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xoxoladyaz · 11 months

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It Hits Different This Time, Part 3

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington

TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

Brief updates from Eddie, a phone call with Jeff, and finally some news about Gareth

Steve woke up with a stuffy head the next morning; he’d spent a solid hour crying with Robin on the couch after he got off the phone with Eddie, going over everything Eddie had said again and again in excruciating detail. They weren’t sad tears, they were tears of relief, but it still did quite a number on his sinuses.

Thankfully, when he talked with Eddie later that evening, Eddie hadn't let his own negative emotions keep him down.“Talking with Wayne has been tough,” he’d said with a wry laugh. “I’d really been hoping I would never have to have this conversation with him, but hey, we had it, and now things can get better.” (Which reminded Steve that he needed to call Wayne and see how he was doing in all of this.)

Aside from that, though, Eddie seemed to be in high spirits. He told Steve all about the detox process (“Terrible, I’d rather go skinny-dipping with Jason Carver than go through that again”) and about his conversations with his therapist (“Ugh, I feel like my heart is throwing up, but Doc said that was a good thing and that we’re making progress, so, yay?”) and all about his sobriety sponsor (a seventy-five-year-old Italian woman named Francesca that he called “Frankie, she’s fucking hilarious, I kind of want to set her up with Wayne.”) Steve just couldn’t get over how good it was to hear Eddie like this: how awake and alert he sounded, how clear his voice was, how loud he laughed. It made the last ten months even more glaring in how off Eddie had been before, how badly fucked up he had been on whatever cocktail of drugs he'd been taking.

They’d gotten a bit more time to talk this evening, which was wonderful, but Steve was relieved that they ended their call as early as they did because he had a few calls of his own to make, now that things were settling down somewhat.

“Hey Jeff.”

“Steve!” Jeff’s voice rang loud and clear over the line. “Shit, man, it’s good to hear from you. How are you doing?”

“Good, good. I just got off the phone with Eddie and I just wanted to say thank you, man. I can’t – I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am that you were there for him when I wasn’t.”

“Shit, Steve,” Jeff replied reassuringly. “Eddie’s my brother. He might be kind of an asshole, or, actually, he might be a lot of an asshole - ” (Steve snorted through his nose) “ – but I’d do anything for him. I was happy to be there. And I know that if I was the one getting into that deep shit, he’d have done the same for me.”

“Still, it’s hard, man. I mean, I wasn’t even there and - ” Fuck, he would love to stop getting choked up all the time. “ – and it’s been hard for me. I can’t even imagine what it was like for you.”

Jeff’s sigh was long and deep. “Well, I can’t say it was a fun time, because it wasn’t. It actually really fucking sucked, watching them just fall apart all the time because they were too fucking high. I’m just really glad I didn’t relapse myself.”

“It’s amazing that you didn’t, man.”

“Yeah, well,” he could hear the smile in Jeff’s voice, “I had an angel with me. Speaking of, Chrissy says hi.”

“Hi Steve!” Steve can hear the lilting voice of Jeff’s fiancée in the background.

“Tell her ‘hi’ back for me,” Steve smiled, although on the inside he was reeling. Why wasn’t I enough for him to stay sober?

“I will,” Jeff said back. “And listen, before you start spiraling or anything, Eddie’s drug use has nothing to do with you, man. The only reason I’ve stayed sober the last two years is because I got to a point where I wanted to be. I mean, I was into some rough shit when I met Chris, and it took me about a year and half before I decided it was time to get sober. And yeah, Chrissy was a part of that, just like you’re a part of it for Eddie, but the difference now is that Eddie wants to make this change and get the help to do it. He just got there on his own time. If there’s one thing you can’t do, it’s rush Eddie Munson.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve chuckled, and with his laugh felt the tension in his chest dissipate. “I’ve started telling him our reservations are half-an-hour earlier than they actually are just so we can leave on time. Which reminds me, he told me to treat you and Chrissy to dinner on the Amex.”

“The Amex?” Jeff whistled. “Fancy, fancy. We’ll be back in town next week, maybe you and Robin can meet us somewhere?”

“That would be great. Are you still out in Cali?”

“Yeah,” Jeff sighed, and this time his sigh was sadder. “We’ve been staying near Gareth’s facility, trying to convince him to stay.”

“Shit, man, I was going to ask what happened with him.”

“Gareth,” Jeff sighed again, “he just started the party scene later than the rest of us. It’s still new and exciting to him and he doesn’t think that all the shit he’s doing is a problem. And I mean, he hadn’t really gone that hard until that last weekend right before we came back, but I think he’s still in the denial stage with how bad it’s gotten. Chrissy is getting through to him though, I think. He’s agreed to at least stay for the four-week program.”

“Have you asked Wayne to talk to him? That might help.”

“Shit, I should,” Jeff hummed. “Wayne knows that he’s checked in, but Gareth hasn’t had phone calls until yesterday. I’ll get Wayne the number, see if he can’t help Gareth out.”

“Robin and I would be more than happy to talk to him, too. He’s family, you know? I’d hate to see him get hurt or worse.”

“I’ll let him know that he can give you two a call,” Jeff replied warmly. “That’ll mean a lot to him, I think. I’m going to try to get permission for Eddie to call him, too, I’m just not sure if there’s extra precautions they want people to take when they’re in these programs. At the very least, if Gareth sees Eddie get sober and stay sober, it might inspire him to do the same. You know how much he looks up to him.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve replied, and he was about to say more when his phone started vibrating.

Incoming Call: Wayne Munson

“Wayne’s calling, I’m going to check in with him. Thanks again for everything, Jeff, and let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Absolutely. Talk to you soon, man.”

Steve pressed the End Call, Start New Call button and brought his phone back up to his ear. “Hey Wayne.”

“Hello son. Glad I caught you.”

Tags List: @gregre369 @starman-jpg @skoomy-doompy @thequeenrainacorn @sleepyboosstuff @strawberrykore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @amoris-no-smut-allowed @steve-the-hairrington @iknewyouweremuggle @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sunfloweringstories @loverkasp @hyperfixationgoddess @steddie-as-they-go @zerokrox-blog @messrs-weasley @thelittleclare @lovelyscot @avacrebs @notsopretty-notsopink @novacorpsrecruit @srra @vampireinthesun @questionablequeeries @aylienator @unlit--skeleton @my2amgaythoughts @solliesolesito @epiclazershark @dreamlandforever @steadyllamaghostpeanut @nerdfighteratheart @callme-keys @space-invading-pigeon @bisexual-bilingual-biped @scheodingers-muppet @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @dbquills @julesiuile @child-of-cthulhu @immortal-iratze @r0binscript @manda-panda-monium @abstractnaturaldisaster @ilikeititspretty @high-risk-homosexual-behavior @jonesn4coffee @morganski-19 @almondflavoredbookworm @punctualhowell @sebastiansstanswhore @loguine-linguine @pearynice @imfinereallyy @theoneandonlywhitetiger @kjobriscoe @copingmechanizm @bejeweledbaby

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #rock star Eddie munson #sweetheart Steve harrington

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adventuringblind · 9 months

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New to your account, but love your neorodivergent/autistic reader with Oscar!! Just wondering, are you one, or do you know someone who is? I'm just curious cause you are nailing it down even to the small stuff, and I love it. If your uncomfortable sharing, I'd understand. I'm not autistic but I am part of the neurodivergent side, so thank you for the representation cause not many write about autistic or neurodivergents as a whole.

Also, sorry for this long ass message, and the floor is the best!! I really wanna know which motor home and track feels good enough to sleep in after one of the posts you did 😅

Yes! At least… most likely. I’ve been trying to get diagnosed with something even if it’s not autism. My doctor and therapist both thing that I am and I’ve been referred to a psychologist in hopes of getting a diagnosis.

I am a teacher (when I’m not writing). I’ve had to study a lot of the criteria for anything covered under the IDEA act because it’s important as an educator and for me personally to be able get a student the help they need as soon as possible.

I’ve been able to help both students and adults get answers they needed and get students the tools to help them be successful. I also just like learning about the brain in general. Anyone who knows me personally knows not to bring up the brain unless they want me to talk about for hours.

I actually didn’t think anything about it at first. Nobody had ever said anything to me and I had accepted the fact that I was a weird kid. Like… really weird.

Too old for my age. I hated the feeling of makeup (still do) and nobody understood why. Conversations were always difficult because I didn’t get majority of the jokes or I was ‘to deep’ or obnoxiously blunt. I’m a picky eater and have always been obsessed with specific things. My sensory issues are ridiculous and I was always shushing people who talked loud next to me. People purchased me clothes that I never wear because I hate the feeling. I was either disrespectful or extremely polite. I never changed even though my friends liked different things then I did. The list goes one…

Recently I encouraged my boyfriend if four years to get tested for ADHD. No shocker to anyone that he is and is now diagnosed. He also has practice with early intervention because he worked in early childhood. His own diagnosis, research, and speculations made him bring up the idea to me.

I pushed it off because I’m overly empathetic not apathetic. Basically I didn’t feel that I met the diagnosis criteria that I’d been studying in my college courses.

Actual research about how autism is more then the diagnostic criteria led me to believe maybe I’m neurodivergent in some way.

My boyfriend love to tell me ‘I told you so.’

I also know that self-diagnosis in the autistic community is welcomes usually. The only reason I say that I am is because of that and my doctor and therapist agree. I just don’t have a formal diagnosis yet.

It has explained a lot and it makes me look back on my childhood with more sympathy for myself.

Sorry for this long winded answer. The answer is yes which is why I write for neurodivergent readers.

If you want to see something specific or maybe a different type neurodivergent reader please let me know! :)

Definitely the Redbull ring and the Mercedes garage floor because it looks cold and shiny

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leighlew3 · 5 months

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Friendly neighborhood blob here again. I'm not from the US. So I have no real clue what Thanksgiving is about 🙊. But I do understand holidays get complicated when you're going through what you're going through. I've been through something like that a couple years back and I remember a very dull and sad Christmas. Just here to say much love 💜. I hope you're taking care of yourself. And I hope you're having a good time with your cats and your work and everything, all things considered. I hope you get at least some sense of momentary peace among all the craziness. Take care Leigh.

PS : The tattoos are cool.

Thank you so much for your kindness. 💜

It’s true, the holidays have been especially hard. But it’s to be expected, I suppose. And I’ve been working with my therapist on all of this because the first holidays (or any holidays and special days but especially these first ones) after losing the most important person in your entire life can definitely f*ck you up. Grief is truly a b*tch.

I was actually doing adequately “ok” lately but then all last week and these days leading up to Thanksgiving, I was crying every single day, missing Mom. But when I spoke to my therapist about it because I felt frustrated and like I was going backwards to a worse time or whatever, she made the great point to me that you can’t look at those things as a setback. That all of this is like a journey and it’s going to be up and down but just because the darkness hits again doesn’t mean that you’ve reverted back or that you’re getting worse or that you’re not making progress with the grief. If anything, the fact that you can have those really dark moments again, but still keep going and not crumble and not slip into self harm or whatever else… shows progress overall. So, yeah it truly is a process. I tend to be somebody who likes results and to fix things, etc. And tbh, I foolishly viewed grief as if it was something to conquer, and then move on from. But the reality is there’s not really any getting past it entirely. It’s always there. The pain of loss, missing somebody… it’s always there. Just like trauma. You just learn how to live with it more and more over time.

Anyway, I got to spend Thanksgiving with my nephews and some friends/found family. I may not have hardly any family anymore, and I actually have no immediate family anymore, but I have a lot of people in my life that are truly good human beings who truly care, and I’m super grateful to have them. And this includes random strangers to emerging friends on the Internet like yourself, who have been so kind through all of this… the community around here and on Twitter and within the fandom, etc who have given me so much love and support during the worst time in my life. I can’t even express the gratitude properly, but I’m sending a huge thanks to all. Truly.

So, yeah, I’ve just been trying to focus on my nephews, my friends, my writing and a lot of exciting things that are happening around it, and yes, my two bat crap crazy cats. 😂💜

Lastly, thanks! I waited a significant portion of my life to finally get tattoos, alas I’m glad I did because I’m really happy with them, as they turned out great and mean a lot to me…

P.S. It is very true btw that if you get one, you’re going to want more. I now have three and there’s a fourth one I’d like to get soon, and who knows beyond that. 😅

#grief #loss #holidays #mental health

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antvnger · 1 year

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I can’t decide between friendly letter and heartbreaking letter for Tony. You choose

((How about both?))

Scott’s therapist suggested that instead of painting every time he needed a catalyst to release thoughts and emotions, he should try something different. Like writing letters. He didn’t necessarily have to send them. That was his choice.

This is one that’s addressed and even has a stamp on the envelope. But it’s been in the drawer of Scott’s desk at home off and on since he wrote it. It’s not bad or anything. Maybe just a little too…personal. And it’s kinda embarrassing.

His therapist had him talking about his childhood lately. She said it was good to explore the hurt that lays in different parts of the past. And it got Scott thinking. And before he knew it, writing.

Tony, This will really be out of the blue, I know it will but this is stuff I really feel the need to get out of my mind and put down somewhere. It’s gotta be said here because as much as I love to talk, I don’t know how to say this stuff otherwise.

You are literally one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Ever. Like I have some good friends that I love to death, but you are your own category. I know that part I’ve said before but what I haven’t really said is you don’t know how long I’ve waited for a brother.

All. My. Life.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister, and I appreciate her. We have a good relationship and we had good times growing up. But at the same time, my childhood was so…lonely.

When you move about half a dozen times in just as many years, it can get pretty lonely. Attachments aren’t made because you’ve come to expect to lose them as quickly as you made them. And for that to happen in your preteen and teenage years, well that really does suck.

By the time I actually established roots in San Francisco, I was sixteen years old with no friends, desperate for some, and very hesitant to actually make them.

That’s why I wanted a brother so badly. I wanted a built in friend so I didn’t feel so lonely.

I was mad at my mom for a long time for not giving me a brother. Now be being older now and fully understanding what my mom had to put up with with my dad, well I’m just glad Sadie and I came around before things got that bad or we wouldn’t be here. And understanding all that now, I’d never wish my mom to go through any more shit than she already had to deal with.

But I can’t tell you how many times I cried myself to sleep over being so lonely and so sick and tired of being lonely.

I think I lost track of the point of this letter in my rambling, but the point is I wanted a brother/best friend for as long as I can remember. If you had told me back then I’d get one down the road, I’d have laughed.

But you’re worth the wait, big brother. You’re worth the wait. Thanks for being my big brother.

Love, Math Bro #2

Written letter meme

@stxrksarc

#ask scott lang #scott lang #ant-man #anon asks #stxrksarc #ask meme #written letter meme #math bros #tony stark #iron man #ant man #antman

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puyoginge · 1 year

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What's been going on with me.

3 years later I’ve decided to resurrect my Tumblr because it is my sanctuary and the social media ever. I disbanded twitter because it makes me angry all the time and for the sake of preserving my dwindling adult sanity. lol.

You may remember me from my few posts under the username yaboinate28. very 2018 lol. I posted a lot of trans / general mental health relatable stuff to manage my struggle with gender dysphoria and hopefully connect with others who felt the same as me. If you want to get a taste of what's been going on since then then please do read on below!! (TW mental health stuff)

WHY I LEFT

Some time in 2020 I purged all my trans posts, removing all my incentive to return to this new decade apocalypse of a site. I guess was feeling really insecure about the discordance between my Tumblr open-transness (??) and my irl extreme stealth thang. I was chronically worried about people from my real life finding my account basically.

Much of my stuff was very Tumblr cringe and probably stuff you’ve seen before but there were a couple of self help posts that were actually insanely good resources for coping with gender dysphoria (particularly in the early stages of social transition) which I seriously regret deleting. I remember a lot of my memes “blowing up” which made me feel really special and like I could contribute something to the world. As a young teenager struggling with self harm and severe depression as well as navigating my life within a home that outright rejected my trans identity, my Tumblr was my lifeline, the people I met made me feel hopeful for the future, and seeing people reblog with “I needed to hear this” or “thanks so much for posting” meant everything to me.

But its important for me to address that I’m not the person I was back then, !!and whilst I'll be attempting to find and repost some of those self help resources!!, I probably won’t be posting about my trans experience much anymore other than within this entry. But please please reach out if you need someone who’s been through it to talk to. I’d love to support you however i can!! I’m only a message away.

LIFE STUFF

Since 2019 my attitude on life has changed a lot and whilst coping with my mental health issues are still a daily hurdle, I’ve found myself a groove in which to sit and ride the wave. Essentially I’m managing and I’m happy and able to maintain a positive outlook on life, which is good. Additionally, with time my family have softened to my trans identity. Its not perfect, but I’m not at risk. I love my family and I don’t blame them for their actions, I’m just taking it slow.

Passed my GCSES with flying colours, passed my A-levels with regular colours, and I'm going to uni. Life has continued and its good. And whilst I would rather eat my own shit than go back and relive the days when my mum had to force me me out the door to get me to go to school, I made it through every last day. That's fucking badass, and tbh I'm pretty resilient now because of it lol.

I guess my point is (crass warning) see the joy in what you have. Take life day by day. Don’t let yourself take the easy route, because then you’ll learn how fucking strong you are. And you are stronger than you think even if all your cards are stacked against you.

TRANSITION STUFF

Since the last time we spoke I’ve legally transitioned, and am (at the time of writing) dealing with the initial admin of medical transition. I’ve been speaking regularly with a gender specialist therapist for 2 years. more recently I’ve been exploring my gender expression with my new found freedom. AND I’m in a relationship with someone who is beautiful and kind and couldn’t be more supportive of me (I adore them). And.... I’m still as stealth as ever. Just as resistant to say “yAYYyy i’m trAns!!!” as I’ve always been. I fucking love it. Some things never change lol. As I said family are being dragged by the tail along with me and have warmed to the whole thing. Support is not the word, but acceptance is pretty apt. They both realise it’s always been “me” at this point and that's enough for the time being.

WHO I AM NOW

I’m now an adult (wtf so surreal????) I have allowed my passion for retro gaming to flourish, recently got super fucking into rhythm games, developed a healthy collection of games and consoles which I may post about perhaps. Resurrected my love for anime, particularly dumb slice of life shows and Madoka Magica (all hail you beautiful broken masterpiece of infinite spinoff potential)

I found my interest in psychology (wowwww surprise!!) Got a job, found some friends, told some people a long overdue fuck off. And rounded myself into a much more open minded person than I used to be.

I couldn’t care less how many people read this, mainly I’m doing it for me. To provide myself a clean slate and stuff. But if you do read this, and you used to enjoy my silly little posts or find them helpful or whatever: I hope you’re well, I’m glad you stuck around and I hope you stay :)

#trans #transmasc #transfem #transgender #trans love #gay #pride #lgbt #life #non binary

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daydreamgoddess14 · 11 months

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Coming Clean

MASTERLIST

Roy had outdone himself at the press conference. Rebecca couldn’t have been more proud. The visit to her office by Colin had only added to the overwhelming feeling of love she felt for her club at that moment. His heartfelt confession had put so much context around Isaac’s outburst. She had assured Colin, just as Ted had, that the club would love him, support him, and protect him for as long as he wanted and needed, in all the ways he needed them to.

“We do care, Colin. We care so very, very much. We are your family, and we will always love you.” The combination of the win, Colin coming out and Roy’s story at the press conference had left everyone highly emotional, so it was no surprise that both Colin and Rebecca were in tears when he’d left her office after a warm hug. He’d gone back down to the locker room where the rest of the team had asked how it had gone upstairs.

“I tell you what, boys, before Coach arrived, I would have sooner taken out a full page advert in the bloody newspaper telling everyone in Richmond, than gone upstairs to tell the boss. But she’s changed so much for the better… It was honestly like telling my mam all over again. She said she’d already had an inkling, she made some roundabout comments like Coach did - weirdly similar actually - and we cried and hugged. It was like deja vu.” Colin’s comments drifted through the open office door to Ted, Roy, Trent and Beard.

“Nice one blondie.” Roy nodded. “They’ll all be calling her Mother fucking Superior at this rate.”

“Well she certainly has that firm but soft approach goin’ on right now.” Ted agreed.

“She gave me a little rainbow-love heart-unicorn book for my girl earlier. Said she’d just seen it at the checkout and grabbed it without thinking. And sweets as well. I mean, it’s the campest thing I’ve ever seen but that’s like the venn diagram of a four year old to be honest.” Trent shrugged.

“I’m sure I heard Will refer to her as ‘Mother’ the other day.” Beard added.

“I can’t believe she fucking cried.” Roy rolled his eyes.

Rebecca paced up and down in her office, her high heels long abandoned. The emotions had her restless and it felt like there was so much she hadn’t spoken about over the last few weeks and months. Keeley lay on the sofa with her feet up on the armrest, a glass of wine hanging from her fingertips.

“He was magnificent.” She breathed. “Are you ok? Sit down, you’re gonna wear a hole in that carpet.”

“I was worried that I’d pushed him into it.”

“Well, you did babes, but it all worked out.” Rebecca ‘hhmphed’ and slumped into the sofa next to Keeley.

“That story he told… Keels, there’s something I haven’t told you, but it’s a long, long story and I feel now like I don’t know where to start. So much time has passed and so much has happened recently. I feel out of sorts” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I’ve been seeing a therapist.” Keeley sat up immediately and swung her legs around to the ground, keeping the glass upright and all the contents safe. “I needed to organise everything in my brain and separate the things I can control from the things I can’t and I needed to just spill everything to someone completely impartial.” Keeley nodded and reached for the bottle, adding to Rebecca’s glass. Before Keeley could speak, there was a gentle knock at the door before Ted peered around.

“Hey ladies, great afternoon!”

“It was ace Ted - nice one!” Keeley raised her glass with a huge smile.

“The best kind Ted, well done.”

“Ahh ain’t nothing. It was a group effort. Thank you for taking some time with our Colin too, he’s lookin’ like a new man down there.”

“I didn’t do anything, I only told him the truth.”

“Well, there’s a lotta love for the club’s Mamma Bear in that locker room, and they ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Beardo. Despite, y’know, the beard.” Rebecca blushed,

“God Ted, I hope they’re not actually calling me that.”

“To be honest, I believe they’ve picked up the most commonly used term - uhh, I think Keeley had a hand in it? Boss ass bitch?” Keeley beamed while Rebecca conceded that yes, that was probably more acceptable. “Regardless, as per usual there’s more love for you than you’d let yourself expect. Anyway, just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything. Otherwise I’ve got a rock ‘n’ roll night of Roblox ahead of me.”

“No Ted, we’re fine thanks. You go and enjoy your time with Henry. Send him our love as usual.” Ted smiled graciously and high-fived the tree before closing the door firmly behind him. Rebecca watched the door for a long moment and then returned her attention to Keeley, and her wine glass.

“More love for you than you’d let yourself expect, eh? Well, well, well, isn’t that interesting?” Keeley pondered with her perfectly manicured fingers tapping her chin. “Anyway, something tells me we’ll end up coming back to that. Let’s go, I want to know everything I’ve missed while I was being love-bombed.”

“I should have told you when we went for dinner, but I didn’t want it to overshadow our lovely evening. I’ll start at the beginning…” so she did, Rebecca started with Tish and her unhinged physic reading,

“A green matchbook, drenched but safe, thunder and lightning…Has anything come up that matches what she said?”

“Well I got drenched in Amsterdam, but I was safe? And I got a green matchbook from Sam’s restaurant?” Keeley nodded,

“Both true, but neither of those are your future, right?”

“No, absolutely not, the Dutch bloke was a one off and nothing happened, and it’s over with Sam.”

“Thunder and lightning?”

“Nothing so far.”

“Ok, well maybe they’re yet to appear? What was next?” Rebecca took a deep breath and an even deeper drink.

“She said I’d be a mother.” Keeley’s jaw dropped.

“That’s incredible!”

“Yes, it bloody would be! Because of her, I went to a doctor who took some bloods and ran some tests. I can’t have children Keeley. I knew it would be the case, but it’s confirmed now - I’m not going to be a mother and that bloody… fraud made me think for one second that it might actually be possible.”

“Oh, Rebecca-”

“I’m alright, I found out a while ago now. I’ve had time to… process it.”

“Doesn’t make hearing it any easier.”

“No, no it doesn’t.”

“But she didn’t say ‘pregnant’, she said ‘mother’. As in, Mamma Bear?” Keeley pointed to the floor, to the locker room below them.

“Nooo. Surely not?”

“You can’t deny this whole family vibe we’ve got going on here babe? You and Ted might as well be mum and dad, Roy and Beardo are the unconventional uncles.”

“And you?”

“Babysitter!” Keeley sniggered. “Inappropriate relationships with an older family member - Roy, sorting their shit out, making sure they do as they’re told when mum and dad aren’t around.” Rebecca frowned, it wasn’t completely implausible. “Speaking of, you and Ted are looking close.”

“No closer than we’ve been in the past.” Keeley pursed her lips,

“Hmm. If you say so.”

“I wonder that he’s still so hung up on Michelle.” Rebecca said with a frown, “When he thought she might be getting engaged…”

“Maybe he’s more worried about being left behind? She’s moving on but he’s not ready to - not because he doesn’t want to, but because he’s not sure what else there is for him? If it helps, I don’t think he’s still in love with her.”

“Why would that help, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nevermind.” Keeley knew better than to push. She was far more effective when leaving little earworms behind that would linger in Rebecca’s thoughts. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you ready for lurrrve? It’s been a long time since boring John, since Sam. Are you ready to dip your toe?”

“Shouldn't we be focusing on you?”

“Nope, I’m licking my wounds.”

“And Roy?”

“I love him. So much, Rebecca, so much. But he’s really hurt me.” They sipped their wine in silence for a while. “The state of us. I should just shack up with you, you beautiful fucking goddess.”

“I’m sure that’ll raise a few questions around here.”

“Nahh, think of the PR. We could be the queerest club in the league and change the world of football as we know it.”

“Now that’s a statement. I think Colin is quite happy with his best friends knowing. Let’s not turn him into some sort of gay icon if that’s not what he wants. Not everyone wants to be a symbol.” They finished off the wine and left the club, Rebecca’s driver taking Keeley home first.

—--------------

Once she’d settled into her kitchen, Rebecca pulled out her phone to text Ted.

I hope Henry’s picked a good game on Roblox for you. I’ve sent some credits to his account. I think we handled the Colin, Roy and match situations beautifully today. Thank you for all you do 💜

She’d barely scrolled through Netflix when his reply dinged.

Well that’s very kind of you, he said thank you very much 🤩 We’re a team, Boss. We handle all of our situations as a team.

Rebecca smiled and selected a cheesy romcom. It would have been nice to share the evening with someone. Maybe they’d be cooking and she’d be pouring the drinks. Or she’d be attempting to cook and they’d be choosing a film or distracting her. It would be nice. To share that space with someone. Preparing food while Henry is on the phone in the background, making plans for his next visit to the UK while Ted makes cocktails using the fancy shaker Keeley had brought for Rebecca’s birthday. She froze with a frown, where had that visual come from?! She sighed and turned her attention back to the film, Ryan Reynolds was currently chasing down Sandra Bullock to marry her and stop her from getting deported in The Proposal. To have a love to run to, not from, she thought sadly. That would be something.

The following morning was glorious, the sun shone and it was warm. Rebecca made the uncharacteristic decision to walk round to Nelson Road. She dug out her trainers, swapped her handbag for a backpack style bag - still designer though, obviously - and put her tea in a Richmond AFC emblazoned travel cup. As she walked along the outskirts of the green, she was lost in thought wondering whether Roy had taken onboard her constructive criticism. She’d wanted to thank him after the press conference but her heart had grown to fill her throat and had taken her words away. She’d known after everything he’d said that she would have cried in front of him, and she knew how Roy felt about feelings. She hoped that he’d go and speak to Keeley, they were so clearly still drawn together and still very much in love, and maybe seeing them back together and happy would fill the space she had in her heart. By the time she reached the club, she was all geared up and ready to push him further. She stopped off at her office to put her bag and cup down, and immediately turned on her heels to head back down to the coaches office.

If there was one person he listened to - whether he truly wanted to or not - it was Rebecca. He’d respected her during her marriage to Rupert when it was more unusual to see her around, he respected her more following the split and divorce, he respected that she valued his opinion and honesty when he’d told her that she deserved to feel like she’d been struck by lightning. It was obvious, Roy Kent had a soft spot for Rebecca Welton and he didn’t really care who knew it. Which was why he knew full well that she was perfectly right when she’d given him shit about doing the press conference, and that she’d been digging at more than the press conference. He’d been feeling the pull back to Keeley since her video had hit the internet. He wanted to be the one she turned to, the one who could comfort her and tell her that it really didn’t matter what anyone else thought. If she’d sent that video to someone she’d loved at the time then it was within her rights to do so without fear of shame. He certainly hadn’t meant to shame her, he’d had a feeling that the video had been for Jamie. The way she had her hair, its length and highlights indicated a time before him, and he was perfectly fine with that. He wasn’t even sure why the question had tumbled out of his treacherous brain. He also didn’t blame Jamie, their 4am training session the following day had shown just how terrible he’d felt that he hadn’t thoroughly deleted his emails. Poor Jamie had been beside himself with guilt until Roy had suggested that he go and see Keeley to apologise in person, knowing that he’d be forgiven, and he was. The next 4am training session was a much happier one, with Jamie relieved that Keeley had accepted his apology. So although he could encourage Jamie to apologise, could tell Rebecca she deserved better, could offer snippets of advice to Ted (but not as a fucking diamond dog), he couldn’t seem to take the advice given to him. He hated admitting she was right, especially when it’s not like she was taking her own advice! He could see the way she’d softened around Ted. He could see the way she lit up in his presence, he’d heard enough from Keeley before their split about how he was all she seemed to talk about. He’d been at Nelson Road since leaving Jamie at 6am, alone with his thoughts in the near silent club. It was high time Blondie had another ‘lightning’ speech, he’d decided. While the building began to fill with people, he paced up and down the locker room. Half a mind on Keeley, half on Rebecca. By 8.30am he could take no more and burst through the door, aiming for the stairs. He reached the water cooler just as Rebecca reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Oi, blondie!”

“Oi, Kent!” They shouted in perfect unison. The combined volume caused all eyes in the vicinity to look at them.

Leslie and Keeley were at one end of the corridor, comparing calendars to try and schedule a meeting. Beard and Ted were at the other end, coffees in hand. Will was halfway out of the boot room and tried to step back into the room but got caught on the door handle. Jamie, Isaac and Moe all peered around the door of the locker room having seen Roy storm out moments before.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Rebecca bellowed.

“Me? What the fuck are you playing at?”

“I have no idea what you’re on about. Why haven’t you apologised to Keeley yet? I thought you’d absorbed what I said into your thick skull, but it looks like your brain has been so scrambled by heading that fucking football for the last 20 years that you’ve lost the capacity to think!”

“I did fucking listen to you, why don’t you listen to yourself for a change? ‘Oooh, Roy, stop getting in your own way, blah blah blah’ get out of your own way! Listen to your own shite advice!”

“You haven't listened to me! You never listen to me! If you had, you’d have spoken to Keeley and you’d be back together by now - that’s what you want isn’t it?”

“Course it fucking is, and I will fucking talk to her! We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you!”

“How are you making this about me? What the fuck has this got to do with me?”

“You and your bloody big feelings for Ted! We’re not blind you know! Everyone can see you’re in love with him!”

In an instant, you could hear a pin drop. Everyone seemed to shrink back into the walls and doorways. Rebecca’s knuckles on the handrail went white.

“How dare you. Too. Fucking. Far. Kent.” She hissed at a normal volume. The silence carried her response down the corridor. She gave his shoulder a push and turned away, back up the stairs. A moment later, her office door slammed.

“Fuuuuuck.” Roy muttered to himself. He glanced around at the audience which had gathered, eyes widening at the sight of Ted. "Fuck off, all of you before I start punching dicks." He growled before following her. In the hallway, Leslie cleared his throat and the crowd dispersed. Isaac pulled Jamie and Moe back into the locker room, Will untangled himself and went back into the boot room, Beard took Ted's shaking coffee cup from his hand and Keeley sat down on the sofa she and Leslie had been standing next to. After a moment, normal service seemed to resume and the corridor was once again filled with the chatter of ‘good mornings’ and ‘hellos’. Leslie gently patted Keeley’s arm and headed for his office, Beard physically pushed Ted in the direction of the locker room.

At the top of the stairs, Roy stopped and took a breath before knocking gently. As expected, Rebecca didn’t answer. He pushed the door open and found her sat on the sofa with her head in her hands.

“Rebecca?” he whispered, “I am so fucking sorry.” He dropped onto the coffee table which groaned a little under his weight. Rebecca took a deep breath and moved her hands. She offered him a small, watery smile and shrugged.

"It was bound to come out eventually. I'd have preferred a less… public declaration. And I'd have preferred to have had the conversation with Ted. At least he wasn't there. I'll just have to come clean before everyone starts gossiping."

"Yeah… about that…"

"No?" Her face fell.

"I'm so sorry, Rebecca. I'll go and tell him it was all me being a dickhead and that I made it all up."

"He won't believe you."

"I'll make him fucking believe me." Roy clenched his fists but Rebecca covered them with her own hands and shook her head.

"No you won't. Time for me to face the music. But the least you can do - the absolute least you can do - is talk to Keeley. I also spoke out of turn downstairs, she'll be expecting you."

"Yeah she will, but let's be honest, she's probably been expecting me for weeks." Rebecca nodded in confirmation.

"She has been. I'm surprised she hasn't collared you herself."

"Shall I… send him up?" A light knock interrupted them, and Ted peered around the half open door. "And on that note." Roy rose from the coffee table, kissing her on the cheek as he stood. He clapped Ted on the shoulder and pulled the office door closed behind him.

He stood completely still and completely silently, watching her. Noting the trainers on her feet.

"Did you walk to work today, boss?"

"Yes, I did. Seemed like a nice morning for it. In hindsight it just gave me time to get wound up at Roy which didn't work out as I'd expected it to."

"I like your sneakers. I like how you can't wait for your biscuits delivery. I like how you care so much about everyone. Keeley and Roy, Higgy, my Henry… I… I love how forthright and stubborn you are." He continued, still looking at her trainers, following them with his eyes as Rebecca had joined him in the centre of the room. "I love you." He finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, taking a hand and brushing the tears from her cheeks. "Is it true? Is Roy right?" He asked, barely above a whisper. She nodded, unable to speak. "I'd really like to kiss you, Becca." She nodded again, taking his hand in hers and pulling him closer. As he closed the space between them, she caught her breath just enough,

"I love you too, Ted."

—------------

#ted lasso #tedbecca #ted and rebecca #tedlassoedit #ted lasso tv #rebecca x ted #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction

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fearofahumanplanet · 2 years

Text

D.N.R. (short story by me)

I've been just venting with this blog lately and that's kinda cringe so I'm going to compensate by venting with a story instead, something I wrote a long time ago to help cope with my BPD and process it. I hope it can help someone understand people with this condition or help those with this condition find something to relate to or smth.

I'm okay right now, I'm just really proud of this story and wanted to actually share some of my work to maybe cope with how I've been feeling today better. I wrote this story a year or two ago and I'm doing a lot better now - I have a therapist, treatment, a small support system, etc. I don't want this story to prompt worry, I just want to share for anyone who needs it. It's dark, but it's how I heal.

TW: Suicide references/suicidal thoughts, self-harm, BPD symptoms & references to unstable relationships, light blood, self-hatred (lmk if I should add any more). If you're in a bad place, I would not advise reading this (unless raw emotion like this helps you personally).

General Taglist: @aohendo, @athenswrites, @impaledlotus, @bardic-tales, @carefulpyro

I live my life in a waiting room.

I wait, they wait, we all wait. It’s supposed to bring us together. It’s supposed to make some sort of fucking team out of us. That’s the funny thing about people, really. You could glue us together, and we’d tear ourselves in half just to get away.

Don’t take that as a criticism free of hypocrisy.

With that thought in mind, I can only thank the heartless gods above for sentencing me solace, over and over and over, and I’ve never been so compliant and happy with a decision I loathe and regret.

My name doesn’t matter, never has. I’m a therapist of sorts. Real funny, I know – People can always tell, even past the pessimism that drenches every word, the agoraphobic misanthrope at my core.

You wouldn’t think I’d manage it, but it’s fascinating, how far you can get with a broken smile.

I mean, it’s a broken smile – Of course it’s a lie. Of course it’s a fallacy, of course it’s forced, fit for a fiend. But no one’s noticed yet. That’s the strength of a well-timed joke, one calculated mask. You hide everything you are, and you find something that’s real likeable. A real people person, someone sent to save.

And I save. Some days, I don’t feel I can manage that, but they tell me so. In this room of four walls, of a blank floor and ceiling, of nothing but a clean, inviting chair – I find the writings on the walls, the notes in the margins, little hopes from the haughty heavens.

You’re not alone. You are loved. You are valuable. You save so many. You are funny. You never run out of things to say. You are loved. You have saved lives. You have redeemed every sin. You are loved. You know how to bring a smile. You aren’t going to die alone. You won’t ever be alone again.

The angels of my idyllic fantasies surround me, chanting, touching, holding.

You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.

And every day, I remember to stop slamming my head into the wall with every recitation. Every day, I lean down low, where all is familiar. I soak the blood in my fingers, let it run down the skin, let it fill out the cracks in my psyche. And when it’s all buried, when it’s all swept out of sight…

I slap on my broken smile, and greet the droves devouring.

It’s another broken woman, meek behind a mismatched mask. Her smile is broken, and I’m the only one who sees. They never mean to find their way to me, but they do.

It’s the same game every bloody time. I say hello. They say hello. They wonder how I got here. I just tell them I have a knack for showing where I’m needed. They don’t think about it. They never think. They don’t even know who I really am, my mask a memorable masterpiece. It’s always small talk at first. Music, video games. They tell me they don’t understand, my compassion, my kindness, my understandings. I shrug, and flash another humble, hollow smile.

Why wouldn’t I be this way, I say. Every damn time. I never need to adjust the script. There are no plot holes to cover, no rusted gears. The system grinds on without deviation.

I try not to let them in. I try to keep them above surface level, make sure they only meet the mask. It never works, but I’m going to try again. Spin the hamster wheel.

It’s not that I wish to keep them away, you see. I’m only an isolationist by incident, a misanthrope by mistake, a pariah by punishment. I’m sick, hopelessly sick. It seeps out from beneath my skin, hiding behind my sunken eyes, lurking under my serpent tongue. I try to swallow it down, treasure the venom. No one needs to know, no one that doesn’t already. No one I’ve yet to fail.

And this woman, like every one before her, she doesn’t know a thing about me. But the venom is alluring, and I know everything about her. I see it in her lying eyes, and she breaks down and spills her guts out on the floor. I just mop them up and listen, cradle her when she cries, pet her hair when she can’t spit out any more. And I just smile and embody the angels.

It will be all right. You are loved. You are not alone. There is someone out there for you. You will not die alone. You are loved. No one is beyond redemption. No one is without hope.

And I can say every word with absolute belief, every scene in my script without error. I have had thousands of years to practice, and I will have thousands more.

This next bit always happens. Actually, I could say that about everything here, but this I resent the most. She thanks me, and tells me she’ll be back tomorrow. I smile and tell her I’d love that. She says she will never abandon me.

I keep the smile on, let loose no levity. And I tell her, like I told all the others. These things never last. She will grow to hate me, and I tell her so. She will grow to loathe the mere thought of me, and I tell her so. She will grow to rue my name, to curse the ground I walk on, to panic and stab and burn until there is nothing left of me before her.

And I tell her so.

And without a waver, taking no time for hesitation, she just says she’s not like the others. That she isn’t going anywhere, this time. That there is hope this time. And not once she wonders why the theoretical therapist is the one breaking down every fucking night. Why would she? It’s all out of sight.

And she’s gone, away from me, and I know she will spend every minute thinking about me. And I know I will spend every one of those minutes regretting them.

This pariah paces her pen, praying for a pale horse.

The silence overwhelms. The silence snuffs, the silence sneaks in when you think you’ve found a sure fate.

I contemplate, turn and roll over in mud and dirt. The day slips away, and night nuzzles in. I think about my newest woman. I have seen it happen so many times, over thousands of years, hundreds and hundreds of times.

But I am naught but a full circle, and I allow myself hope again. I allow myself one more forsaken breath.

The silence slips down low, rejuvenating my venom, strengthening my sickness. I try to eat, and I vomit it up, hoping my heart will come up with it. The thought is fast and sudden, just like that. It no longer shocks, no longer ignites alarm. I cannot fathom concern.

I rock back and forth in the dark, empty room. I put on one of countless records, watch movies of malicious murder and horrific hatred, write another story no one will ever read. I pace the room, I kick the walls, I scream my lungs out to the tune of my favourite song. With every meaningless minute, I forget myself. With every severed second, I lose track.

And it always hits me, every night, the same sudden thought, the same onset of dread. Isn’t that funny?

Every night, I feel I’ve lost my mind.

I can’t lose it over and over, of course. It must have left me long ago. But if I’m going to lose my mind, couldn’t it take all of its malignant maladies with it?

The second thought is always the same too. This fate feels like forever.

And that’s even sillier than the first. Of course it’s forever. It will always be forever. There is no escape.

There is a third thought. Don’t worry, this is the last one, and it too, happens every night.

It’s that this thought should be the last one.

So, I make it so. I take the knife, and I try to find out what makes me tick, scout out a new avenue, plot out some new elaborate method I have yet to attempt. Every night, that is how I go, cradling the knife like a stuffed teddy, showering myself in a bottle of vodka, popping my pills like candy.

I find every way to numb my nagging nuisance of a mind, and it still keeps coming. Because I know, deep down, this new hope is nothing new. It is a resurgence, a repetition of centuries past. It is a false flare, a lost lighthouse. And I swim and I swim, even as I tell myself to sink. And every night, I do. I sink, drenched in my own blood, seeping out through freshly torn slits, the aroma of alcohol affecting every word I regret. I spend minutes debating, searching, no inch of skin untarnished.

It comes to something when you run out of room for scars.

I’ll say not a word, not to the aiding angels, not to the compassionate client. I am alone, I have always been and always will be. I was born and thrown away without the aid of another, abandoned with abject apathy, and I am content with my lot.

I am not content because I am happy, but I am content for I know there is nothing better.

Sometimes, if I’m particularly unlucky, the angels will hover in, finding my bloodstained, drunken corpse stretched out across the floor. They will tug the bottles from my hands, hide the knife somewhere else, knowing I will find it again. I am determined, I am without limit, waning in this war simply for a will without want.

If they’re there, they always tell me. I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am of worth. I am of benefit. I have saved. I have redeemed. I am not alone.

The angels smile around me, fading with every flicker of the candle. They are real, but they don’t know a thing. They are so far away, holding me to their chests.

They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved.

They need me. They can’t live without me. They can’t. They can’t imagine a world without me.

It’s a shame I have proven to be so uselessly useful. It is a shame I have found a way to chain worthy souls to my empty body. It is a shame I always manage to find a new person to save, when I can’t even save myself.

It is a shame they can’t imagine a world without me, because I no longer want to imagine a world with me.

Every time I die, I fear at the fall. Not for my soul, for the promise of hell is a welcome relief. Not for the ones left behind, because I know they’re better off without.

And every night, I write it on my neck, over a thousand purple scars.

D.N.R.

Instructions no one will abide by. I hope they do this time. I hope they abide. I hope they forget. I hope they respect.

Tonight is like every night. I pass away and fall, embrace the empty, find there is nothing beyond the void, realize the devil below or the salvation above are simply manufactured dreams.

There is nothing, and I am nothing.

Every morning, air ambushes my ambivalence. I remember to live again, remember I have a job to do. I roll out of bed, stitch the wounds, pry shattered glass loose of skin. I feel for my heart without hope, and see with no amount of surprise that beats once more.

I loom over the mirror, and search the dirtied floor for my abandoned broken smile.

I stitch on my savior’s smile.

And I meet the woman again, the name of who matters not. They orbit my ouroboros, like every one before her, and they are identical in naught but function.

Like all the others before her, I embody her anchor. She comes to me, day in, day out. She sees the fresh scars and beating bruises, but I tell her to worry not. I reassure her with promises and encourage, and I get closer and closer.

And every time I learn to love again, I forget why I chose to let that knowledge go.

The longer we lay together, the less she’s convinced. As weeks whistle by, I have to let my mask slip, loose my serpent’s tongue. The venom crawls down her skin, and I can see what I am doing, but I am too selfish to care. With every drop, my scars and sins come clearer in view, like blurred photographs rendered in clarity.

And I can see her eyes break with every passing month, but I am too selfish to care, too lonely and lost to let her go.

I tell her of the ocean, of my wistful love for the waves. I tell her of beaches, of abyssal depths only I know. I tell her I will take there, I tell her I will never let her go. And I know I never will.

And with my hand in hers, every longing lie is a cross easier to bear. My will wears away with every passing night. Every moon, I re-iterate my instruction.

D.N.R.

Because maybe they’ll listen.

D.N.R.

Maybe someone above will practice mercy.

D.N.R.

And with all this hate I’ve spread, this venom I’ve made a virus, you’d think one victim would find a way to strike me down.

Tonight, months into this ouroboros, she joins the angels, the hundreds of angels. She is still solid yet, not like them, fading and translucent, hazy and flickering. She has found me with a fallen mask, met me in my correct configuration.

I always want to tell them not to lean on me. Because when they do, I lean on them, and I know the disease will spread.

But she joins the angels, like all the real ones did before, pleading with me, making me promises I know will fade away. She fails to see them around her, crowding, begging.

I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am valuable. I am of worth. I am helpful. I am funny. I am the highlight of your day. I am clever. I am insightful. I am a blessing.

And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying.

And I wish you fucking knew that.

And I beg her not to leave me, as the blood fills my lungs. And she says she never will.

Not like every love before her, not like every ally before her, not like my mother before her, not like my home before her.

And the promise is a cushion, even as I know she’ll change her mind. But I hold onto hope. Because that’s what the angels tell me every day.

There is hope. No one is beyond saving. You still have time.

Time is not a comfort. Time is a sentence. Time is the promise of life. Time is something I do not wish to handle.

And I scream out every one of these words, roar out many more.

Because when the mask falls, I am the venom. I am sick, I am violent, I am overcome, I am lashing out.

And no matter how hard I try, I find no healthy option to shuttle it all away.

How do you help someone hidden away in the waiting room? How do you help someone buried from birth, silenced from the start?

Why do they tell me they want to hear my words, when every single letter leaves a scar?

I am never alone. My shadow hangs over me, and it never leaves me a moment’s peace.

And so I die again, choking on my own poisonous bile.

This is not the first incident the woman sees. It happens again, two weeks later. Again, four days after. Again, two days after. Again, three hours after.

Because once the mask drops, I can never seem to find it again, and I fail to dig up another broken smile.

The sickness wears on her, paling her skin, bags beneath her eyes, cold resignation beneath more and more words. And I have seen it happen a thousand times, and I cannot help but remind her that it is my fault she grows sick. I remind her that I am at fault for my contagious nature.

And it takes so long. It takes months, and months. But she finally lets go.

I hold her all night long, and we talk of the ocean. I hold her, and she tells me of the places we’ll go, and the things we will see. And I dream of broken promises.

I dream of the ocean.

I wake up, and she is gone.

I scream and I thrash, and I drench her side of the bed with my blood.

The sun comes and goes without care, hidden out of sight. I shiver and vomit, cradling my broken body, tracing every well-deserved scar. And I wake up dead that morning, once more, routine inescapable.

I stare my newest angel in the eyes, pale and flickering like the rest, a ghost to the reasonable soul.

A mangled memory.

I am loved. I am needed. I am wanted. I am helpful. I am clever. I am helpful. I am a blessing. I am-

I shoot the angel, knowing she will return, knowing the ghosts of my criminal past are this pariah’s penance. I take another drink, gulp down another pill, come up with another broken smile.

I know not whether this will ever end. But this is my lot in life, and I have learned to welcome my lonely road.

I hear the chime of the bell, another clueless client, the ouroboros coiling anew.

I consider my options, consider the dead woman, staring back at me from the mirror with empty eyes.

And I know I will keep fighting. I know this is a war I will always wage. It is not out of want, nor out of will. Not out of spite. Not out of hope, not out of hate. Not out of love.

I stand up again, and again, and again, because I have nothing left to fear. I continue to fight because there is no terror found in a predictable cycle, no horror in a novel with a spoiled ending. To want to live, to want to die, I’d have to care.

And if I cared, I’d collapse under the weight of every single thing I’ve ever done.

So I stare down these sunken, apathetic eyes, resigned in their duty. I carve the instructions in my forehead once again. Not out of hope, but out of habit.

D.N.R.

Do not resuscitate.

Maybe one of these days, lightning will strike.

If not, I am content with waiting.

#writing #writeblr #bpd #vent story #short story #personal work #old shite from my archive #it's a lot better than i remember

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lonelyvomit · 2 years

Note

Dear Abby,

about age crisis. I turned 34 a few days ago and it’s very scary because it’s only one year away from the ACTUAL SCARY age which is 35. My birthday is in August so my age crisis lasts through every summer 🙃

The thing is that I’m big at putting schedules and deadlines on myself because otherwise I get nothing done. I gave myself an ultimatum to get in to university before I turned 25 and I did, then to graduate with masters before I turned 30 and I did. Last year my resolution was to get a job after six months of unemployment and I did, you get the drill.

Now, I haven’t been dating anyone in over nine years. Last time I dated I was 24 and it was this on guy from uni who I didn’t even like but I figured that maybe I don’t have to like the person I’m dating, you know, because you constantly see couples that are having arguments or not seem to care that much about each other and they still make it work somehow, so apparently love is not needed at all right? :)

The guy I was dating kept constantly picking me and pointing out my flaws. I should lose weight, I shouldn’t focus on my studies so much (when I had just got into uni after years of trying and it was the biggest dream come true I’ve ever had), how I should go to therapy to stop being introvert and became “normal” like him, how I was terrible company when I was sick, how I was disappointing him when I had to go sleep early to be able to get up and go to work because I had to finance my studies somehow (he still lived at home and didn’t progress in his studies at all that I know of) and how I should stop apologizing constantly after he’d spent a nice evening walk together listing everything that was wrong with me. And I still thought that maybe he is right. That I should just change everything I am and have ever been so I could be lovable.

In the end I found my figurative balls and dumped him after listening to that crap for FIVE months. I was about to turn 25 and I promised myself that after going through that shitstorm I could go for the next ten years without trying to pursue a relationship and do what I want: get my degree, travel, party, all that without anyone restricting me.

But I did put another deadline fo myself: I’d be in a relationship when I turn 35. Because ten years is SUCH a long time, right? Now it’s less than a year. And I’m freaking out, because I keep thinking that most likely I won’t meet anyone before my next birthday, or never, or even worse, meet someone like my ex.

Otherwise I wouldn’t maybe give a shit, but 35 is also very much the age when I have to make the final decision if I ever want to try for biological children or not. But if I’m not in a stable relationship by then, there is no decision to make. And I really don’t know.

Thanks to this and all other ✨stuff✨ going on in my head I did seek professional help some time ago. I was guided to an online therapist. Their hot take was “why don’t you just try not to think about things that make you upset” :)

Sorry for this essay. You don’t have to answer or post it if you don’t want to. I just needed to pour my thoughts somewhere and you’re possibly the most kind and understanding and non-judgmental person I’ve ever had the fortune to know. I really hope you’re having a good day 💐🖤

Lots of love, Bec

🫂 I assume that guy from uni is long gone out of your life but ngl I hold grudges and I'm more than willing to take my cactus to meet him 😌

I can definitely see self-made deadlines and goals being good motivators and I hope you feel proud of the ones you've reached! but they do get counterintuitive when you realize you might miss one - and tbh idk anyone who's life is so perfect they can breeze through it exactly like they planned (ok maybe like millionaire kids but like. out of us normal people lol), so I feel like that disappointment comes to everyone at one point or another. and I can see why this is a big one when the question of kids is on the table too, but I'm also happy you know better than try to settle for someone like the last guy.

of course I hope you find your perfect match within the next year just cus you deserve someone who makes you happy, but even more so I hope you get to a place where you wont be too upset if you don't. sure, the question of biological kids is there, but the entire question of parenthood is not. there's ways later on when you find the right person, and I mean if the biological thing is really important, you can still consider getting your eggs frozen or something (idk how expensive or complicated that shit is so maybe an unrealistic idea but I'm throwing it in there anyway). having experienced everything you have thanks to not having a family to raise early on is gonna make you a kick-ass mom one day if you want to become one. 🖤

also I'm going to bite your online therapist in the unsexiest way possible.

you're the sweetest, you're doing amazing, I love you, you've got this babe 🖤

#asks

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adulting-sucks · 2 years

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Uh, sorry for what I'm about to dump on you. Skip if you want, nbd. Making this as...PG as I can.

I got married over five years ago, and my partner is still my best friend but I am not in love with them anymore. I'm not sure I ever was, at least, in the traditional sense because I didn't really give a shit about marriage, etc.

I've always been really open about how important I find sex to a relationship, and I expressed concern before my wedding that...well, all that had kinda died out. I mean nothing for months. No kissing. Barely a compliment. And I'm still over there forking out thousands of dollars to prove to their parents that God blesses our fucking union or whatever.

Living in sin?! Bitch, we ain't living in anything at this point. Where's the pulse?

My partner promised that they thought about it a lot, and for a tiny bit, I felt heard. I knew it was a struggle for them. I respected that.

No sex on the honeymoon. Once in the first year of marriage. They actually said to me on our one-year anniversary "it's a two-way street," and I just about killed someone right then and there.

By year five, four times, total, all initiated by me, and I feel ridiculous and ugly and unloveable. I've begged for counseling, I've been understanding of all their other shit for so long, and last week, my personal therapist told me I deserve intimacy and to feel wanted.

And I. broke. down.

How is this my fucking life? Why can't I have someone who wants me like an actual partner? My life and body are actually withering away right in front of me, and if I do anything about it, I'm the desperate, perverted asshole. I'm the bitch in any scenario. I miss when I loved myself except I can't imagine I ever did if this is what I chose.

And there's my story. That's how the "number one" relationship in my life is going.

Thank christ for the anon button.

I am so, so sorry you’re put in this situation. Sex is definitely important, even if it’s just for the emotional connection or the closeness to the person that professes to love you.

I’ve been sitting here typing and deleting cause my last relationship was a lot of this. But I also wasn’t in love with my ex, nor had I dealt with my past trauma. But, my loss of love had everything to do with the fact that I’d been cheated on for pretty much the entire relationship. But that is neither here nor there.

I know it’s hard and no one wants to be the bad person, but you deserve happiness, you deserve someone who fulfills that physical need also. You’ve dealt with this for five+ years, and now you blame yourself.

Your therapist is right. You deserve happiness. And if that happiness is with someone else, then I hope you find it. If that happiness comes back around with your current spouse, I hope you fall back in love.

I hope you realize that you are amazing, you deserve good things, and no matter what, you do have people pulling for you. I hope part of finding new love is also finding a way to love yourself. I think humans in general struggle with this concept, but I hope you find what you want and need.

I’m sorry you’re going through this, I’m sorry you feel less than what you’re worth, and my inbox is always open if you need anything.

#I’m sorry #you’re worth it #you deserve happiness

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barnabyjr · 2 years

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obligatory info dump on my life rn

it’s the end of summer so you know what that means: time for me to update y’all on my life and write it all down so i know what the fuck is going on lol. i have been BUSY but it’s all coming out millhouse

-so i got a promotion and a raise! i’m officially a lead teacher now but that means more days, hours, and responsibilities so your girl is gonna be s t r e s s e d and trying to adjust to a new schedule and age group

-i’m on track to graduate in december, only have three classes left.it has been years (five including my year off to teach) and i am so ready to quietly get my degree and be able to say that i did it. i don’t want to have a graduation ceremony but my therapist thinks it’s important?

-dating the himbo again but he’s actually done a lot of growing up? we’re developing something real now and exclusive?? i want things to work out but the universe and everyone in my life is telling me that they won’t and i’m trying to just enjoy our time together and not fall in love w him cause he’s let me down so many times. it’s nice getting to call a hot guy my bf but it doesn’t feel like he is lol

-but that means i am ready to be loved !! now that my life is on track and i’m getting my shit together and i’ve healed from all the abusive dudes i’ve dated, soon i’ll be ready to find someone different who will treat me right ! in the words of my grandma, i would like a big time romance (btr stans rise up) with someone who wants something serious. i’d love that w the himbo, but i don’t think he could give me what i deserve. so i decided in january i will stop giving attention to ppl who hurt me and i’ll start looking for someone to take care of my damaged lil heart cause lord knows i’m the only one who has

-going to get my license by the end of the year (been saying this forever, but i’m tired of getting carded and pulling out my permit oof). guys i’m actually gonna do it i swear

-i’m moving into my old room !! i will have a WINDOW, a DESK, and reliable AC. i am so damn happy. i’ve been in a makeshift room for five years and it absolutely destroyed my mental health but i’ve got a sibling moving out so i get a real room again. v stoked obviously

-went through a mental breakdown in the spring, finally feeling healed from it. sh issues flared up worse than ever but i haven’t done anything in months and have no desire to. i’m in a much better headspace and only getting better. very excited to be happy :)

-i want to be creative again !! i’ve been writing (shocker) even for hphm (bigger shocker) and working on making content. i won’t have as much free time this semester with work and school but i’ve found this blog to be a good stress relief from those stresses

-i love and appreciate all of you who follow me, thank you for liking my sporadic content and always encouraging me to make more <3 y’all are the ones that keep this alive

tldr: i’m thriving bitch !!

#diary entry #number 876543456 #seriously though i'm feeling good and being good

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bluesmason · 21 days

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15 questions, 15 friends 🌟

thank you for tagging me bffs @masonreds @saltyheartnightmare

1. are you named after anyone? nope, my parents basically just liked the name and went with it lmao!

2. when was the last time you cried? watched marley and me on the weekend iykyk 🥺

3. do you have kids? nope! and i hope i never will <3

4. what sports do you play/have played? i played football for a season when i was about 6 only to realise that i hate being part of a club 😣 then i did track and field athletics for a few years and now i just play tennis but i’ve been doing that since i was 6 aswell so i love it :’)

5. do you use sarcasm? most of what i say is sarcastic (think that’s why i’m not too liked by some people here lmao) 🌟

6. what is the first thing you notice about people? their hair or eyes probably or just how they behave like i love seeing people’s facial expeessions and body language!

7. what is your eye color? blue with a bit of green ☘️💙

8. scary movies or happy endings? i love both!

9. any talents? i can’t think of anything so maybe i don’t have any 😣

10. where were you born? in a smaller city in the south of austria… about 30 minutes away from the red bull ring for all the f1 fans hehe 🌟

11. what are your hobbies? music, football, travelling and going to concerts 🥹

12. do you have any pets? i do 😌 sir benjamin button, who might actually be quite well known on here since i post him all the time on my sideblog and he’s been a special feature guest in one of miss @carlottawllms’ fics 🐈🌟

13. how tall are you? 1,74cm so quite a tall girlie!

14. favorite subject at school? english and psychology 🫡 english mostly bc since growing up bilingual i never had to actually pay attention or study for that and psych… i think my teacher was the best ever and she made me want to study it in uni too!

15. dream job? therapist or if we’re talking “could do what i want no matter how little it pays” i’d say working in an animal shelter… or be mason’s wag of course 😌

i don’t even have 15 friends and i feel like all my mutuals on here have been tagged so i don’t know ugh help 😣 tagging @mountsmase @mountttmase @carlottawllms @raremasey even though they might’ve done it already!

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neverluckygoldfish · 3 months

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45 -

Warning: I got a lot to say (as usual).

I got married!! Again. Hehe, finally had our weekend we booked two years ago. It was absolutely stunning. But it was a lot. Can we normalize not wanting a big wedding or even a wedding at all? Can we normalize wedding anxiety? Can we normalize dreading big events?

Can everyone just understand that I had a difficult childhood so big intense emotions are terrifying for me and I usually use alcohol/drugs to tamp it down so I can still experience them, albeit distantly. Not excusing, just explaining.

Also - hello this shit is expensive! And we had a frugal wedding.

In the sense that, as a bride, I feel like I should be all sparkles in my eyes and over the moon and dancing on a rainbow - but really, it was my nightmare. My ADHD was in overdrive & the whole weekend felt like a blackout. Reading personal intimate vows in front of people? No thank you lol. Having all eyes on me? I’ll pass. Feeling immense pressure to have ONE perfect day? I’d rather crack.

But I did it anyway. I’m glad I did. And I did all the super emotionally intense parts, sober as a priest. Yay!

Some positives: I’m so lucky to have people who will travel just to celebrate with me. My mom made a speech…it was poetic & very sweet. She described me as “radiant, effervescent, and vivacious”. Like?????? :) I love a good vocabulary.

Umm my stepdad made a speech and he was a freaking VIBE. We haven’t always gotten along but he loves my mom fiercely & is so supportive of her. So I can’t really fault the guy, even if sometimes I’m just like *points to head* “wtf is going on up there?”. I also got some quality time with my extended family, whom I rarely see. They flew over two oceans and two continents just to be with me for this day! Like how amazing is that. :)

The whole night looked like something out of a fairytale with a bohemian theme and fairy lights. Turqoiuse waters & perfect white sand. It was dreamy and picturesque and beautiful.

On top of that, I have friends in all places - I’m not really a one group friend. So it’s a little unnerving to have everyone come together (Will they get along? Will there be drama? Will it be awkward? Will I be so focused on everyone else’s experience that I forget to enjoy my own? LOL but really)

But it was so so much better than I could have ever imagined. We all had a blast!

Speaking OF sobriety, yeah we broke that shit. I had my first alcoholic drink in almost 5 months. Now, those of the I bleed AA variety would freak out because yes, I relapsed. And omg haven’t I read the big book that says I can never ever ever have a drink again? What will Bill think? /s

But hear me out: I discussed my choice to drink with my therapist prior to actually doing it. I had a support system and a harm reduction plan in place. And, I’ve been doing a LOT of work in the last few months to identify, forgive, heal myself & limiting beliefs/negative thought patterns. Ya know, the ones that I used alcohol and drugs to cope with. I’m not anywhere close to where I’d like to be but I’m a hell of a lot farther away from who I used to be.

As my therapist put it: “It seems like this is a symbolic decision for you. Kind of like a “fuck you I am in charge of my life & I can make my own decisions and I don’t care what anyone else thinks”. She’s not wrong.

BUT BUT BUT here’s the best part! Yes I drank, however all it did was remind me of how shitty alcohol actually feels. I don’t miss the hangovers one bit. I enjoy feeling semi-stable in my emotional sense. I like feeling clear headed. Also drinking a lot makes you bloated and more susceptible to gaining extra weight. We want to be snatched always!!!!

I am going back to my life with no intention or desire to drink. No desperate wanting to escape. How freaking wild. Now what works for me may not work for anyone else - but again, sobriety & recovery are so unique to everyone. Everyone’s story starts from the same feelings, but recovery is not a one size fits all.

With all of that being said - I feel super good these days. Not in like a manic & overstimulated way, but a sort of quiet peace that comes with feeling like I am really loving myself for all that I have been, all that I am, and all that I will be.

I want to live my life & the idea of all the things I can do is exciting now. I no longer feel (constantly) like I’m drudging through the monotony of life. I know bad days will come. So will good days. Slowly but surely, I am creating new habits that take me further from my past and closer to the light of my future.

I came to the realization that who fucking cares? The world and the people in my life (though with the best of intentions) will tell me who they think I should be. Will tell me how to fit the mold. But I don’t care about fitting the mold anymore. I don’t want to apologize for having needs and existing. I have people who love all the little bits of me and have always loved them, despite my inner critic telling me I have to earn it.

I decide who I am.

I mean, there’s tons of awful fucking people in the world, who are still loved by someone. Like even Hitler had his main squeeze til the final breath. If that’s any consolation lol.

And just from a nerdy math perspective… statistically speaking, there are 8B+ people in the world. If 10 don’t like me or don’t get me, theres 10 more that do!

I trust my inner She to guide me to where I want to be and to attract the people that I need. These days I have faith.

Each day a little better and brighter.

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tabswrites · 10 months

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21. when did you start considering yourself a writer/artist? 24. you have/want a career in your medium? If not, what do you do/want to do instead? 26. What are your favourite books?

Thanks for the ask!

From the Writer/Artist Ask Game:

21. When did you start considering yourself a writer/artist?

I’d say when I started getting super into online RP. I was up until midnight most nights, coming up with crazy plots or doing messed up things to my OCs. It’s the first time I actually enjoyed writing and felt like I was good at it.

24. Do you have/want a career in your medium? If not, what do you do/want to do instead?

I’m just a housekeeper right now :( until I finish my teaching degree. I’d love to write full time, or even get into publishing one day, but for now my main long term goal is to eventually teach creative writing.

26. What are your favorite books?

I’ll just pick my top five (as of right now). I swear I read cooler things I just have a lot of nostalgia for these:

1. Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead (series). I read these books in middle school and they helped me understand my depression better than most therapists. I have a VA tattoo in honor of that.

2. Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan (OG series, not including the sequels). I will love these books until I die.

3. Just One Year by Gayle Forman. It’s a sequel to Just One Day (which is also good) and for some reason I just really love it. It’s the only romance oriented book that I’ve been able to connect with.

4. Grendel by John Gardner. I read it for my English class in high school and it was my first experience with complex philosophical concepts. I adore his writing style.

5. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Ignoring the fact that the author is…questionable, some of my favorite literary quotes come from this book. I also have fond memories of my high school English teacher hating me for writing an essay that insinuated Nick was in love with Gatsby (think about it).

#writer ask game #ask games #answered asks #tess talks

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burningthetree · 1 year

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hello my darling jules ✨!!

for the end of year asks *unfurls scroll* I would to hear you thoughts on *cleare throat, adjusts monocle*

general: 9, 11, 17

summarize the year: 4

art: 2, 7

looking forward: 7

I realize that’s a lot of questions so you don’t have to answer all of them!! just the ones you want to!! sending you all the love and hugging you so tight 💖

Ah Evie I love you!! Sending you so so many hugs back <3 ramblings are under the cut as per usual lmao

General

9. How would you describe your fashion sense this year?

Chaotic lol. I’m the person to either show up in heels, skirt, and coat, or in ripped jeans, black combat boots, black leather jacket. There’s literally no in-between. I can and will do both. So…versatile maybe? And also I just wear whatever I’m in the mood for and judge on how comfortable something is so I don’t know I don’t have a fashion sense I’m a clown 😭

11. What's one new thing you learned this year?

I don’t know exactly how I learned it, or if it’s considered learning per se but I always carried a lot of internalised homophobia with me for like years on end but I’ve learned to fully embrace it and be okay with being gay, also with the help of my wonderful therapist <3 like at some point this year it just clicked, I can’t pinpoint it. So I guess what I learned is love and embrace yourself the way you are and don’t put unnecessary stones in your path yourself. (Of course I realise in practice it’s not that easy.) Is this too deep?

17. What would you tell the you from the beginning of this year?

It’s gonna be shit, but you’re gonna get through it and you’re gonna get the help you need and deserve to get better and you will learn how to get better and manage your triggers and there’s going to be many good things too.

Summarise the year in…

…one album: The Anastasia musical purely because I’ve been listening to it the entire goddamn year without fail so I’d be a fake if I did not put it here.

…one song: “I’ve no more fucks to give” by Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq. and I don’t mean this in a negative way at all. Just that at some point I stopped caring less about things I couldn’t control, and that I learned to accept it (I still struggle with it but way less than before). It’s a very humorous song and a whole vibe, highly recommend lol

One song lyric: “you can reclaim your crown” from King by Lauren Aquilina. The song is very self explanatory so I’m not going to also because I’m too selfconscious talking about that here lol

Art

2. Describe your experience making art this year in one word.

Cathartic.

7. What project did you work the hardest on this year?

My fic safe and warm. I started planning it in March and am 60k in now with no end in sight, I’ve drawn multiple maps, multiple family trees, and written multiple outlines and character backgrounds that took me a lot of time.

Looking forward

7. What would you like to tell or ask your future self one year from now?

I would tell my future self that I’m proud of them for holding on. I’ve actually been sending myself emails to the future on my birthday each year to receive on my next birthday where I tell myself exactly that. Thank you for holding on to life. (The email service is called FutureMe if you’re interested.)

And I’d ask my future self if I’ll be okay. If the answer is yes, great. If the answer is no, well that would only mean that I’d have to work on myself for a little longer. And that’s okay, because we’re all a work in progress.

#asks #evie #big love you!!#positive self-reflection is so so necessary #especially if times were rough because it forces you to focus on the good parts

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

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Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes.

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

*****************

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow.

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh.

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing. So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”

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