"I like you too,"

"No, I don't mean like a friend, I mean like more than a friend,"

"I know what you mean,"

"And you like me back?" she tilted her head so she could see my face.

"Yes, I like you back," I nodded. She was red-faced, I'm not sure if it was from blushing or the alcohol but I'll take what I can get.

"I never... got arrested," she perked up, sitting up again leaving my shoulder feeling cold. I took a shot.

"What for?" she asked.

"Seyong, he got into a fight. I helped and got caught," I shrugged.

"Why are you friends with him?" she asked leaning against me again just without her head leaning on my shoulder.

"When we were little, my dad left. Just walked out one day and didn't come home, he stripped the money from the bank account, I mean our mother had a savings account with quite a bit in it but he didn't know about that so it's not like he left knowing we'd be fine. But Seyong, who I'd only recently become friends with, was really there for me and we've been close ever since," I shrugged.

"I never... hated a parent," I said taking a shot.

JIYEON

We both took a shot, he looked down. I guess it was still a sore subject, his father I mean. The mood of the room was just kind of depressing now.

"I never... made out with a friend," we both drank. I was starting to get really tired, I was glad he was sitting next to me, if it wasn't leaning on him I might have fallen by now.

"I never... lied to someone I cared about," he said, we both drank.

"Who did you lie to?" I asked.

"My sister, I told her our dad was coming back, how about you?"

"I lied to Eunji about our mother,"

"Oh?" he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

I don't know if it was because of the alcohol or the fact he'd just shared his past; either way, my mouth started moving before I had the chance to stop it.

"I didn't so much lie, I just didn't tell her the truth,"

"About what?" he frowned, I could have just avoided spilling everything but apparently my mouth felt like talking and my brain was too intoxicated to do anything about it.

"Our parents fought a lot when we were younger, it's one of the reasons Eunji has a fear of conflict. Anyway, they fought a lot and we weren't sure why at least not then. Eunji still doesn't know. But it turns out that our mother wasn't that great a person. Our parents met in high school; high school sweethearts or so everyone thought. Really it had more to do with the fact our father was hopelessly in love with her and she was in love with the fact that he was going to inherit a lot of money, so before he did, she used his feelings for her and latched onto him.

They were engaged, for a long time, she'd never planned on marrying him and she definitely hadn't planned on falling pregnant, especially not with twins. But she did and was too far along to do anything about it except to have us, her parenting skills where something to be questioned. Sure she was fine when our father was around, quite the actress, but the second he wasn't there she no longer pretended to care.

We were left to do everything for ourselves, like cook. We were only six at this point, but she wasn't going to do it. On one occasion Eunji was making Ramyun for herself and picked up the bowl from the counter, just take a second to consider the height difference between a six-year-old Eunji and a full-size counter, so the bowl tipped and she spilt it down the front of herself. She has a scar now that she's extremely self-conscious of. That's why I learnt to cook.

And our mother the two-faced, gold digging, lair, instead of telling our father what really happened, and admitting what she did, she made up some story about Eunji being too impatient to wait until she was served her lunch. But that was just the tip of the iceberg for our darling mother. On our seventh birthday, I caught her cheating on our father with the party planner. I learnt that day that not only was she a cheating gold digger, but she had also never wanted us and tried to convince our father to put us up for adoption.

I guess at some point our father figured out want she was really like because that's what they were always arguing about. Of course, Eunji still sees our mother in a glowing light instead of what she was really like, and I don't plan on telling her differently," I finally stopped talking. I felt so much lighter, I guess I hadn't really vented about it before.

"Wow, so I guess you don't talk to her now?"

"I wouldn't even if I could, they were arguing and not paying attention to the road, they'd crossed into the wrong lane. Our father swerved to avoid oncoming traffic and went right off the bridge into the water. They didn't survive,"

I woke up, Insoo wasn't next to me. I frowned sitting up, his arm was hanging off the end of the lounge. When had he moved there? I could have sworn he got into the bed last night.

I had a sudden flashback of last night, of me telling him everything I hide. Everything no one else knows.

The game was supposed to help me avoid getting serious. Not have me tell him everything. Is that why he moved to the lounge? Did it scare him off? I mean it's a lot of baggage, what if he decided he doesn't like me anymore?

I rubbed my face getting up, instinctively I made my way to the kitchen and started cooking while my brain started to run through all the doubts.

This is why I don't let myself like guys.

INSOO

I yawned stretching. The lounge was more comfortable than I'd expected it to be, the smell of food greeted me. I sat up yawning again. Jiyeon was pacing around the kitchen as she cooked. She'd cooked enough to feed everyone in the dorm but still, she was cooking more. I was kind of surprised she wasn't hungover.

I stood up and made my way over to the table that doubled as a room divider. Sitting down I waited for her to notice, I was going to go up behind her but she seemed off in her own little world and I didn't want to scare her while she was cooking.

"Oh, morning," she mumbled only glancing at me for a second.

"Are you okay?" I frowned, maybe she was hungover.

"U-huh," she nodded avoiding looking at me. Did I do something wrong?

"You've been busy this morning," I commented.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Oh, no,"

"So was the lounge comfortable?" she sounded bitter. Was that what she was mad at? Because I slept on the lounge instead of in the bed?

"Yeah, I mean it wasn't as comfortable as the bed, but I didn't know if you would want some space or not so I figured that I would just sleep on the lounge in case you wanted to be alone," I explained, her face relaxed.

"Oh, you could have stayed," she shrugged.

"I'll remember that next time,"

"Next time?"

"Unless I'm forbidden from coming back to your apartment?" I smirked.

"Let's eat," she turned off the stove top and places plates in front of me. Handing me a set of chopsticks she sat down across from me.

"So, you like me huh?" I smirked,

"Shut up, you idiot and eat your food," she rolled her eyes but her cheeks were turning a light shade of pink and she was fighting a smile that was tugging at the corners of lips.

"Did you cook me breakfast?" I continued to tease.

"Because you like me?"

"I would like you to shut up and eat," she looked directly at her plate, but she let the smirk slip this time.

"Your wish is my command," I smirked.

"You're an idiot,"

#MYNAME #Day By Day #Seyong #Kim Seyong #Insoo #Kang Insoo #Chaejin #JunQ #Gunwoo #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Love Story #Relatable #South Korea #Korea #Idol Group #Idol #Boy Group #Underrated #Chapter Six

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amitojo · 4 years

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I was asleep and now I’m awake (A snapshot of my spiritual awakening)

Sharing a snapshot of my journey of spiritual awakening — When and how it started and what’s the outcome.

November 12, 2012, it was a pleasant Monday evening, around 6 pm — I remember I was at the terrace, walking, talking on the phone and my elder brother came to me. He wanted to invite me for some event that was happening the next day. He didn’t disclose much about it, he just said he wanted me and our parents to be there. I said okay… reluctantly (the only comforting idea being that my parents were also going to be there). Later that night, however, I got to know that our parents weren’t available the next day (wedding season) — Listening to this I also felt like backing out. I anyway didn’t feel like going and now that my parents were also not going, I felt stuck. I did end up going however, for whatever reason, and I am glad I did because had I not gone there, I wouldn’t be where and how I am right now and I love where and how I am right now!

The next day my brother and I got to the venue around 6.45 pm (the event was from 7 pm to 9.30 pm); We parked our car and were walking towards the building, it was an auditorium. There was lots of hustle-bustle around that area — cars dropping people off at the main porch, cars parking, groups of people loitering around, chatting, sharing laughs. Upon climbing the main stairs to the entrance of the building, we were welcomed by a very excited and energetic group of people. They were welcoming everyone with a huge smile and I noticed that and it felt strange. I had never been welcomed like that by strangers — with such enthusiasm!

Anyway, we did the formalities and entered the main hall, there must be about 600 people there. The hall was buzzing with chatter. We navigated our way to some vacant seats towards the end of the auditorium where I sat down casually, leaning back as if I’d gone there for a movie, the only difference being that I was waiting for this to end before it even began.

At 7 pm sharp this gentleman came on stage and welcomed us. He went on to introduce himself and then he said something after which nothing was the same for me.

He made a request. His request was for us to be present that night, for that time. To be present by keeping aside the “little voice” inside our heads. I heard that and I thought to myself, “What? What little voice is he talking about?”. And as soon as I thought that he said, “you must be thinking, ‘What little voice is he talking about?’, That’s exactly one I’m talking about, the one which said this to you”

That’s when I got completely hooked. I sat up straight and I listened to him keenly. I wondered how this random person knew about this little voice of mine; The little voice that, up till that moment, even I wasn’t aware of! I was perplexed and fascinated at the same time.

He went on to describe how we would be/act that night if we don’t keep it aside. He said we would just sit there and make judgements, comments, make remarks about whatever was going to be said or shared. We typically would agree/disagree, state things as right/wrong, judge people’s appearances, their language, their way of speaking, etc etc. The nature of that little voice is usually that, if we let it be.

He then gave us a choice; He said we could either let the little voice do what it does normally and be engaged with it/ourselves OR we can keep it aside, just for a couple of hours, and listen to what was going to be said/shared with intent, outside of our mind.

That’s when I got a taste of this insanely powerful machine (the mind). First, I didn’t know about this voice in my head; then I got aware of its incessant presence, and then finally I was told that we can, by choice, put it aside?! Choose not to listen to it?! WOW! My mind was blown away!

It’s shocking that before that moment, I hadn’t heard this voice in me, maybe I did but I was never aware of it. I thought it was me. I never distinguished myself from it. That is the day I became aware/conscious of this little voice and its nature. That’s the day I distinguished myself from the “little voice” inside my head.

Since then I have been obsessed with studying myself and my mind — how it works, why I do what I do, what makes me, me? etc. Since then, I have been committed to study it, control it, to master it. (it = the mind)

“You either control your mind or it controls you.” Napoleon Hill

Funny thing is, the more I got to know about myself, the more I got to know about others too — How humans, in general, operate, what drives them, etc. — at the end of the day, we all have the same machinery. This altered the way I am with people. I am able to understand better, communicate better, and overall have better relationships.

In retrospect, earlier (before November 12, 2012) it seems as if, my life was running on autopilot. I wasn’t an active participant I would say. Life was happening TO me. I was at the EFFECT of it. I don’t quite remember how I was living my life before that moment, what drove me, why I did what I did, BUT I know how and why of everything that followed.

From that day on, I have taken the driver’s seat. I have started CREATING my life. I am at the source of it, the CAUSE of it, leading my life. From a thermometer, I have become a thermostat. I have taken the responsibility for everything that is happening in my life (how I feel, all the results, every life situation, good and bad). I have started introspecting. I have become aware of myself, my power, my shortcomings, my limiting beliefs, and so on and so forth.

It is an extremely powerful feeling to be responsible for your own life. Because when you’re responsible, you can do something about it. The ball is in your court. Otherwise there will always be an excuse, someone else, something else or some situation to blame. We can either have excuses or results. Not both! And the choice is always ours.

Not to discount anything, it is a journey and it takes time and inner-work to live like this. That day in November 2012 was just the tip of the iceberg but that set me on the journey of self-awareness. Now till 2020, I have attended multiple training programs, read various books, consumed countless videos, and most importantly spent A LOT of time introspecting, analysing myself, my ways of being.

Like everything else we want to be good at, this kind of thinking/living/acting requires practice. We have been conditioned to operate in a certain way. To think and do a certain way. To live a certain way. The longer we’ve lived like that, the longer it takes to rewire the brain. It is a conscious activity to unlearn how one has been operating, unlearning ways of being/living that don’t work for us, unlearning limiting beliefs, and then learn how we want to operate.

You can’t pour in a full cup.

“Empty your cup so that it may be filled; become devoid to gain totality.” Bruce Lee

“What gets us into trouble is not what we don’t know. It’s what we know for sure that just ain’t so.” Mark Twain

Rewiring the brain is like building muscle — you go to the gym, you put in the work to build that. Put in consistent effort. And that’s how one learns this new way of living. First unlearn, then learn.

It has been a heck of a journey for me since that night. I feel like I was born the second time in November, 2012 — Only difference being — I was aware of the birth this time. There is a clear before and after post that night and nothing was the same.

I feel like all the inner-work since then has been compounding and I’m just getting started. I am not saying I know it all now, not at all. I resonate with what Albert Einstein said:

“The more I learn the more I realise how much I don’t know.”

I still continue to learn/unlearn about myself, human beings, and life, in general, each day. There’s A LOT to learn and I’m a life-long learner. I don’t think this learning/unlearning is ever going to stop and I don’t want it to stop. I am committed to growing/expanding myself and getting better each day.

All I can say is I was asleep and now I am awake! 🙂

Thank you for reading this.

** If you wish to know how I keep my "little voice" aside, read this -- 6 Ways I Stay Present In The Moment

I wish you all the power to accomplish whatever you have set your mind to.

Love, Tojo

#spiritual awakening #awakening #awareness #self awareness #consciousness #self mastery #self improvement #know yourself #psychology #power of the mind #manifestation #1111 #1111awakening #philosophy

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years

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Cover You In Oil, Part 1

WordCount: 8496 (I promise this is the only chapter that insanely long. I swear. The other ones average around 3500 words) Tags: @outside-the-government, @yourtropegirl @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 (please let me know if you want to be tagged) Author’s Note: I started writing this fic in July of 2015, shortly after my Mum was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. The idea came to me one day as I was driving to work, so clearly... I knew I had to write it. I love the soulmate trope. As usual - since this isn’t a Star Trek fic and this is a Star Trek blog, let me know if you want to continue to see it or not. Description: Sally Manners has spent her life avoiding the man whose name is etched on the inside of her thigh. Until suddenly she can't. Tony Stark x OFC, Soulmate AU.

Her mother’s soulmark was a beautiful scratchy line of her dad’s script along the side of her foot. It said “You look lost”. A beautiful opening line. Sally’s dad’s soulmark was slightly less romantic, “Not hard to be, in ButtFuck Nowhere”, etched in the large loopy letters of her mom’s hand, just above his collarbone. The romantic notion of the soulmark was not quite so romantic in its gritty reality. This became all the more evident when Sally’s soulmark rose on her skin. It had always been there, a dark, snake-like smudge starting on the outside of her thigh and twisting around her leg before ending just above the inside of her knee. As she got older, and the words finally became visible, Sally realized she would be better hiding out in ‘ButtFuck Nowhere’ with her grandparents, working at the Piggly-Wiggly than ever trying to pursue her passion for anything that might bring her in contact with him. The problem was, her summers spent with Nan and Pops sparked a passion for classic car restoration. And she was damn good at it. It was like it was written in the stars that she was going to eventually meet the man whose actual name was seared on her skin.

Sally had never heard or met anyone whose soulmark actually identified their soulmate. It reeked of arrogance and conceit. It would have been one thing if the damn name had been something common, like John Smith. But even in the days before Wikipedia and Google, Sally had heard of him.

“I’m Iron Man, but I don’t mind if you scream Tony motherfucking Stark when my face is buried between your thighs.” The letters were precise, perfect block letters that almost looked unreal. The first time she’d managed to read all the words, she couldn’t figure out what it meant, but after her first clumsy foray into sexual experimentation, she knew exactly what it meant. And every time she saw it, her cheeks flushed. She never wanted to meet him. She never wanted to hear those words. She never wanted to know what horrified response she would give.

Pops bought the Mustang when she was sixteen, and taught her how to do a complete teardown on it. She rebuilt it from the ground up. The ’65 Shelby Mustang had been rust, congealed oil and regret when Pops towed it into the backyard. Sally had thrown herself into it wholeheartedly, saving up every penny from every summer job she could manage to buy original parts to help restore the car.

“What colour will you paint it, Sal?” Pops asked as her nodded in approval.

“The only colour you can paint it, Pops. Red.” Sally could already see it in her mind’s eye. It took her a whole summer to save for the paint job. On her 18th birthday, Pops handed the pink slip to her, and a photo album documenting the entire job.

“Consider it your resume. You’ll never have a problem getting a job if you drive this car and show off that photo album,” Pops promised.

That was nearly twenty years ago, and the Shelby looked just as good now as it did the day it came back from the paint shop. And Pops had been right. She’d never wanted for work. At her first job, the owner had been a pig. He was more interested in upselling oil changes by trying to convince her to bend over the hoods of cars in shorts than actually seeing what she was capable of. But that job had led to another, with the kind of boss who didn’t care that she was female. Which led to more work. And more work. And eventually an independent contract with one of the best restoration shops in the country, based out of California. Goodbye ButtFuck Nowhere, hello big leagues. Seventeen long, labour intensive years, but she was pulling in six figures, owned a great bungalow with a huge garage and shop, and could pick and choose jobs from a waitlist over three years long.

And if every so often, Sally felt like she was missing out on something because she still hadn’t met her soulmate, she just reminded herself of exactly what kind of man he was by reading a gossip magazine, and the feeling left her. And if every so often, she had an itch she really needed to scratch, well, she lived near Hollywood now, and there was plenty of make-up available to mask that soulmark so whatever erstwhile lover she took wouldn’t spill her secrets. And Tony Stark didn’t seem to be hurting for not having met her, from the looks of things. He was successful, there was the whole superhero thing, and he and that Virginia Potts woman looked awfully close. She must be a saint, Sally thought.

It was a blazing hot Sunday afternoon, and the stereo was cranked as Sally was finishing up on a gorgeous 1970 Dodge Challenger. It was the kind of car that screamed for an appropriate playlist, and Lynyrd Skynyrd was blasting on the stereo. During a break between songs, the unfamiliar staccato of high heels filled the silence in the shop.

“Be right out!” Sally called from under the hood of the car. She twisted the wrench and tightened the bolt on the oil pan. She dropped the tool on the ground with a clang, and pushed herself out from under the car on the dolly.

The woman was tall, and what her mother would have called ‘well put together’, in a tailored cream linen business suit, and nude heels. The look set off the strawberry blonde of her hair and her perfect cheekbones. She looked familiar, but Sally couldn’t place her. She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed a rag to wipe her hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her ragged work coveralls, stained with grease and oil. She was sure she was an absolute sight. She’d been so set on finishing the car to send it for paint that she’d rolled out of bed at six am, pulled her sandy blonde hair into a messy knot on the top of her head, and thrown on whatever clothes were on the floor under her coveralls. The look was disheveled in the extreme, but she had only been expecting the tow company later in the afternoon.

Sally made to extend her hand in greeting and then noticed exactly how filthy she was. The Challenger had been a labour of love similar to her Mustang and she’d been consumed with the need to make it perfect. It was being donated by the owner to a charity fundraising for pancreatic cancer research. The disease had stolen her father from her a few years earlier, and so she was donating her time restoring the car to its former glory in the hopes to bring loads of cash in for the research foundation. She withdrew her hand self-consciously.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting clients today,” Sally apologized. “I’m Sally Manners.”

“Virginia Potts, from –“

“Stark Industries. I’ve read about you,” Sally interrupted. “Way to smash the glass ceiling, Ms. Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper,” she smiled. “This car is stunning. And proves you are exactly the person I am looking for. I have a friend who has the same car. It’s running rough, and needs some body work.”

“Yeah? What colour is his? I’m thinking about purple for this one, just because of the charity,” Sally offered.

“His is red,” Pepper seemed just a little unnerved, and then recovered by gesturing to her cheek. “You have some grease,” she trailed off.

Sally rubbed the rag on her cheek, but suspected she had probably just made the smear worse. “Perks of the job.”

“Anyhow, I understand you have a substantial waitlist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up soon. I’m prepared to make it very worthwhile,” Pepper offered. Sally quirked an eyebrow, wondering if this friend was the man whose name was coiled around her thigh.

“Anyone I’ve heard of?” Sally asked. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If it was for Stark, she could graciously explain her waitlist was just too pressing.

“The archer,” Pepper replied, and pulled a folder out from under her arm. “These are photos of his Challenger. It’s in pretty rough shape, but he loves it. I would be prepared to fly you out to New York all expenses paid to restore the car. I probably could funnel some other work your way. Steve’s just picked up a 1943 Harley that needs some work, and –“

“Can I see the pictures?” Sally waited for Pepper to offer the folder, and then flipped through the file. The Challenger was in rough shape, but it was definitely not a big job. She could probably be in and out in two weeks tops. It wouldn’t be too hard to avoid Tony Stark for two weeks. Would it?

“We have a top of the line garage that you would have access to, and can fully accommodate you in the tower. Meals catered too,” Pepper began.

“Gym? Pool?” Sally was almost teasing, but was curious exactly how much Pepper was willing to offer.

“Of course,” she nodded. “You’ll find our offer for remuneration on the last page.”

Sally flipped past the various photos of the car, and the car’s excessively hot owner and glanced at the last page. Her breath nearly caught. It was half what she made in a year. And she was being offered it for a two-week job. She would be out of her mind to say no, regardless of the potential of encountering Stark.

“This car is going to paint this afternoon. I can be in New York by Thursday,” Sally offered.

“If you can make it Tuesday, I can fly you out on the Stark Industries plane, and save you a commercial flight,” Pepper offered.

“I don’t want to rush this job. I’ll arrange my flight for Thursday.” Sally was not going to risk walking on a plane with Pepper Potts and Tony Stark.

“Nonsense. I’ll arrange your flight. I’ll email you the details tonight. I’m looking forward to working with you, Sally.” To Sally’s complete surprise, Pepper reached out and shook her hand.

Sally woke with a start early Thursday morning. Her nerves had been a little on edge since agreeing to head to New York. She knew she was being paranoid, but she felt like the skin of her soulmark was itchy, almost burning. And she kept imagining scenario after scenario where she encountered Tony Stark and blurted out some weird and obscure comment that could clue him in to her significance. She’d agonized over packing. Was that outfit too revealing? Would this one catch his eye? The more insignificant she appeared, the better the two weeks would run. She’d even packed her coverage cream just in case, so that her soulmark would be covered at all times, away from prying eyes.

She rolled over and checked her phone. It was only four a.m., but she got up. The sun was rising and the morning was already warm. She pulled on her gear to head out on a run. The run was invigorating and the exact stress release she needed. The nervousness dissipated and by the time she was in the shower, she was eagerly anticipating working on the Dodge.

She settled into her seat on the plane and flipped open the folder of photos that Pepper had given her, to really look into the lines of the car. She’d contacted a shop early in the week and had ordered some parts to be fabricated and sent to Stark Tower to Pepper’s attention. Again, she thanked whatever cosmic intervention had allowed her to be completing the charity Challenger when Pepper contacted her, as it was a small matter to have the same pieces fabricated again, and an order for any others on standby in case the car was in worse shape than she could tell from the photos. Pepper had texted her as she was boarding the plane that they’d been dropped off.

“I’ll have them delivered to the garage for you. Is there anything else you need before you turn your phone off?”

“I’m keen to get started this afternoon. Maybe a pizza? Six-pack of beer?” The last time Sally had been in New York, she’d learned a whole new appreciation for pizza.

“Preferences?”

“Surprise me.” Sally figured Pepper knew beers and pizza. Tony Stark had a well-documented propensity for spending days on end in his lab. Pepper probably knew the best place for every type of take out available.

Flying first class was nothing new to Sally, but she appreciated that Pepper had upgraded the hell out of her when the flight attendance brought her a drink menu. The nerves had been slowly returning since she’d boarded the plane. One drink would relax her just enough that she’d probably nap for the rest of the flight and make it to New York feeling ready to tear down Hawkeye’s Challenger.

“Vodka, please,” Sally requested, handing back the list.

“Ice?” He asked.

“Please.” Sally preferred her vodka neat, but when traveling took ice just for the sake of hydration. She settled back into her seat and put on her headphones. The plane was Wi-Fi enabled, so as she sipped her drink, she worked on the schematic for the car. Eventually, the early morning and vodka combined to make her eyes heavy and she drifted off to sleep, iPad still in her lap. The chime of the overhead system to warn passengers it was time to fasten seatbelts for landing wakened her with a start, and she started momentarily when her iPad was no longer on her lap. The flight attendant walked by and handed to her before she could actually panic.

“You dropped it when you fell asleep,” he explained as he passed it to her.

“Thanks.” She pulled her shoulder bag from the storage compartment by her knees and slipped the iPad and headphones away.

Pepper said there would be a driver waiting for her, and she had to smile when she saw the tablet with her name on it being held up. Of course a Stark Industries employee would use a tablet. The paper sign was apparently out of fashion. She smiled wider when she realized who was picking her up.

“Sally Manners?” He asked. Sally nodded.

“You’re Clint, aren’t you? It’s your car I’m here for?” Sally asked. Clint nodded.

“Yeah, I thought I could get a feel for you on the drive. See what you think and find out what you want to do to her,” he admitted.

“Sure. I have a full set of schematics on my iPad,” Sally offered.

“And iPad? Tony’ll be pissed,” Clint laughed. “Stark Tablets are standard at SI.”

“I’m on contract,” Sally shrugged. “What Stark doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Sure,” Clint laughed and led her out into the warm afternoon. Sally was half expecting him to usher her to the Challenger, which was a little concerning as the photos Pepper had provided made her think it was of questionable road-worthiness. It was with some relief that she found herself climbing into a Jeep Cherokee.

“So tell me about the car, Clint,” Sally asked once they were in traffic.

“Cherry’s great. Except when she isn’t. She needs a big chunk of work,” he began. “In my line of work, she gets beat up a lot.”

“Well, I can’t work miracles. Once I restore the car, you need to care for the car, or we’ll be back at square one again,” Sally explained.

“Yeah, I know. I’m hoping that once she’s looking good, I won’t be so tempted to take her out on jobs,” Clint shrugged.

“You want to stay with the red? I just did purple, it suits the car,” Sally offered. Clint’s face crunched up in thought. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking very thoughtful.

“I like purple a lot. But her name is Cherry.” He was thinking out loud.

“No hurry. Let me know before I send her for paint, and we’ll call it fair.” Sally made a few notes on the iPad and fell silent, waiting for more of Clint’s questions. None came. They pulled into the underground parking at Stark Tower and Clint parked in the company car corral. He grabbed her bags and led her toward the elevator.

“Do you want to see the car first, or your room?” Clint asked as the elevator doors closed.

“If you know where my room is, let’s drop my bags and then head to the garage. I want to get started on the teardown on your car today,” Sally decided. Clint smiled broadly and clapped her on the back.

“Pepper said you’re the best.” Clint punched the button and then turned to look at her, settling against the elevator wall and slouching a little. She’d read he was a master marksman, and she could see it in the way he looked at her. A thousand-yard stare that took in everything. He could probably tell her how many grey hairs were hidden in the sun-bleached streaks in her hair. She hoped he’d be discrete enough not to mention the crow’s feet. “You’re older than you look.” Or maybe he wouldn’t be.

“Uh, thanks?” Sally wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be affronted.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I meant that you look good for a woman your –“ He stumbled over his words.

“That’s probably worse, Clint,” Sally cut him off. Clint shook his hand and looked at his feet. His hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck and he sighed.

“This would be the part where I tell you that I’m usually charming enough that women don’t notice these things,” Clint chuckled. Sally couldn’t help herself. She laughed. He was looking up at her through his eyelashes, like a poor wounded puppy dog. It was adorable. And kind of sexy.

“Oh my god, are you flirting with me?” Sally started laughing in earnest. Clint had the decency to blush a little.

“Maybe?” He shrugged. “I mean, I feel as though I owe you. Coming to fix my car and all. And then you get off the plane with that long-legged surfer girl look. But you know cars. Can you blame me for thinking these thoughts?” He pushed up from the elevator wall and stepped toward her. Sally held her ground, both amused and mortified. Any other guy, and she would be all over him. He was hot. His arms alone should require a permit, but then he was hot too. He had that beat-up tough guy look that she’d always been drawn to, and a look like he just didn’t really care. He was wearing a threadbare white t-shirt and faded jeans that were snug to his thighs. The tousled blond hair was what really sealed it for her. She would be all over him. If he were any other guy. But not when he was colleagues with Tony Stark. She put her hand up to stop him.

“Whoa, Tiger. I’m flattered, but –“

“Shit. Did I read you wrong? I got the impression you were single.” He didn’t quite apologize. Sally wouldn’t have respected him if he had.

“I am,” she nodded. He took a step back.

“I don’t usually get this wrong,” he mumbled.

“You aren’t wrong,” Sally admitted.

“Wrong timing then?” He asked, standing up straight again.

“Something like that?” Sally wasn’t about to whip down her jeans and show him why she was hesitant. “It’s just, I’m fixing your car, Clint. I don’t want to feel like I’m being paid in ass. Even a nice little handful like yours.”

“Maybe next time I wreck it then. I’ll seduce you so you won’t kill me when you find out I need to hire you again,” he laughed. Sally joined him. As the elevator opened, Clint suddenly stopped laughing. “Wait, you think my ass is nice?”

“Ah, Clint. I see you managed to pick up Sally,” Pepper was struggling to keep a giggle contained. Sally burst out laughing again and stepped off the elevator.

“Not quite. She shot me down,” Clint grumbled as he followed Sally, carrying her bag. Sally could hear the peals of laughter escaping Pepper as the elevator door closed.

“The garage is huge, Sally. You’ll love it. At least, I think you will. Tony has all the toys. And by toys I mean cars and the tools to work on them. And wait till you get eyes on Steve’s new Harley. It’s a fuckin’ beaut.” Clint had taken the rejection well, rolling right back into buddy mode with Sally on the elevator ride down to the garage. Sally found herself relaxing against the elevator wall with him and enjoying the chatter.

“Pepper mentioned it. She said it needs work too,” she nodded.

“Oh hell, Steve says he can manage the restoration himself, but I bet he’d secretly be relieved to have the help. You should take a peek at it. Maybe your fancy schematics app would change his mind about the solo job.” Clint had loved the app she’d used to do all the rendering on the car restoration. He kept swiping through the images and making happy noises.

“Let me get your car finished first. I have a big waitlist at home right now,” Sally laughed. Clint let them into the garage, past what appeared to be several million dollars worth of classic vehicles. Sally stopped in her tracks in front of a 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster. “Jesus Christ,” she breathed. “That’s fucking unreal.”

“Tony restored that himself,” Clint offered.

“Then why the fuck did Pepper hire me?” Sally wondered out loud.

“Tony takes forever,” Clint replied. “There’s my Cherry.” He pointed a few cars down to the beat up Challenger. It was in sad shape, and Sally almost felt it didn’t deserve to share space with the Roadster. Yet, anyhow, she thought. In two weeks time though, Tony Stark would probably be begging Clint to buy it. She walked around the Dodge, tracing her hand along the contours of the hood. She peered inside and nodded to herself, making a mental checklist of parts and supplies.

“I had some stuff delivered. Any idea where it’s at?” Sally asked. Clint nodded his head toward a backlit shelving unit behind the car. There was a pile of boxes on it. Sally dug through the box, unwrapping various parts as Clint looked on. She reconciled the pick slip against the parts and let out a low curse.

“What’s wrong?” Clint was immediately beside her.

“There’s no coveralls in this box,” Sally complained. “I wasn’t about to pack the greasy coveralls from my shop, so I ordered a new pair. They aren’t here. I’ll have to call. It’s not a big deal, but it slows me down.”

“Lemme grab a pair of Tony’s for you until your arrive,” Clint headed to the lockers at the far end of the garage. Sally followed.

“Just guessing, but is this your best birthday present ever, Clint?” Sally teased. Clint stopped, his hand on a pair of grey coveralls. He turned slowly with a slight smile on his face.

“Kinda, yeah,” he admitted. “So you’ll excuse that I insist that you start working right away.” He slapped the coveralls against her chest and nodded behind him. “There’s a can around the corner where you can change.”

Sally laughed. “Get out. Just make sure I get my pizza and beer in the next couple hours.”

It stood to reason that Stark was built like a man. Sally was built like a woman. It took a bit of wriggling and jumping up and down and cursing to shimmy his coveralls over her curvy ass. She finally got them hitched up to her waist, and tried pulling the sleeves up, to discover that while the shoulders were broad, she was never going to be able to close the suit over her bust. She huffed out a sigh of disgust and dropped the top back down to her waist and tied the sleeves around her. She pulled her shirt off and tossed it beside her pants, grateful that she’d worn the ribbed white tank under her blouse.

Sally pulled her hair back into a sloppy braid and went rummaging through the wall of tools, pulling what she knew she would need to tear down the Challenger to the frame. She pulled a white paint marker out of her box of supplies and set everything down on the bench nearest the Challenger. She dropped her iPod on the bench, put her wireless headphones on and started taking the car apart labeling each part by what it was, and whether it needed replacing, repair, cleaning, machining, remachining. The music was loud and she was lost in her work, and didn’t notice time passing in the windowless, brightly lit garage. Her head bopped along to the beat of the song in her headphones. She’d decided to just recycle the same playlist as she’d used for the charity Challenger, and an AC/DC song started as she rolled herself under the car to drain the oil from the engine. She felt the vibration of someone banging on the frame of the car, but the music was so loud that she didn’t hear if anything had been said. Once she had the oil draining into a bucket, she rolled herself out from under the car. Clint pointed at the box of pizza he’d left on her bench and handed her a beer. Sally pulled off her headphones and smiled.

“Is it food time already? Thanks,” she offered, taking the bottle and clinking it against his.

“You’ve been down here for about four hours,” Clint laughed. He quirked an eyebrow at her get up. “That’s, uh, quite the look. I know we’ve settled that we’re not happening, but that’s a, well. Damn. You look hot.”

“I look like I belong in a spank bank calendar,” Sally snarked. Clint laughed even harder.

“Well, when you put it that way –“

“We only met today. There is no need for you to overshare,” Sally interrupted, joining in Clint’s laughter.

“No, I’m just saying, I never thought chick-in-too-small-coveralls would be a kink of mine, but if you change your mind, you can get JARVIS to let me know. I can be down here in a heartbeat,” Clint winked. He finished his beer and dropped the empty in the recycling. “I’ll let you have a break in peace. Tony gets pissy when people are constantly in his space. From what I’ve seen you’re a genius too.”

“What’s that mean? That I’m pissy?” Sally laughed. She liked Clint. He was easy to like. He laughed again and winked.

“Nah, more that I’ve seen your portfolio and what you can do with a car is every bit as impressive as what he does with robotics. So maybe you need privacy to work too,” Clint explained.

“Not gonna lie, I do work better alone,” Sally agreed. “But I appreciate the food, and the company on my break.”

“I’ll try not to bug you too much,” Clint promised as he headed back toward the elevator. Sally finished up her pizza and washed her hands before getting back to work. She wanted to lift the engine before she went to bed, which meant releasing all the bolts holding it. Which was how she found herself bent halfway into the engine, one foot on the bumper, oblivious to everything around her. When the playlist had ended, she knew she’d been working for a solid six hours, and it was time to break. She just needed to remove the one last bolt and she could lift the engine before making her way back to her room and taking a long hot shower.

“JARVIS, I’m pretty sure I didn’t sign a release for a music video to be shot in here, did I?” Sally overheard the words and cringed. The coveralls were backordered, but by the time the shop had finally texted her about it, it was too late to get a pair from somewhere else before closing. She would have them by morning, they’d assured her. She finally broke the bolt loose from the engine and stepped down off the car, not even acknowledging the man walking across the garage toward her.

“I’m afraid I have no record of that either, sir,” A crisp British accent came over some sort of overhead speaker. Sally sucked in her breath, determined to ignore everything she possibly could until it would be rude to not respond. She was hooking up the engine crane when she heard him.

“And yet, there is a woman in a wife beater and a pair of my,” his voice rose in question, “coveralls, taking apart Barton’s car. It can’t be real.”

“I assure you, Sir, the biometrics on the woman in question are very real,” the voice in ceiling responded. Sally glared at the speaker and began hoisting the engine out of the car. They were talking like she wasn’t even there. “I believe this is the mechanic Ms. Potts hired.”

“Of course. Thanks JARVIS,” he replied. He cleared his throat and stepped between Sally and the engine crane and the dolly she was trying to put it on.

“I’m IronMan, but I don’t mind if you scream Tony motherfucking Stark when my face is buried between your thighs.” His smirk was enough that Sally had to resist screaming and trying to drop the engine on him. She almost laughed at the thought of what that would show up as in a soulmark - “arrrrgh *splat*”? Then she realized he was staring at her, as though waiting for a response. She turned away and sighed, and in that split second decided not to say anything. He would never know she was his soulmate if she never spoke to him. Because soulmarks didn’t say things like “she’s not going to say a word, but instead will sigh and roll her eyes at you”, they say actual words.

Sally turned back and found that he’d already stepped away from the engine dolly, and was leaning against the Challenger, staring at her. For one brief, fleeting moment, she thought maybe she’d stunned him into silence, and started lowering the engine onto the dolly. And then he started talking again.

“I get it. You’re overwhelmed because you didn’t think you were actually going to meet me, and are unsure what to say. And maybe my opening line was too much? I get it; Pepper is always at me about not sexually harassing the staff. I should apologize, but honestly, this is just too perfect, and it’s like Christmas and my birthday and Clint’s special car mechanic rolled into one magic little bundle.” He spoke with his hands a little, Sally noticed. “Pep didn’t mention you were a woman. JARVIS, why didn’t Pepper say the mechanic was a girl?”

“Ms. Potts felt you would be too easily distracted, and that would prove to be an irritant for Ms. Manners,” The voice that kept coming from the ceiling responded. Clint had mentioned this JARVIS guy too, Sally realized. She was going to have to ask him or Pepper who he was. She finished securing the engine to the dolly, and tidied up her workspace, before grabbing her iPod, the remains of the pizza, and a couple more bottles of beer, and heading to the elevator.

“Pepper was not wrong,” Stark admitted, watching as Sally disappeared behind the elevator doors.

Sally didn’t realize she’d be very nearly holding her breath until the air rushed out of her lungs after the elevator doors shut.

Sally was checking email when a text notification popped up on her iPad.

“Settling in okay? Tony mentioned he met you. I feel as though I need to apologize, despite not knowing why.” Pepper was checking in.

“The car is amazing. It’s in much worse shape than I thought it was in, but I love a challenge.” Sally typed back.

“Do you need me to get anything?”

“I had to borrow coveralls today because mine are on backorder. If they don’t arrive tomorrow, I may need you to contact your supplier for me because the ones I had on today did not fit.” Sally admitted.

“Yes. JARVIS told me that Tony had been inappropriate with you. I’ve given up apologizing for his behaviour. He’s gotten reckless in the last few years. More reckless, anyhow. But JARVIS said he was a little more colourful than usual.” It was probably the longest text Pepper had sent her, and Sally almost wanted to ask her what the reason was behind the behaviour. But then she realized Pepper had mentioned that JARVIS guy twice.

“Yeah, who is JARVIS, by the way?”

“JARVIS is an artificial intelligence developed by Tony. He monitors security, takes care of Tony, passively monitors general biometric information, amongst other things. Like a super computer but with a personality.” Pepper tried to explain. Sally gave her iPad a disbelieving look and glanced up at the ceiling.

“Okay.” She couldn’t really think of what else to say.

“Ms. Manners, Ms. Potts feels you may be uncomfortable with my presence. I would like to assure you that in any private spaces in the tower, my default is set to private. I will not record or monitor anything in your personal space while you are here. There is voice activation of my protocol if you call for me only. If you have any questions, please just say my name, and my monitoring and interactive protocol will be enabled.” JARVIS’s voice came out of the ceiling.

“I have some questions. You were monitoring me today in the garage,” Sally started.

“Yes, Ms. Manners. Mr. Stark has the only privacy override for the garage, as the value of the vehicles stored in the garage demands it,” he explained.

“Fair enough,” Sally replied. “Is it rude for me to ask about you?”

“I have no qualms about your curiosity, Ms. Manners,” JARVIS sounded indifferent.

“Could you call me Sally? I would prefer Sally,” she began. “Do you have emotions?”

“I am not comfortable with the informality of using first names, as I have no first name to offer in return, Ms. Manners. As for your other question, I am not sure how emotions feel to humans, but on referring to the dictionary definition of those things, I would say that I feel some sort of echo of emotion about a number of things.” At the very least, JARVIS was thoughtful, Sally reflected.

“So do you worry? I mean, when Mr. Stark is out being IronMan?” Sally asked.

“I accompany Mr. Stark every time he is in the IronMan suit, so I don’t have the worry that is born from not knowing. I do worry about him a great deal. I worry that he is unhappy. I worry that he is lonely. But I rarely am fussed by his work as IronMan,” JARVIS admitted.

“You worry about him being lonely?” Sally was surprised. Tony Stark didn’t seem like the kind of man who got lonely.

“Men of his age, when they are still awaiting their soulmates, tend to get rather reckless. It’s not part of the natural order for someone with a soulmark to wait so long, I don’t think,” JARVIS offered. Sally almost felt guilty. And yet, it was the first time she’d ever met Tony Stark. So it’s not as though she was deliberately thwarting him for years. Just for a few hours.

Soulmates did get reckless the longer they waited. There was millions of dollars in research dedicated to understanding the impact of soulmarks on their bearers, and all of it pointed to how difficult life became the longer a person waited for their soulmate. Sally knew all about it, it was one of her pet interests. She read every new research paper as soon as they were released. Mostly because she was so determined to never be involved with someone like Tony Stark. The first time she’d had the ability to put his name into a search engine, years before Google existed, the man she saw horrified her. Reckless, arrogant, rich boy with a drinking problem. Too smart for his own good and not doing anything good with his smarts. She followed him carefully as the internet made access to information lightning fast, and by the time Google was a thing, Sally had seen some definite changes in Stark’s behaviour, but her opinion had been formed and solidified over years of net browsing. And there were still plenty of indicators that he was a hot mess.

“I feel like I’m being nosy by asking, but he does have a soulmark?” Sally had heard of people who didn’t have soulmarks. She had never met one, but she’d read about them.

“Perhaps it is too invasive a question, Ms. Manners,” JARVIS acknowledged. Sally pursed her lips, wondering what it was that she would eventually say to him. It was probably rude. She’d spent time around mechanics for over twenty years. Some things just wore off on you after a while. Her language was just as foul as anyone she’d ever worked with.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Manners.” JARVIS fell silent, and Sally assumed their conversation was over.

Sally was down in the garage by six am, finishing the teardown on the car. She’d unpacked her Bluetooth speaker and had it perched on the chassis while she pulled the rest of the engine components out. Once again, she didn’t hear anyone come in, but Clint managed to stealth up behind her and scare the crap out of her around nine am. He placed a Starbucks on the bench and dropped a package beside it before handing her a bagel

“Master marksman and courier? How do you keep the ladies away?” Sally teased. Clint rolled his eyes.

“Pepper said you needed these coveralls right away.” He looked her over and smirked. “I don’t know, I really like the pin-up look.”

“Fuck off,” Sally laughed and threw her wadded up napkin at him. “She speaks!” Stark had apparently also stealthed into the garage at some point. Sally pursed her lips and darted past Clint to the bag on the bench before Stark could get to the car.

“I’m gonna go get changed, Clint. See you later?” She didn’t even wait for a response, but briskly moved toward the bathroom in the back of the garage without even acknowledging Stark’s presence.

“What’s with her?” She overhead Stark asking Clint. “Yesterday she gave me a dirty look and walked away, and now she’s not even willing to give me a dirty look?”

“Should you remember her, maybe?” Clint drawled. Sally could imagine there was a dirty gesture that accompanied the question.

“Oh shit. Maybe. JARVIS, have I banged the mechanic?” Stark’s voice echoed through the garage, and Sally had to bite back a shout of protest.

“From what I can see of her history, Ms. Manners has never been in the same vicinity as you until yesterday, sir.” JARVIS’s voice replied.

“Are you kidding me? The snotty mechanic who won’t say a word to me is literally named Miss Manners? That’s got to be a fucking joke,” Stark exclaimed.

“Maybe she’s just not into you. She turned me down. Maybe she likes privacy. Neither of us could give that to her. Maybe she likes women.” Clint had clearly not been offended by her rejection, and sounded serene.

“Barton, women are always turning you down. It’s the bow. This just doesn’t happen to me. Maybe she is into women. One way to find out,” Stark commented.

“Nat’s gonna kill you, Tony,” Clint laughed. Sally peered around the corner to see if they were leaving her work area, and sure enough, Clint was steering Tony back to the front of the garage, chatting about something she couldn’t quite hear. She would have to thank Clint next time he popped in to check on his car. She rolled her eyes and walked back to the car, taking a pull from her coffee. The distraction of Stark and her new coveralls had allowed it to cool to a temperature she was easily able to drink. One more thing to thank Clint for. It didn’t take long for her to get lost in the music as she got back to work.

“Bacon, chicken, feta and peppers? That’s quite a pizza.” A female voice interrupted her work. Sally smirked and looked up. Sure enough, it was the stunning redhead that had testified before Congress.

“How much to you want to fuck with Tony Stark’s head?” Sally asked as she accepted the pizza box.

“I love messing with Tony,” the redhead answered.

“He thinks I turned down Clint and won’t speak to him because I am into women,” Sally began.

“Say no more. I’ll tell him you were magnificent,” she laughed. “I’m Natasha, by the way.”

“Sally. Nice to meet you,” she offered her hand and returned Natasha’s warm smile. “Your testimony after the whole SHIELD thing was compelling. It must be hard, keeping all those secrets. I only have one, and I don’t know how I’ve kept it quiet for as long as I have.”

“Part of the training, I guess. I can keep a secret. But I can’t change the oil on my car,” Natasha winked. “Must be one helluva secret.”

“I know who my soulmate is.” Sally heard herself blurt it out. “His name is in my soulmark.”

Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is a big one. I bet you’ve googled that a few times.”

“Once a week since search engines were invented,” Sally admitted.

“Is he anyone of note?” Natasha pressed. Sally nodded as she bit into a slice of pizza. “I won’t press then. If you ever need me to grab him and bring him to you just to get things over with, let me know.” Sally just laughed in response. She leaned against the car and allowed the conversation to flow as she ate. Natasha finally succumbed to curiosity and tried a slice of pizza.

“This almost qualifies as healthy, Sally,” she commented through a mouthful.

“That’s why I like it. I need quick and easy when I’m in a teardown because I like to go until I’m done. But I don’t want to sacrifice my health too much. I can convince myself this is healthy because there’s real meat on it, not just tube meat, and some veg,” Sally laughed. “I usually tack an extra mile on my run during teardowns as well. Just to cover my pizza habit.”

Natasha’s phone buzzed and she rolled her eyes. “I should probably go report on your incredible romantic prowess before he comes down here and finds up eating pizza.”

“He’ll check the footage as soon as you say it anyhow. But try to get a picture of the look on his face,” Sally smirked. Natasha nodded and headed down the garage. She stopped by the Roadster and called back.

“Is he the one?”

“Do you really think I’d tell you if he was?” Sally called back. She probably should be more surprised that Natasha had figured it out, but she wasn’t. She cleared away her lunch mess and pulled out a basin. There were a pile of parts that were in questionable shape, and Sally needed them clean before she could figure out if they were going to need to be ordered or machined, so she slopped some cleaner in the basin and dropped the parts to soak while she cleaned the engine. She was covered in grime in minutes, and grateful for the amazing bounty of the tool selection in the garage as she made a bigger and bigger mess. Her speaker cut out midway through a Journey song, so she pushed herself up from the floor to check the battery.

Stark was holding the speaker in her hand.

“This isn’t StarkTech. Neither is the iPod. All SI employees are to be provided with StarkTech,” he leveled an annoyed look at her. Sally rolled her eyes, and snatched the speaker away from him. It was going to be hard not saying anything to him, if he was going to be that annoying. She walked over to the soak basin and put the speaker down near it before getting a bottlebrush to ream out one of the parts. “After Natasha came back from lunch, I knew something was up. So I had Jarvis pull your file. You aren’t gay. You could be bi, I suppose, but there’s no record of you ever having a female lover, so I doubt it. And you have a plentiful dating history. No serious romances. I thought maybe it’s just me. Maybe you just don’t like me.”

Sally smirked and met his gaze. She had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from speaking.

“And see, that’s where this gets weird. I thought maybe you’re like me, getting reckless because you haven’t found your mate yet. But you’ve kind of always been devil may care. So then I thought that maybe you don’t have a soulmark. But JARVIS kindly pointed out this photo,” he held a picture up that showed just the last word below the hem of a skirt, and thankfully no more. “That is definitely a soulmark. So you’re kind of an enigma. Why won’t you talk to me? How can you already hate me if you don’t even know me? Don’t answer that, I blame Google entirely. I should buy Google and force it to black out any unflattering media about me. Shit. There might not be much media about me at all then. Anyhow. You’ve been here less than 24 hours and you’ve driven me to searching out your personal information, having JARVIS scan the internet for photos of you, pulling your IRS file and other degrading acts. You’re making me crazy. You won’t speak to me, and you will speak to Clint, and you will speak to Nat. I could parade every person on the team down here just to justify my paranoia, but amazingly, I really do think this is actually all about me. Which makes me think maybe you’re biting your tongue because you want me and you don’t want me to think you’re an easy mark.”

Sally was getting dizzy trying to follow him. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her water bottle, drinking deeply from it.

“If that’s what’s stopping you, sunshine, let me assure you. I won’t think any less of you for coming back to my bed with me. Or just throwing down right here. I can have JARVIS give us privacy. Or not. I’m equal opportunity. Embrace your sexuality. Enjoy your inner freak. I won’t judge. We’ve all been there. Hell, if you want a threesome, I’m down. But for god’s sake woman, just say something to me,” he blurted. Sally choked on her water, hacking and coughing and hoping it wouldn’t come out her nose.

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” she coughed. Stark’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Did Pepper pay you to say that?” He breathed. Sally realized she’d spoken and dropped the water bottle.

“Oh shit,” she breathed.

“Are you fucking with me?” Stark demanded. Sally stared at him blankly, lost in the horror of what she’d done. She supposed it was stupid to assume she would be able to keep her mouth shut for two weeks, but she’d expected she would have more than twenty-four hours to get used to the idea of Tony Stark. Before she knew what was happening, Stark was pulling up his shirtsleeve. Wrapped around his bicep, in a trailing twist around his arm that was similar to the path of the words on her leg, were the words she’d just coughed, in her familiar, cramped scrawl. “Is this your writing?”

Sally couldn’t respond. She back up to the wall and slid down it to the floor, dropping her head between her knees and breathing deeply. “Oh god, oh shit.”

Tony’s arm was suddenly right in her face. “Is this your writing?” Each word was punctuated with a stop, to make him very clear. Sally closed her eyes and sighed.

“Yes.”

“The fuck? Do you know what a pain in the ass this mark has been? I was convinced that there was something deeply wrong with me that my soulmate would be a guy but I was mostly attracted to women. Why would you say something like that?” He exclaimed. Sally raised her eyebrows and made a disgusted noise.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your mark is bad? Do you recall what your first words to me were, you twat?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, just pulled her coveralls off. She was wearing a comfy pair of men’s boxer briefs under the coveralls, and she pulled the leg up to reveal her soulmark. “How do you think I’ve liked having that fucking thing on my leg since I was twelve?”

Stark knelt down in front of her, looking at the mark. He slid his hand up her thigh and followed the words around with his fingers. “It’s definitely my writing. And unquestioningly something I would say. But how did you go so long without anyone ever blabbing about what was there?”

“Do you honestly think I let anyone see that? With your name branded into my skin like I’m your fucking property? I covered that shit up. I tried to have it covered with a tattoo, but I woke up the next morning and $1000 of beautiful work had fucking vanished,” Sally blurted. She was breathing heavily and Stark was still running his fingers along the words on her leg. She pulled free of his grip and adjusted her briefs before stepping back into the coveralls.

“Sir, your heart rate is dangerously elevated,” JARVIS spoke from the ceiling.

“Do you think?” Stark snapped. He rolled back on his heels and dropped to his ass, head in his hands. Sally could hear him slowly inhaling and then after a moment, forcing the air back out his lips. He flexed his fingers in his hair. Sally slid back down the wall, facing him, knees up at her chest.

“Are you okay, Stark?” He’d been doing the breathing thing for a while, and the rhythmic nature of the act was settling her own nerves. He looked up at her, his dark brown eyes meeting her blue ones and locking.

“We have a lot to talk about. But the first thing I think I’d like for you to do is start calling me Tony,” he said.

“Now why couldn’t you have said it that way in the first place?” Sally laughed despite herself.

#avengers fanfic #tony stark x OFC #soulmate AU #I didn't remember this chapter being so fucking long

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gregoryferrell · 4 years

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lizziebennet97 · 5 years

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Comfort Zone

My partner for the comfort zone activity was Chihiro. When I initially found out she was going to teach me about basketball, I was terrified. I started to panic and imagine the worst-case scenarios. I started to tell myself those self-fulfilling prophecies. I had flashbacks of PE class in middle school and high school. I am not at all a competitive or very athletic person. I have had multiple negative experiences of playing and failing to play basketball in school.

With the group projects being a mutual worry for us both, Chihiro and I decided to meet up after our groups had presented our sales pitches. We met on Friday during the afternoon in Merner. We originally wanted to meet in Res Rec, but the space was being used for another event. As I walked to Merner, I was anxious. I was really afraid that she and whoever else happened to be watching would laugh at me. I felt extremely self-conscious. I tried to remind myself that Chihiro might also start to feel this way once it was time for me to teach her how to play the piano.

I walked into Merner, and Chihiro was waiting for me with a friendly smile. She already had a basketball in her hand. I immediately looked around the gym to see who else was around. The only people there besides us were some maintenance workers that were cleaning and setting up some equipment. Chihiro bounced the ball a couple times, and both bounces were extremely loud. The sound echoed off the wood floor, and I jumped a little. As small as she is, Chihiro is very strong and powerful.

She told me that her end goal was to have to me some successful lay ups. I didn’t know what that meant so I had to ask her. She explained it to me then demonstrated what a lay up looked like. I was intimidated by how good she was. She handed me the ball and asked me to give it a try. As I expected, I made a complete fool of myself. I was extremely self-conscious of how I looked when I ran and dribbled the ball, and then I completely missed the basket.

Chihiro reassured me that everything was ok, and she wanted to try just shooting the ball into the basket. We started by standing close to the basket, and she told me how to use my arms and body to make a successful shot. When it was difficult for her to explain verbally, she did a great job physically demonstrating. She would model for me, and she would re-model in slow motion when I looked or sounded confused. We practiced this for quite some time, really working on my aim and the shape of my arms in order to successful get the ball in the basket. When I made a series of baskets, Chihiro would have me back up a foot or so and try to make more baskets from a further distance. I hardly ever made a basket on the first try—it always took me a few attempts to get comfortable with the distance.

When I was able to make a basket from the half court line, she decided it was time to work on my dribbling. She modeled for me how to dribble just with my right hand from one of the court to the other. I did my best to mimic her. She tried to compliment me and say that I was learning quickly. But I kept looking down while I was walking and dribbling. She reminded me that in real games, the players can’t afford to look down otherwise you are not aware enough of the other players who could take the ball away from you.

Chihiro taught me a cool trick that she learned when she was in school which helped her practice dribbling while looking up and away from the ball or the floor. While I walked and dribbled, she walked backwards in front of me, holding up two hands. Whatever numbers she held up with her hands, I had to add those numbers and say my answer out loud while following her. This was extremely difficult and somewhat terrifying. Normally, I can multitask in musical and educational settings. I can talk and sing while playing an instrument. I can also be aware of counting my beats while watching the other musicians and the conductor while observing the audience. However, this forced me to use my brain in a way I had never done before. I was so occupied with keeping the ball in my control while looking at Chihiro’s fingers that I messed up on simple addition like 2+3. At the same time, this mental exercise got me to be comfortable and less self-conscious on how I looked.

Chihiro was able to laugh with me when I made simple mental math mistakes, and she understood that it was difficult for me. After I was comfortable dribbling like this with my right hand, she challenged me by making me dribble with my left hand. We did the same mental math exercise to keep me from looking at my hand or the ball. Because I am right handed, this was extremely difficult and took much more time for me to feel more confident with my left hand.

Next, Chihiro had me dribble with alternating hands. She explained how when I walk, I needed to keep the ball landing directly in front of my feet every time. This way, the ball was making a sort of V shape as I bounced it from one hand to the other. We practiced this in place first, then tried dribbling this way while walking. This was the hardest way for me to dribble, so Chihiro took out the mental math exercise and just walked with me as I dribbled.

Just for fun, Chihiro tried to teach me her favorite trick. Instead of dribbling the ball directly in front of your or to the side, she wanted me to try pass the ball from my right hand to my left hand, bouncing the ball underneath and between my legs. She modeled it for me first, doing her best to verbally describe what she was doing at the same time. I was suddenly uncomfortable again. In order for me to be successful, I had to raise my left knee and leg. I knew I was going to look like an absolute idiot. She handed me the ball, and I hesitated for a long time. She reassured me that this was not an easy trick, and it took her a very long time to learn it. She just wanted me to try it. So I did. I failed about ten times in a row, and each time I felt my ears turning hotter and hotter. When I finally passed the ball between and under my legs, successfully catching it with my other hand, Chihiro jumped with excitement and let me off the hook.

Finally, we returned to the lay up exercise. Now that I felt more comfortable dribbling and shooting baskets, I felt a little more confident in my ability to make a basket in a lay up. Chihiro modeled the lay up for me in real time then did it in slow motion so that I could really understand what my body was supposed to look and feel like in order to be successful. My first few attempts were in slow motion. I walked very slowly and took my time to make sure I landed on the correct foot. I took my time throwing the ball up, making sure to actually look at the basket instead of my hands or the ball.

Chihiro made corrections where necessary, and I finally attempted my first real lay up. I actually jumped and lifted one foot in the air in front of me like Chihiro modeled, and I almost made the basket. Chihiro reminded me to aim for the corner of the white square on the back board when I went for the basket. On my next attempt, I was actually successful. All that worry and self-doubt disappeared. Chihiro was a perfect cheer leader and made me repeat the lay up several times. At one point, one of my friends walked in from outside and commented on my “moves.” I was a little embarrassed because I was sure they were making fun of me, but I replied back that I was learning and that I hadn’t attempted this in at least four years. My friend left, and Chihiro watched me make a few more baskets.

At the end, my face still felt hot and I was a little anxious. But overall I was pretty happy. Chihiro did a great job of scaffolding the difficulty and the amount of information instructed to me. I later found out that she is an education major like myself, and I assured her that based off of how things went today that she would be a wonderful teacher. I don’t know how well I will remember everything she taught me, but I still felt confident walking out of Merner.

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battleofdhund · 6 years

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Calming Minds with @ImperfectQhuinn

W: *I'd left him alone for a couple days, not only to let him find his rhythm of being home again and talk to the others but to adjust to the things I'd told him. My approach so far had been pretty low key, soft and non-threatening now it was time to step it up and to put some demands and expectations behind what I said. Qhuinn wasn't dumb, on the contrary he was very smart but extremely hard on himself. He thought he wasn't worthy and years of being told and proven by people and himself especially that he wasn't was the reason he would benefit from the lifestyle. He was the reason I had gone through the trouble of contacting Tobias, not that I wasn't dominant by nature, I was but if it only had been for sex and play in the bedroom I could have explored that with Qhuinn without the training. Now I was still going to explore it with him, because it was a about him and pleasing him but now I had the skills and means to know what I was doing. He needed me to be sure, secure and strong when he couldn't be. Knocking on his bedroom door I waited patiently for him to yell enter.* @ImperfectQhuinn

Q: -I had spent the past couple days just trying to have some sort of normal. I spent a lot of time in the gym with the trainees and hung out with the other Brothers. No one really acted differently towards me and they all seemed happy to see me out and functioning. But, in the back of my head everything Wrath had said to me still lingered. Every time I'd think about it my pride wouldn't let me get past the idea of having a collar on my neck and looking like a lost dog at Wrath’s feet. In the quiet time during the day in the house I tried to search the Internet for anything that I could find that would take away the idea I had in my head about it and unfortunately nothing I found was doing that. Some of the rope play looked interesting and the chains and stuff looked like something I could get on board with. But, reading about it and how some Masters wouldn't even let their submissive talk? I couldn't even imagine being told what I could or couldn't do and even the thought of it made me want to run. I had no good ideas on how to get Wrath and I from this place. I hated it- @_BlindRebel

W: *As I stood waiting for Qhuinn to open the door I thought about how much I'd missed him when he was gone. What had kept me going was knowing I'd find him and if I did what Tobias had said and kept calm and patient that I would eventually have one of the most rewarding relationships with the male I loved. I could hear Tobias voice in my head from one of the last phone conversations we had. “Remember, Wrath, he most likely won't have any idea what the lifestyle is, and if he has an inkling it will be the hardcore stuff about sitting on the floor kneeling, collating, whipping and all that other yummy stuff that's usually for subs that had been subs for a long time. He won't see the benefits it would give him, the peace of being rid of burdens he alone has carried. The complete love and utter devotion from a master. You will have to show him all of it.” And he was right I would have to do just that. Starting now. Banging on the door again, “Qhuinn, I know you're in there, open up.”* @ImperfectQhuinn

Q: -the pounding on the door jolted me from my laptop and the stuff that I had been reading. When I heard Wrath’s voice I slammed my laptop shut and rolled my eyes. Stuffing the computer between me and the arm of the big chair I'd been sitting in I called out- It's open. -I knew he wasn't coming in here to say hi. Song was trying to prepare myself for the impending doom of the last conversation that we'd had. I had been trying these past couple of days to understand but it had not helped and now he was here probably ready for some kind of answer or discussion about it. I wasn't ready for what this all meant and I wasn't ready to talk about it so I figured I'd put on a fake smile and pretend like nothing was even going on- @_BlindRebel

W: *He was tense, unnerved and not at all pleased to have me there, if the not answering the door was any indication. I entered closing the door behind me, my special glasses making it possible for me to see his face and the nervous fake smile he plastered all over it. “So, you done hiding and ready to talk to me Qhuinn? Or do you need another few days?” and work yourself up to an even more frenzied state, I didn't say that part though I had a seat on his bed instead. * @ImperfectQhuinn

Q: -He always smelled good. Why did he always smell so good? It was like whatever he used intensified around me. I had to stop myself from closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. He didn't need to see that. I watched him walk past me as he spoke and sat on my bed. My cock twitched at the sight of him sitting there smelling so fucking good. Traitor cock. I swallowed and cleared my throat before I spoke. I didn't want to have a frog in my throat and sound like a lustful teenager.- I don't really have an answer. I've tried looking for some redeemable information on the Internet but, everything I found was shit I wouldn't do. Why would you order me to be silent. Do you not want to talk to me? -I rubbed my hand on the back of my neck- I did like the chains and rope and stuff. -my words a mumble- @_BlindRebel

W: *Popping a brow, he'd looked things up at least that showed that he was interested and more than a little curious about trying things out, all which was a great start. “I'm glad that you want to know more about it. But why instead of going on the Internet and mostly just finding bogus made up shit or the selected extreme stuff unless you know where to look. Instead of doing that, why don't you talk to me and ask me your questions? Hmm, that's all I really want anyway, for you to come to me talk to me and give us a chance and not assume I'm out to hurt you or shame you. And since when have I ever said I was going to order you to silence?!” I growled just a little “why on earth would I want you silent, unless it was in a scene for a specific purpose.” Beside silence could be very therapeutic and calming but we didn't need to talk about that right then and there. There would come a day when Qhuinn asked for days of silence to not have to think or deal with the world and let me do it for him because he knew it was all for him anyway.* @ImperfectQhuinn

Q: -I sat back in my chair and crossed my legs Indian style. I took a deep breath and tried to process everything Wrath was saying. I owed him at least enough to listen and try to learn before I said no.- I am asking you questions. I can only have questions about what I find. I don't know even where to start here. I'm trying. -I rake my hand through my hair- I'm doing my best here and I realize that usually that isn't good enough but I'm trying. I don't even want to entertain the idea of a collar or a master. I'm an adult I don't need someone to control every aspect of my life. I'm not even sure what you think this is going to help. Why don't you start answering all those uncertainties first? -I tried not to sound like a child or a spoiled brat but I was clueless here and I didn't know what he was even thinking I needed help with.- You had a teacher right? Well I'm going to need one too. But with me you're going to have to start at square one. @_BlindRebel

W: *Leaning forward resting my elbows on my knees I tip my glasses back and put them on top of my head and smile. “You're right I haven't answered your question, and I'm sorry for that. A Sub and Dom relationship can be anything and everything you need it to be, it can help you grow, help you learn how to focus, how to ask for help, to have a person who's in your corner wanting to shoulder things for you when you can't or don't want to and to help you deal with shit that happens. It's about pushing boundaries both in regular life and in your sex life, to prove to yourself that you can and are able to do so much more than you think. That you're stronger than you let yourself to believe.” I stop and look at him and he's paying attention, at least he doesn't say anything “When it comes to you I want to help you stop putting yourself down, to believe in yourself and the amazing male you are, I want to be the one you turn to for your needs and be the one who brings you more pleasure than you ever felt before. As for silence and collars, don't throw things out because you have a pre-made assumption on what they mean or how others have taught you to feel about them. When time comes, IF time comes try them for yourself and then decide.”* @ImperfectQhuinn

Q: -I listened closely. Probably for the first time in my entire life to the words he was saying and I was letting them sink in. I actually wanted to learn and wanted to know what it is that he wanted from me. What he was saying actually didn't sound so bad. Actually, it sounded almost great. He was right I did put myself down too much and I needed to stop that. It was ok to be different here and just because I wasn't attracted to men I wasn't judged by Wrath. It still didn't make sense to me how exactly he planned on getting me to stop putting myself down, it was ingrained in me from childhood. It's basically all I knew. The smile on his face though. Like he had a plan and knew every move that would be made and I didn't have to help him plan or do anything but be myself. The thought alone made me have chills.- How? How are you going to get me to stop putting myself down… Through all that? Punishing me? -I slowly got up and moved to sit beside him on the bed. I wasn't super close but I was closer than the chair. Maybe I would get a better grasp if we were closer.- @_BlindRebel

W: *He was relaxing and listening, I wanted to cheer out loud but refrained from doing so because I didn't want him to get all self-conscious again and pull back. I might have grinned a little more as the bed dipped next to me and he sat down asking me more curious questions. That was my Boy, my curious and eager boy. “There are many ways of doing this, what works for one couple doesn't work for another. For you, I think you need order, structure, discipline and a shit load of love. Putting yourself down could be easily taken care of with getting a punishment each time you do it. The Butt-to-brain method usually is effective, and for many subs, pleasurable way to work off bad habits.”* @ImperfectQhuinn

Q: -I'd watched Wrath’s body language closely and he didn't seem to be unsure of himself or his plans. Scooting a little closer while he talked and answered my question, I was more surprised that the only punishment that he'd really mentioned was spanking me. My mind wandered to what it would look like to have Wrath spanking me and what it would feel like. My cock now hard and straining against my shorts I tried to shift my entire body to not look like I was playing with myself but I knew he would be able to tell. He was basically promising to make me a better version of myself and who wouldn't want that? He was promising to love me which no one had ever done before, not even my own family.- What about the Brothers. What will they say knowing what we’re doing. You'll want me to submit in front of them won't you? -I had moved my hand between us and before I could stop myself my fingers were trailing up Wrath’s thigh- @_BlindRebel

W: *I was drawing him in, he was scooting closer, getting more and more turned on. I could scent his arousal and to be honest I'd seen him naked before and with that size dick it was impossible for him to hide it. I couldn't help the moan lined purr that rumbled up my throat as he touched me. This what I wanted for us to explore each other in bed, outside of bed. Taking his hand I guided him to straddle me so we could both touch and talk. “Qhuinn this isn't so much about what I want as to what you want. We will talk about things before doing anything. First you'll choose a safeword, the one word that will stop everything and lets you say no as much as you like. After that we will try things that we discuss. I might ask things of you because I feel you need them and if you can't absolutely stand the thought you'll use your safeword. I want your willing submission. I want to love you and be loved by you. I want to challenge you to reach your full potential not make you unhappy. To answer your question, no it is not a requirement to submit before the others. They don't even need to know”* @ImperfectQhuinn

Q: -When he reached for my hand I could feel like an electricity between us. My stomach fluttered and he’d pulled me on top of him in one quick motion. My legs straddling his lap and my cock being so close to his made my skin break out in goosebumps. I bit down into my bottom lip and rolled my hips slightly into his. I wanted him and the more he spoke the more things made sense for me. He didn't want to make me submit or feel embarrassed, he wanted me to submit to my comfort and do things that felt right for us. I moved my arms around his neck and played my fingers in his long hair as I started moving my face closer to his.- Do you want me to call you Master? Or Sir? -a sly smirk playing at my lips.- @_BlindRebel

W: *He was so hot in my lap we both almost caught on fire, his hips rolled because his need was so great. Placing my hands on his hips I pushed my own hips up grinding my hard cock against him to show him he wasn't the only one affected. The smirk on his face was glorious. “Sir will do for when we are alone and Master when and if we reach the point where nothing matters but you and I, not other people or what they think. This Qhuinn, is all it is about feeling, touching, fucking, focus and joy.” I grin and wink before going on, “I want to make you happy and strong. That's all.” Sliding my hands up his body and over his arms to his wrists I take them in my hands and guide them back behind his back holding them there in one grip. “All you have to say for no as long as you haven't chosen a safeword is stops and I'll stop.” Knowing he can break free pretty easily should set his mind at ease, and with my eyes on his even though I can't quite make them out without my glasses on I lean in to kiss him. My tongue teasing his lips open and delving inside to take possession of his mouth.* @ImperfectQhuinn #CalmingMinds

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sarahburness · 6 years

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6 Powerful Steps to Stop Binge Eating for Good

“As long as you are breathing, there is more right with you than wrong with you, no matter how ill or how despairing you may be feeling in a given moment.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

Binge eating is hard. For me, winter time has always been hardest.

The winter of 2011 was particularly bad. It was then that I sat, hands clasped around my knees, thinking about how best to kill myself.

Hopeless only scratches the surface of what I was feeling—that same feeling I’d had on-and-off for fifteen years. I was twenty-three. I’d spent half my life in darkness.

I went over the mathematics: Depression + Eating Disorder = Agonizing Existence.

I was finally ready to admit I needed help. So as I sat there, I vowed to put an end to my suffering. I told myself “I’m going to give this one final push. I’ll put all of my energy into stopping this continual depression, and these cycles of binge eating and starving myself. If it still doesn’t work, I’ll just kill myself.”

It really was that simple.

By the end of 2011, I didn’t want to kill myself anymore. A few years later, I’d stopped binge eating completely. These days, I’ve never been happier. I don’t get depressed anymore. I am healthy, mentally and physically, and I try to live every day in gratitude, happiness, and well-being.

That’s how I know you can do this too, and why today I’m sharing with you six powerful steps that I found essential to my journey.

1. Realize there’s nothing wrong with you.

I know it feels like you’re a disgusting, terrible person for binge eating. I know you don’t understand what’s going on, or what happened to your “willpower.” I know you’re starting to feel insane.

But listen up: there is nothing wrong with you.

Binge eating isn’t about food, it’s about emotions. People deal with their emotions in all kinds of ways. If you’re at the end of your tether, you might do drugs, you might drink, you might get really angry at the people you love, you might have anxiety attacks, and/or you might binge eat.

This isn’t a judgement call. Binge eating is just the way you’re acting to try to deal with difficult emotions in the best way you know how right now. That doesn’t mean you’re broken, that doesn’t mean you’re going to “be like this forever,” and it doesn’t mean you can’t learn how to cope in different and more productive ways.

It’s completely natural and normal to want to feel better. So although binge eating might not be the ideal way you want to be acting, know that it is human, and it is okay.

2. Reattach your head to your body.

Up until I was twenty-three, I didn’t even know I had a body.

I will never forget this: one day, I was walking up a hill to my office (I was doing a Ph.D. at the time) and suddenly I just felt terrible. Then I was frustrated that I had been feeling okay, and suddenly everything had become unbearable.

I’d just learnt about mindfulness, so I did what is known as a body scan (where you “scan” each part of your body with your mind, and notice whatever is present, without judgment).

You know what I realized? I was just really hot from walking up the hill.

I took my coat off and felt instantly better.

This moment was huge for me. I’d spent so long in my head that I didn’t even realize I had a body–that it too had needs—and that I needed to listen.

As well as allowing you to get back in touch with physical sensations in your body (like temperature, and gentle, non-scary sensations of hunger), mindfulness increases your control over your emotions (more precisely, it increases activation of the medial prefrontal cortex, and decreases activation of structures like the amygdala that trigger our emotional responses.

That’s good news if you’re binge eating. Maybe right now there’s a disconnect between your mind and your body, but by using mindfulness to gain more control over your emotional responses, you’ll start to learn to decide whether to listen to those calls to eat emotionally, or not.

Action step: Start doing the body scan once a day. If you can’t manage thirty minutes, start with two minutes every day. Then build it up to five minutes, then ten. Start slowly and build it up over time. This is about practice, not perfection.

3. Shift your self-worth.

I’ve always been athletic, but while at University, I decided to “get in the best shape of my life.” I trained excessively: high intensity intervals, multiple times a day. I became obsessed with what I ate. I weighed myself multiple times a day, checked how my belly looked in the mirror every opportunity I could. I called myself fat at every single opportunity, and always felt incredibly self-conscious everywhere I’d go.

In reality, I was a skeleton, but all I saw was fat, fat, fat.

When my obsessive exercising and restrictive eating turned into binge eating, I didn’t know what to do. I was so ashamed of myself for my actions and what I was doing to my body after “all that progress I’d made.”

All of my self-worth was in how I looked, and how thin I was. It felt like binge eating was against everything I stood for.

I decided I needed to be stronger, both mentally and physically, so I joined a gym and began to train for strength. Binge eating made me feel completely out of control, but by showing up to train no matter how I felt, I started to realize that I actually did have control—that I could still act in the way I wanted to, even if I didn't feel like it.

I realized that I always had a choice.

It’s important to say at this point that strength training has been a helpful part of my recovery, but you don’t need to go to the gym to stop binge eating. In fact, exercise can be unhelpful for many people, especially if you aren't listening to your body when it needs to rest and recover.

Indeed, while my commitment to strength training boosted my self-worth in the short term (and helped me stop binge eating), I eventually recognized I was too focused on my performance. I never quite felt like I was achieving, doing, or being enough.

I now know that we are all so much more than how we look, how much we weigh, and how well we perform, so I recommend a diversified approach to building your self-worth. Instead of tying it to your body, focus on a variety of things, like being a good friend and relative, acting with integrity and honesty, and taking care of yourself enough so you can give back to others.

So many people who binge eat are overachievers and perfectionists, but when you’re in this deep, it’s a sign that you need to diversify your identity away from perfection, dieting, exercising to extremes, and working too much.

Instead, I recommend trying to figure out what you truly value in your life, then focusing on the process of becoming the person you ideally want to be.

Action step: Take a few moments to ask yourself: What do you value in your life? I don’t know about you, but when I’m lying on my deathbed, I don’t want the only thing people can say about me to be:

“Well, at least she had a six pack.”

No. I want to be so much more than just a body to the people in my life, and to myself. I want to be kind and strong, encouraging and inspirational. I want to love.

Do you value being a good friend, parent, sibling, artist? Do you value your well-being? Could you start practicing gratitude for the things you have in your life, including your body? Could you practice just sitting, breathing, and being human?

4. Find the diamonds in the turd.

Right now you’re focused on all the times you binge, all the times you have these strong urges to eat, and all the other things that you are doing “wrong.” But, I guarantee you are doing so many things right.

I call these the diamonds in the turd.

For example:

Maybe there are only actually two to three hours each evening where there’s a strong urge to binge. Right now you’re focused on that time, but think about it: for twenty-one hours of the day, you don’t want to binge. That’s great! It’s also powerful information, because recognizing when you’re most prone to a binge is going to help you stop.

Maybe you notice that you feel more prone to binge after you've had a bad night's sleep, or when you're stressed, anxious, or worried. Is it possible to get more sleep? Can you plan to get more time in for your wellbeing in general?

Maybe you notice the urge to binge is stronger after you’ve looked in the mirror and insulted how you look, or when you scroll through Instagram and see athletes, models, and random happy people that you want to look like. Can you limit your time on social media, or only follow people that actually help you? Can you be kinder to yourself in the mirror?

By starting to notice your own behavior—by becoming a detective about it, rather than judgmental critic—you’ll see there are plenty of things you’re doing right. This means you can begin to focus more time on the actions that are helpful (like taking better care of yourself through sleep, and taking time out just for you), and limit the unhelpful things (like social media, diet blogs, and your negative, hurtful self-talk).

If you're not sure where to even start, try making a tally chart of the number of times you catch yourself thinking about food today. This will make you more aware of your thoughts, which means you're more likely to be able to catch yourself and say:

“Okay, I'm thinking about food. Does this mean I need something else right now?”

Or maybe just “Okay, I hear this thought, but it isn't helpful right now. Let's focus on something else.”

It will also make you aware of how often your food thoughts aren't occurring:

“Okay, so today I caught myself fantasizing about food 37 times, but 50,000 thoughts go through my mind every day! So I'm not thinking about food ALL of the time. So when am I not thinking about food? Can I do more of that?”

Action step: Find your diamonds in the turd:

What's different about the times where I'm not binge eating / don't want to binge eat?

Where am I when I do, and don't, want to binge?

What activities am I doing?

Is there some way I can do more of the things that help, and less of the things that don’t?

5. Stop restricting.

There are many scientific studies showing a strong correlation between diets and binge eating. (Here’s a summary of just one of those studies.)

If you’re finding it difficult to stop binge eating, one of the best things you can do right now is to stop restricting yourself. That means giving yourself permission to eat any food, at any time. It means not starving yourself the day after a binge, or doing excessive amounts of exercise because you “slipped up.”

When I suggest this to people, there’s normally a lot of hesitation. I totally understand. You’ve been dieting and restricting your intake for so long that it’s scary to try something different. But binge eating isn’t serving you any more, and if you don’t eat enough, or eat what you’re really craving, then you will simply never be satisfied.

Instead, satisfaction can be increased (both physically and psychologically) by bringing awareness to your tongue. How does your tongue feel in your mouth? How does the food feel, and taste, on your tongue?

A lot of people talk about mindful eating, and this will definitely help, but only as long as it doesn’t feel restrictive. If “eating only when you’re hungry” feels too restrictive right now, then it’s totally fine to eat when you’re not hungry. If “eating mindfully” feels too restrictive, it’s okay to not do that for a while.

When you’re ready, you can begin to introduce one mindful bite a day, then one mindful bite per meal.

Action step: Try to stop restricting foods. If you binge, try to do it as mindfully as possible (giving yourself full permission to do so). When you’re ready, you can introduce mindful eating into some of your meals.

6. If you do binge, follow these three steps.

Trust me, you’re going to “slip up” on this road, but that’s okay. You’re in the process of learning the skills you need to cope in a more productive and healthier way. That takes time.

These three steps will help you if you binge eat:

Step 1: Forgive yourself immediately. (That was a tough moment, and you didn’t behave in the ideal way. That’s okay, you’re human, and you’re learning. Think of what you’d say to a friend going through the same thing, then say that to yourself.)

Step 2: Try to become curious about what happened. Try to pinpoint what caused it. Was it a particularly stressful day? Were thoughts whizzing around in your head? What could you do to increase your self-care the next time that happens?

Step 3: Wait until you’re next hungry, then try to eat a “normal” meal (just some basic veggies, protein, carbs and fats). Don’t try to overthink it, and don’t try to restrict.

The great thing about this is you will always get hungry again. And when you are, it’s another opportunity to practice listening to your body’s natural hunger signals.

Finally, no matter what happens, just remember: as long as you’re breathing, there is more right with you than wrong with you.

Illustration by Kellie Warren. Find her on Instagram @kellistrator.

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The post 6 Powerful Steps to Stop Binge Eating for Good appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/6-powerful-steps-to-stop-binge-eating-for-good/

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katarinaphang-blog · 6 years

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Why Do You Choose A Harder Path With Men?

What is the appeal of a harder path in life? Why do a lot of women choose this route when it comes to men?

I receive this kind of email a lot: “Please help, Kat. I have a rotation but I really want this man. None of these other men compares. I must have him. I want him to know me better and I want to know him better.”

Or “I know he’s married but I really want to be with him.”

Or “I know he’s not ready because he’s just out of a divorce but I am so attracted to him and I’ve never felt this way about any man in my life before.”

And I usually respond with “You know what the facts are and yet you still set yourself to heartache by choosing a harder path by clinging to an elusive man. Why?”

Yes, ask yourself why, seriously. (Be a high value woman by embracing these 7 traits)

Wanting what you can’t have is ignorance. Doing things that make you unhappy -that aren’t easy for you (apart from going to the gym)- is ignorance. This is a path filled with resistance. Resistance is misery. Ignorance leads to misery.

Where does this ignorance come from?

False view or belief. It’s the view that someone can fulfill your dreams and desire and they’re the one-way ticket to bliss. It’s the belief that when you get validated by your object of obsession’s approval, everything will be right in the universe. Right now, the universe isn’t quite right yet but it will be once you get him.

And of course the very mindset is why the universe is never quite right. Even by sheer chance that you succeed in getting him, you will soon find things about him that are very upsetting to you because he’s still the fountain of your emotional well-being. You are projecting your ideas and fantasy of a holy grail of a relationship on a mere mortal. How many couples divorce after a passionate love affair in the beginning? And didn’t you just divorce your ex yourself?

Newness doesn’t make him “IT.” Newness is why you can’t see beyond now other than the projection of your craving mind. The craving is the problem. Like a sugar rush, it’s very comforting to indulge in it for a while till you crash. And this man will eventually disappoint you as well like other men before him.

So you are creating this misery yourself. A lot of these issues aren’t really issues had you been wise enough to let go when the “going gets tough.” Or it would never get tough to begin with had you been hanging on loosely. Instead you keep investing, keep obsessing, keep projecting and you are sucked in deeper and deeper in the melodrama your craving mind creates.

You’re playing out the movie you create in your head because you are unconscious.

Right now I’m in the middle of Feminine Magnetism of group coaching

We have just finished Module 1 Journey Inward and will start with Module 2 Understanding Men and Four Components of Melting His Heart (you can sign up here). In Module 1 we discuss a lot of aspects of the craving mind and how it creates our reality and suffering.

When you suffer emotionally it’s because you are trapped in the egoic consciousness. Egoic consciousness is marked with grasping and aversion. You grasp when you have contact with pleasure or pleasurable sensations. You want more of it. You want it to stay the same. You want to repeat it day in day out. You are attached.

You avert/resist when you have contact with pain or unpleasurable sensations. You are trying to escape. You want it to change it right here right now. The tension between the two -between chasing and running away from/resisting- renders you restless. You never feel at home. The universe is only right momentarily before it goes back to a state of complete dissatisfaction in no time.

Through the seeing of the mechanics of attachment you will understand why you suffer unnecessarily.

The only way out of that predicament is, naturally, to get out of that very restrictive mode of consciousness by expanding it. How do you expand your consciousness? How do we evolve toward cosmic consciousness?

By practicing awareness. By being mindful of any movement in your inner space. By removing the blinders. By demolishing the false idea of the self. By expanding your conception of self so you include everyone and the entire cosmos in it.

Meditation is how you practice awareness. Meditation has been documented to cause changes in the brain. Meditation gives you “whole brain synchronization.”

Your brain has two hemispheres, left and right. Left hemisphere thinking is logical, practical and mathematical. Right hemisphere thinking is non-linear, intuitive, abstract, big-picture focused, and creative.

Can you guess which brain-half is dominant for you?

Numerous studies have shown that humanity’s greatest thinkers, inventors, artists, and scientists use both brain hemispheres together, in unison.

Meditation has been scientifically proven to synchronize your left and right brain, allowing extremely beneficial changes in hemispheric thought communication, neural chemistry, and intellectual processing power.

Its true, meditation super-charges your brain!

By destroying the illusory sense of separation. The mental chatters (your stories) are what create this separation. You call them culture, values, political view, religious belief or whatnot. They are just conglomeration of thoughts. People kill thanks to those thoughts. They create enemies with those thoughts. Look at the world over -at our terror plagued societies-, majority of people are still trapped in this level of consciousness (see Ken Wilber chart above: amber and lower).

When you know how to turn down the volume of your mental chatters, you feel natural connection with the cosmos. That is your True Self.

So the very purpose of this program is to usher you to a higher level of consciousness that allows you to see things as they are. You can only see your issues objectively when you can rise above them. You can’t see when you are in the middle of them.

Expanded consciousness will allow you 360° vantage point that allows you to see from every angle. it's like you can see relationships between things and connections from one spot to the next when you are standing on an elevated ground.

“Problems can’t be solved from the level of consciousness that created them.” ~Albert Einstein

Thanks to that you will become 100 times more functional and effective human being. You will accomplish more by struggling less. You will be happier and more peaceful. Life is way easier for you cause you have a 20/20 vision. It’s magical place to be. It’s a totally different world.

You will learn how to be vulnerable and authentic. You can be yourself moment to moment cause you accept yourself without judgment. You are moderate and well-rounded. You have owned your shadow so you are no longer a reactive ball of nerves. You become less and less judgmental. You are at peace with yourself and with the world.

Here are some clear signs that you have cosmic concuoisness :

1. You have much fewer lingering I-thoughts. If you are aware you will notice some sort of tension and resistance when you are lost in thoughts about I-me-mine. That is the very definition of the ego. Ego is none other than movement of the mind that runs toward object of obsession/desire (clinging, grasping) and resist pain (aversion). When you’re totally in the moment you are not in the I-thought mode. There is no I in total attention of and merge with the moment. Remember, I think therefore I am. No thought, no “I.”

The dropping away of fear as the self is dropping away. You don’t have the anxiety and fear most people have anymore: fear of the unknown, fear of some imagined future event, fear of not being good enough, fear of failing, etc. The self lives in psychological time. You no longer live in the psychological time of the past and the future. Psychological time leads to fear and sorrow.

You don’t cling and dwell on any particular thought anymore. Nothing has the same meaning anymore. A lot of times you just don’t want to think. If you do think it comes and goes without leaving any mark behind. You’re like a teflon, nothing sticks anymore. You’re light as a feather.

You feel rather than think more. When thinking is put in its right place, it’s no longer domineering your inner realm. As thinking recedes, feeling arises. You feel directly without the influence of thoughts. Thanks to that you have an acute intuition. The paradox is….

Your emotions are mostly flat. You no longer have the ups and downs of feelings most people have day to day. You feel awed, amazed, touched, moved, compassionate, grateful and tranquil much more often than the opposites. Your default emotion is serenity (calm and joy).

You have slowed down your mental process so much you can muster a conscious decision, more often than not, to continue on a passage of thought or abort it knowing first hand the nature of the thought (either willy-nilly futile thinking or creative thinking). You are able to do it cause there is a gap between you and your thoughts. When you realize it is an interesting creative thought process you allow your mind to probe and explore as if you weren’t even involved in it. In the old days, this is how prophets got their revelations. This is how I transmit my insights to you all week to week with my classes. You become a deliberate thinker. You only think (which means continuing on a thought process) when you need and choose to like when you need to solve problems. You become a sole master of your inner world. You are king to your mind, not slave to it. You are a powerful creator of your dream and reality. You are the Seer cause your divine intelligence is activated when mundane thoughts recede to the background.

You are rarely triggered. You become much less neurotic. Being triggered is a sign of denying a certain part of ourselves because it’s so painful or shameful and as a defense mechanism we project that suppressed unclaimed part of us (our shadow) onto the person who triggers us. Being triggered, thus, is a sign of being unconscious.

You are rarely stressed and never depressed. You can see what most people aren’t privileged to see. With that holistic understanding of the world and human nature you vibrate from a much higher frequency than most people. You are the sort of person people come to seek counsel because your vantage point is so all-encompassing.

You don’t judge yourself, hence your lightness of being is a magnet to people and in turn it’s allowing others to alleviate their self-judgment and -in turn- their judgment of others. You like yourself, hence it’s easy for you to like others. Judgment is when we assess a situation not coming from a place of acceptance but a belief that our way is the only way and we need to change others. That means you have that unclaimed side of you. Each time something evokes an emotional reaction in you, it’s an indication that you are fighting your shadow. Hence, you can see that self-judgment goes hand in hand with judgment of others. Self-acceptance goes hand in hand with acceptance of others.

The end of becoming. You are no longer enslaved by impulses, drive, ambition and desire to become somebody that to most people are why they are anxious and unhappy. You are fluid moment to moment not being ruled by an idea of a certain ideal self either now or in the future and you surrender to the flow of life with a mind filled with contentment and curiosity.

The end of sorrow. The end of grasping and resistance is the end of sorrow. The sorrow-free mind is a instrument of life. It surrenders to the flow of life.

“Great seers have always told us to acquire experience. They have said that experience gives us understanding. But it is only the innocent mind, the mind unclouded by experience, totally free from the past; it is only such a mind that can perceive what is reality. If you see the truth of that, if you perceive it for a split second, you will know the extraordinary clarity of a mind that is innocent. This means the falling away of all the encrustations of memory, which is the discarding of the past. But to perceive it, there can be no question of ‘how.’ Your mind must not be distracted by the ‘how’, by the desire for an answer. Such a mind is not an attentive mind. As I said earlier in this talk, in the beginning is the end. In the beginning is the seed of the ending of that which we call sorrow. The ending of sorrow is realized in sorrow itself, not away from sorrow. To move away from sorrow is merely to find an answer, a conclusion, an escape; but sorrow continues. Whereas, if you give it your complete attention, which is to be attentive with your whole being, then you will see that there is an immediate perception in which no time is involved, in which there is no effort, no conflict; and it is this immediate perception, this choiceless awareness that puts an end to sorrow.” ~Krishnamurti

It’s what equanimity is all about and it’s the culmination of this program. Equanimity equals freedom. It’s liberation from duality, from grasping and aversion. You are one with what is because you accept yourself moment to moment. “What is” is however you are moment to moment. You are at peace with it.

You are not separate from what is and the rest of the world.

By focusing on your personal evolution you contribute so much to the evolution of all mankind. This is what this world needs today, more than ever. Only evolution of consciousness will guarantee our survival as a species. We can do this together.

You can now own the entire 11 classes of Module 1 Journey Inward here. This is going to be an investment that will change your life forever. It works much faster and way cheaper than traditional therapy. Not only you’re going to be a total goddess in your relationship with your man but you will also become an agent of change. You’ll be at the leading edge of the evolution of consciousness.

Want to learn more about this very fascinating subject of expansion of consciousness and melt his heart in the process? Here’s the most affordable way:

by working with me face to face in a very relaxed, fun and intimate setting in my own home!

And you will get some of the coaching programs I mention here as bonuses as well so you can start listening to them before coming to the weekend getaway. I promise you it’ll be one of the most worthwhile investments you’ll ever make in your life. Your life will turn upside down for the better after the retreat if you practice all the skills I teach there.

MORE: What If I Tell You That The Only Way To Get Him Is To Let Him Go?

Have you read my book yet? If not grab it here because you will learn so much about a lot of things that haven’t worked for you in your love life and how to fix them. I have just added a new bonus teleclass you don’t want to miss: “How Feminine Magnetism Is The Solution to Every Relationship Problem You Have.”

Please share this with the buttons below and I’d like to hear your comments as well and if you want me to address more scenarios write it on the comment section below (and don’t forget to subscribe to this blog for more insight into the mind of men on the right side bar so you’ll get notified for each new post).

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