#angry at self for being angry at self and instead wanting to be indifferent like I’d practiced

[priest-iuput]

Sick with anticipation. Just when you think it’s four blocks behind you… it sneaks through the shady lane and chokes you, still from behind

And so very pathetic is the reason

Hey now

#angry at self for ‘allowing’ it to do this? #yes #though also #angry at self for being angry at self and instead wanting to be indifferent like I’d practiced #iuput

[sunkissed-zegras]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄? ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "Omg a fic where Paige and reader have always had this sort of sarcastic bickering borderline mean type of relationship/rivalry but one day the tension suddenly just goes from competitive to sexual and thennnnm ykkkk"

─ word count | 3.7k

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! whoo, where do i begin???? paige/reader being a fucking ASSES (like super mean) and lots of insecurity, cc mention and comparison (pls don't come 4 me it's for the plot!!!!!! i didnt mean it!!!!), lots of arguing and fighting, mean!paige (like.... im talking MEAN), fingering (r receiving), so much dirty talk, idk if i missed anything lmk

─ ev's notes | the chokehold the pic in the middle has on me IS INSANE, also finishing a smut at 11 am should be a crime 😭 (but i’m feeding yall so be grateful)

THE GAME COULDN'T have gone worse.

The opposing team seemed to effortlessly dominate every aspect of the game. Shots that normally found their mark clanked off the rim, passes were intercepted with unnerving frequency, and the defense resembled more of a sieve than a fortress. Your entire team was quiet in the locker-room and Geno had told them that they needed the night to regroup, and they'll talk about it when they got home.

You made your way upstairs with Azzi and Aubrey, both trying their best to make you feel better. You played like shit, plain and simple and despite what your teammates were telling you, it was true.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of letting your team down. In the game, you were a shadow of your usual self. Your shots seemed to lack both the usual power and precision. Your attempts to drive to the basket were easily thrown by their defense, leaving you frustrated and angry.

Even your usually reliable defense broke under the pressure. You found yourself out of position more often than not, leaving gaping holes for the opposing team to exploit. Your reactions were slow, your movements sluggish, as if your body refused to respond to the commands of your mind.

"Hey," Azzi grabbed your arm so that you could meet her gaze. "We win and lose as a team, alright? This isn't all on you, we all played like shit tonight."

"But we always come back, Y/N." Aubrey added as you met her gaze as well. Their words would've made you feel better if this wasn't the worst you'd played all season, maybe even your entire college career.

You didn't bother to respond, you stayed quiet as you walked in your Azzi's hotel room and in there was Nika and Paige. They were seated on the bed, Nika looking more defeated than Paige, she looked more pissed than anything.

Paige didn't even acknowledge you as you walked in as she greeted Azzi and Aubrey, but you didn't even care right now. You were not in the mood for her shit, not after the game you just played tonight.

You sank into a chair in the corner of the room, the weight of the defeat pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. Nika's defeated expression mirrored your own feelings, while Paige's indifference grated on your already frayed nerves.

You listened as Azzi and Aubrey exchanged small talk with Nika and Paige, their voices a distant murmur in the back of your mind. But you couldn't bring yourself to join in the conversation, couldn't muster the energy to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything was okay.

Instead, you sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts. The events of the game replayed in your mind like a nightmare, each mistake magnified in the harsh light of hindsight. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the game, to push it to the back of your mind and move on, but the sting of defeat lingered like a stubborn stain.

"You okay, babe?" Nika's voice rang out as you got pulled back into reality. All the girls attention was now on you, feeling a bit self-conscious.

You forced a weak smile, attempting to brush off Nika's concern. "Yeah, just... processing everything, you know?" Your voice sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

"What's going on?" Nika asked, the concern evident in her face. "Talk to us, please, Y/N."

Nika knew how hard you were on yourself, she had seen you weather victories and defeats alike, always striving for perfection. Her gentle prodding encouraged you to open up, even if it meant admitting your own vulnerabilities.

"I played like shit," was all you could get out as you leaned forward, feeling their gaze on you. "I don't know what was so different about tonight but I just felt like the weight of the entire team was on my back and I didn't know I was carrying it until the end, and I just crumbled to the pressure."

"We all have our moments, Y/N." Azzi spoke up, empathy evident in her expression. But before anyone else could respond, Paige scoffed as she met your gaze.

"Carried the team? We all did what we could tonight and we don't need your shit." Paige's voice dripped with contempt, her words like a slap in the face.

You felt a surge of anger rising within you, fueled by the frustration of the game and now mixed by Paige's bitter words. How dare she dismiss your struggles so callously?

"What's your fucking issue, Paige?" you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration.

Paige's eyes narrowed as she glared at you. "My issue? Maybe if you didn't choke every time the pressure was on, we wouldn't be in this mess," she shot back, her words cutting like a knife. "You're always making excuses for yourself, Y/N."

You scoffed, getting up from the chair to glare at her. "I'm not making excuses, I'm acknowledging reality. We all had a bad game, Paige. It's not like you were lighting it up out there either."

"I did better than you, that's for fucking sure." Paige's voice came out bitter as you felt yourself let out a quiet scoff. You couldn't fight with her anymore, you were exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"Guys, stop it." Azzi's voice cut through the tension like a knife but neither of you acknowledged her, you both just kept glaring at each other.

"You're a bitch, Paige. You're just jealous because at the end of the day, you're just a burnt out star who can't handle not being in the spotlight anymore. Sorry that Caitlin's out there doing better than you, and that you feel the need to be a fucking ass all the time," you retorted, your words dripping with venom.

The frustration of the game, mixed with years of simmering animosity, boiled over into this heated argument that neither of you seemed willing to back down from. You didn't know why you brought up Caitlin, but all you knew was that you'd definitely get a reaction.

Paige's eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she glared up at you. "The fuck you have to bring Caitlin into this? At least I was a star, you'll never make into the WNBA with that attitude, I promise you that. You're just a selfish brat who can't handle criticism-"

"Hey!" Nika's shout rang out as she glanced in between the two of you. "One more word from either of you and I'm telling Geno, you guys are teammates and you need to act like it."

You glanced at Nika, seeing the disappointment etched on her face, and then back at Paige. Despite the rivalry between you, you knew that Nika was right ─ however, you weren't quite ready to admit that.

You scoffed as you exhaled, feeling everyone's eyes on you. You didn't acknowledge any of them as you left the hotel room, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears. You were embarrassed, Paige had always been hard on you for seemingly no good reason but it's never gotten this bad.

You two had always been good sports, even when the other played like shit. She never brought anything up that would actually hurt your feelings, unlike tonight. You didn't know why, you tried to think back at what could've changed tonight but came up with nothing that made sense. You just hoped it wouldn't affect the way you played with her, you didn't want it to effect the team more than it has.

You walked into your hotel room, locking the door behind you as you walked into the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to drown out the rest of the world.

──

"Who is it?" You asked as you heard the knocking on the door. It was nearing two in the morning and you had just stepped out of the much-needed shower, clad only in your robe.

"It's me," Paige's voice was quiet as she spoke, your whole body tensing up just at the sound. You sighed deeply as you walked up to the door, opening it to reveal a slightly disheveled Paige.

She looked really, really good; she had her hair up in a loose bun, her gray sweats were slightly rolling off her hips and her shirt fit her just perfectly. Goddamnit, Y/N ─ focus. You tried to hide the tug of attraction you felt towards Paige, pushing the distracting thoughts aside as you met her gaze.

"What do you want?" you asked, your tone guarded as you leaned against the doorframe.

"Let me come in," Paige's statement didn't come off as a question, more like a demand. You sighed and leaned backward so that she could enter.

Before you could say anything, Paige started talking. "I don't appreciate you comparing me to Caitlin, especially after the season I had."

You scoffed in disbelief as you closed the door. "You came in here just to say that?"

Paige turned so she could send you a glare. "I came in originally cause I was gonna apologize. But then I remembered the whole Caitlin thing-"

"What's up with you and Caitlin?" Your words came out with the same intensity as hers did. "I don't know why you took that comment to heart because you started this whole damn thing."

Paige's expression hardened, a defensive edge creeping into her demeanor. "What do you mean by that?" she snapped, her tone sharp with irritation. "I had the most terrible season, and everyone has been comparing me to her-"

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the tension between you and Paige reaching a boiling point. "And what about everything I've been through this season?" you shot back, your voice tinged with anger. "You think this season has been a cakewalk for me? You think I don't know what it's like to struggle?"

Paige's jaw clenched, her gaze hardening as she met yours head-on. "This isn't about that," she retorted, her voice low and tense. "This is about you and Caitlin suddenly being all buddy-buddy after the Iowa game. The comments under your posts, the calling and the texting. It's obsessive and annoying, I don't like it and I don't want you hanging around her anymore."

You paused for a second, trying to process her words. Paige's accusation caught you off guard, the weight of her words sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. Was she jealous? You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Paige's eyebrows furrowed.

"The fuck you laughing for? You think this is funny?" Paige's eyebrows furrowed even further, her frustration palpable as she waited for your response.

"Aww, are you jealous?" Your words came out amused as Paige kept glaring at you. "I'm not replacing you or the team, she has a boyfriend."

"I'm not jealous," Paige's glare intensified, her jaw tightening with frustration at your teasing remark. "Don't flatter yourself, Y/N. I couldn't care less about your little fling with Caitlin."

"Then what's your problem?" you pressed, unable to resist the urge to push her buttons further. "If it's not jealousy, then why are you so worked up about it?"

Paige's nostrils flared slightly as she averted her gaze for a moment, before looking back up at you. "Cause it's no damn comparison. At the end of the day, you're on my team and you're mine," she paused as she shook her head. "My friend," she quickly clarified.

You blinked in surprise at Paige's sudden intensity, the weight of her words sinking in like a heavy anchor. The possessiveness in her tone left you feeling flustered, unsure of how to respond.

"Paige..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. But before you could even process anything, her lips were on yours and your back was pushed up against the wall.

Instinctively, your arms found their way around her shoulders, pulling her closer as you responded to her kiss with equal fervor. The heat of the moment consumed you, erasing any doubts or reservations as you lost yourself in the sensation of her lips on yours.

Her lips on yours sent a shiver down your spine, electrifying every nerve in your body as you surrendered to the passion that consumed you. All thoughts of the past were forgotten as you gave yourself over to the intoxicating enticement of Paige's lips.

Her hands slide up your body and hold your neck as you let out a soft whimper, causing your head to fall back against the wall. Paige's lips began leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your jaw and neck, as her hands explore your body.

This couldn't be happening, you kept thinking to yourself. After playing on the same team as Paige for almost three years now, it felt like this was a fever dream ─ but you didn't mind it, not at all.

Her lips found yours again, kissing you roughly as your hands gripped her head. With ease, she lifted you up into her arms, your weight feeling insignificant against her strength. She kept her lips on yours as she carried you toward the bed, dropping you swiftly as your hands found her face.

Paige's hands had easy access to your body due the robe, that she quickly slid off as her lips stayed on yours. She pulled away for a second, breathless, as she took in your body with admiration in her gaze. You felt self-conscious for a moment, but you had no time to dwell on it as Paige pulled you down on the bed.

"You're fucking gorgeous," she mumbled as she pressed kisses all over your neck. "I hate how gorgeous you are."

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as Paige's words and actions washed over you. Part of you wanted to resist, to question the sudden intensity of this moment, but another part of you couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry between you and Paige.

But as her lips trailed along your neck, you found yourself unable to resist the pull any longer. With each kiss, each touch, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the utter need that surged through your body.

"I hate how you make me feel," Paige whispered against your skin, her voice husky with desire. "Every time I'm near you, it's like I lose control. Like I can't think straight."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each moment. You reached up to cup her face, guiding her lips back to yours in a desperate kiss, hungry for the taste of her against your skin.

You reached out to her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you pulled her closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew you together. "I hate how much I want you," Paige groaned, her voice tinged with frustration as she pressed her lips against your neck with force, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

"I hate how much I need you," Paige spoke as she gazed into your eyes, her grip tightening on your waist as she pulled you closer. "But I'm not gonna fight it anymore. I'm done pretending like I don't want you, okay?"

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at her confession swirling in the pit of your stomach. In that moment, all you could think about was Paige completely, letting her consume you with her passion and desire.

"I want you, too, P." You finally let out, your voice quivering as she began to caress your thigh.

Paige scoffed, shaking her head at your words. "I know, I know you do."

She pushed her lips into yours again, a needy moan escaping your lips as she pushed you onto the bed. She straddled your hips as she kissed all over your neck, feeling yourself pulsate beneath her. You couldn't even think straight anymore, your mind was complete mush as she kept kissing all over your neck and jaw.

Paige mouth traveled down toward your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys all over it. Your hands found her blonde hair, tugging as she teased you. Her blue eyes were completely focused on you, every reaction and every sound that you made, fueling her desire even further. With each kiss, each touch, she seemed determined to leave her mark on you, to brand you as hers in every way possible.

And you welcomed it, craving the intensity like a starving soul. With each tug of your fingers in her hair, Paige responded with a groan of satisfaction, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire across your skin.

She pried open your legs slowly, her gaze still lingering as your breath hitched. "Fuck," she mumbled as her eyes flickered toward your soaking cunt ─ she was at a loss for words.

Paige fingers teased your entrance, pulling needy whimpers from your bruised lips. "You're so wet for me, baby," she finally plunged a finger into you, causing a borderline pornographic moan to leave your mouth.

Every sensation was heightened, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as she thrusted her finger in and out of you. She wasn't gentle by any means, you could practically feel the anger radiating from her body as she watched you.

You leaned further into the bed, covering your face with your arms as a string of moans left your mouth. Almost immediately, Paige gripped your arm and pulled it off of your face. "I want you to look at me while I fuck you, alright?"

You couldn't reply with any words, you weren't even sure you were conscious at this point ─ the exhaustion from the game, the anger from the earlier argument and now the utter pleasure of you were feeling was fogging up your brain, you couldn't even think straight anymore; all you could do was sit there and take it.

You tried your best to keep your eyes on her, but you felt yourself slipping as you arch your back. She added another finger, causing a new sensation jolting down your body ─ you hadn't even orgasmed yet and you feel beyond overstimulated.

"Does Caitlin do this better than me, huh?" She mumbled as she leaned forward to press a sloppy kiss to yours lips. "Fucking answer me," she groaned as she pulled away.

You shook your head fervently, the only words you were really understanding were "Caitlin" and "better". Her movements became faster and deeper with your answer, causing another loud moan to slip out of your lips.

"Fuck, please," you cried out as you leaned back into the bed. Paige quickly pulled you down by your hips, making sure to pin you down as she continued to finger-fuck you. "Please,"

"So polite, baby. Fucking three years, it took me three years to realize that they only thing you needed was a good fuck for you to be nice, huh?" She spoke harshly as she felt you tighten around her fingers, your face contorting into utter pleasure as you shut your eyes. "Now I know whenever I need you to shut up, all I need to do is fuck you, right baby?"

Her words all blurred in your mind as she began rubbing your clit, and you were cumming all over her fingers ─ the knot snapped hard, you were crying out so loudly, Paige was worried the neighbor's were gonna call the office.

She helped you ride your high as you caught your breath, before she pulled out her sticky fingers from your cunt. Before you could even process it, she stuffed them inside your mouth roughly as her blue eyes analyzed you.

You sucked them clean as you finally came back down to Earth, finally (kinda) being able to think straight. You were breathless, your legs were shaky and you were sweaty all over again. You finally opened your eyes to meet Paige's eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest at the look of utter admiration on her usually disinterested face (at least, when it came to you).

Before either of you could revel in the moment any longer, Paige's phone began to buzz in her sweatpants. She sighed loudly before picking it up, "What's up?"

You could recognize Nika's voice as she spoke but you couldn't quite understand what she was saying. However, when Paige's expression turned cocky as she took another look at you, you had a couple ideas on what it could be about.

"Yep, we made up. We're fine now, don't worry. Yeah, we're good, y'all can head to bed," she nodded along with whatever Nika was saying, a cocky ass smirk on her lips.

"You wanna talk to her? You sure?" Paige took a look at your disheveled appearance, laughing as your eyes went wide. Before you could protest, she handed you the phone. "Here you go,"

"Hey, babe," she spoke softly through the phone. "I made P go and apologize, I hate seeing you fight like this and-"

Her voice slowly became background noise as Paige leaned back into the bed, pulling you into her chest. Your heart began beating out of your chest as you relaxed into her embrace.

"-And I just love you guys, okay? Y/N, you still there?"

"Y-yeah, sorry. I'm just sleepy, we love you too, Nika," you got out as Paige smirked at you.

"Okay, okay," Nika replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Get some rest, okay?"

You said your goodbyes before handing the phone back to Paige, who ended the call with a satisfied grin. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Paige, only she would fuck your brains out then make you answer the phone.

You laid on her chest quietly as she pulled the blanket over your body, pulling you even closer. You guys sat in silence, both of you knew there was a lot of debrief ─ however, both of you were too tired to bring it up.

"I'm sorry for bringing up Caitlin, that was a bitch move," you began as you closed your eyes, getting comfortable beside Paige.

Paige's hand gently traced patterns on your back as she sighed softly. "No, I'm sorry too," she murmured, her voice filled with sincerity. "For being a bitch, and saying all that stuff about you not making it into the WNBA,"

"I know you didn't mean it," you mumbled as you felt yourself drift off into sleep. Paige leaned over slightly to turn off the lights, and you both slowly drifted off the sleep.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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[paleyouthcrusade]

Shame, Shame, Shame

Bridgertons x Bridgerton!reader

Word Count : 1824 words

Summary : When the reader snaps at her family, she can’t help the guilt that comes over her. 

Warnings : uhh pretty angsty I guess , though I'm not sure how I feel about it.

Part 2

It was a nice evening, the rest of the Bridgertons had thought. An evening nice enough to warrant dinner in the gardens rather than indoors. The whole incident involving Colin and Marina Thomson had just about blown over and Colin was set out to travel the world only the next day. It only made sense that the whole family were together for the day. 

This, however, was not something that you wanted. In fact, you would much rather prefer the opposite. Unlike your twin sister, Eloise, you had made the decision to begin your debut with Daphne. A stupid, stupid decision. 

Unlike your perfect older sister, you were not a diamond of the first water. You were not even a pretty gem. One might compare you more to a nice rock you found on the beach.

You were quiet, but not in the way the men wanted. You failed to laugh at their jokes, not understanding why you should when they were not funny. You didn’t ask about their travels, finding a man talking about things you could never do far from interesting. 

You tried to socialise with them as your mama had told you. But your voice seemed to always fail you whenever they insulted your embroidery work, or asked why you didn’t practice the piano forte. 

So no, you didn’t want to spend the day revelling in the sunshine with your family. All you wanted to do was lay in your self pity and anger whilst you gazed dramatically out of the window.

There had been one Lord who had caught your eye. Lord Isaac Oddington. Everyone had thought that Isaac was your love match, including your family. At some point, you had been brainwashed to think it too.

He was a simple man. Enjoyed the normal things like hunting and horse racing. Though, there were times that he was rude, bringing you to the state of tears with just his sharp tongue. 

Your younger siblings loved him. He often complimented Francesca’s pianoforte, played marbles with hyacinth, and told Gregory all he knew about bugs and rodents (your brother’s current interest). 

Eloise was indifferent. You very much doubted that your sister even knew someone had courted you due to her recent obsession with the Lady Whistledown.

Your older siblings respected him. He was of high class and a respectable family, being the second eldest son to a viscount. He had no past of gambling, and was known across the ton for being charming and kind. 

Not that you ever personally experienced that side to him. 

It had come as a shock to all when Lord Oddington had proposed. But not to you (because that would be ridiculous). Instead he had proposed to a lovely Lady that you never had never learned the name of but you knew from the whispers of your siblings that she was very well liked across London. 

You had done well to hide your heartbreak. Or perhaps there was no heartbreak in the first place. 

You quickly made a joke of yourself to your family, making comments at your expense at any point you could to convince them you were fine. You had even gone up to the engaged couple and wished them a happy marriage without even a sliver of sadness present. 

Your family had no time to dwell on what had happened before Lady Whistledown had exposed Marina’s pregnancy to the ton and everyone’s focus was on Colin. 

You have never been an angry person. The angriest you had ever gotten is when you had heard a boy whisper nasty things about Eloise to his friends so you had gone and pushed him into the lake. But that had been years ago, and since then your anger had been scarce.

Lately it was all you ever felt. 

But you shouldn’t have been angry at them. Your family. 

It was you who told them you were alright. It was you who got angry if they tried to console you, insisting you were fine. It was you who did everything in your power to play off what had happened.

But all of a sudden you spent more and more time in the garden, the library, or even your own room. Hanging around the rest of your family felt more like a chore. 

The cherry on top was hearing how everyone spoke of Daphne’s love match. And every time, without fail, this would be followed by a mention of next year's season with Eloise’s debut and your so-called ‘second trial’.

“Now you have experienced it, next season will come along smoothly and you will be married. I’m sure of it.” Your older sister smiled.

“And you shall be there to guide Eloise, of course,” Your mother added, earning an eye roll from your twin. 

“I’m sure Eloise will manage fine without me coddling her,” you stated, reaching for the salad bowl.

“I believe Eloise will have better luck without you by her side,” Colin quipped cheekily.

You didn’t falter your movement, but you did feel that familiar drop in your stomach.

“Better than you,” you snarked back, perhaps a bit too harshly if the sight of his smile dropping was anything to go by. 

Marina was still very much a sore subject. 

“Perhaps then I should consider y/n my lucky charm,” Eloise intercepted.

“That’s enough,” Your mama stated before the conversation could get out of hand “what happened to your sister was unfortunate, but it did not reflect on her. The issue relies completely on Lord Oddington.” 

“Proposing to a Lady whilst courting another is a sign of a dishonourable man,” Anthony added.

“Not that I blame him,” Benedict brought back the joking atmosphere. “Our dear sister must’ve stepped on his toes a few too many times.”

“Or perhaps he made his decision after meeting you. After all, if I saw that you were to be my brother in law I would also run the other way.” you internally winced as your words came out more sincere than you intended. 

But Benedict only gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his heart. 

“Are we talking about Lord Oddington?” Hyacinth suddenly bumped in, seemingly finding that throwing peas on Gregory was no longer interesting. “Oh I did like him a lot, he was so very kind.”

“You are easily won over sister,” you grumbled, tossing over a salad leaf. It landed in her hair. 

“Why didn’t he propose?” She continued as if you didn’t say anything. 

“Because he learned how bothersome and nosy you are,” you hissed, causing her to frown. 

“Y/n,” Your mother warned and you huffed, only rolling your eyes. 

“I think he did y/n a favour,” Eloise spoke up “there can’t have been a better outcome.”

And though you knew what she said was in your defence, you couldn’t help the spike of anger that rose in you.

“I could think of a number of ways it could have gotten better,” Your voice was calm, though your anger betrayed your body as you stabbed a cucumber with your fork a bit too aggressively. 

“It could have been a lot smoother,” Daphne agreed, her shoulder slightly nudging yours in recognition “But we managed to get through it, did we not?”

“I’ll be sure to keep a closer eye on you next year, to be sure that any suitors do not turn out like Lord Oddington,” Anthony smiled in what you guessed was meant to be reassurance, but it only aided to fuel the fire. 

“Oh please, I beg of you. Do anything but that,” You groaned “Or should I remind you all of Lord Berbrook?” 

The table fell into a tense silence, and your gut twisted at the sudden attention. 

“That was a mistake on my part, I will admit.” Your oldest spoke slowly, staring straight into your eyes to show the truth in his words “But it shan’t happen again.” 

You only scoffed, putting down your fork.

“That is easy for you to say, but I will have no say in the matter if it does.” 

“Y/n you should also remember that I got out of it,” Daphne gently put her hand over yours.

“Yes because you’re Daphne,” You pitched your voice higher in a mocking tone “Diamond of the first water.”

She recoiled 

“Y/n-” Your mama gasped.

“If Lord Berbrook had tried to marry me, all would tell me to be grateful I had a proposal at all,” Your voice rose. You had to hide your hands as they clenched around nothing, no doubt leaving crescent moon indents on your palms. 

“That is not true y/n!” Your mama argued back.

“Do not lie to me mama. I may be young but I am not dim witted.” 

You willed yourself to be quiet. Keep your voice down. Shut up. But it seemed now that once you started, it was almost impossible to stop.

“And next year it shall be the same,” you continued “with all eyes on Eloise, and perhaps one or two glances at me.”

“I’d much rather it be the other way around.” Your twin laughed awkwardly, trying to ease out the conversation. 

“Well, not all of us get what we want Eloise.” 

The silence that surrounded you was almost deafening.

“Then all of a sudden I shall find myself a spinster,” you continued on, your fork brutally ripping about the salad in front of you. 

“Do not say such things y/n!” your sister cried. 

“Tell me, sister, what job should I take up in the future? A governess? Or a maid?” 

You knew what you were saying was unfair. There wasn’t even anything wrong with being a governess, or a maid, or any other job a lady has to get by. But you were so violently and suddenly upset that you wanted to spit out every hurtful word you could. 

“You are a beautiful and talented lady, Y/n, I guarantee you will find someone,” your mother insisted. 

“Lord Oddington clearly didn’t think so.”

“So this is about Isaac Oddington then?” Benedict spoke up. Your poor brother just wanting to know what has you so heated.

“I do not care!” The loudness of your voice surprised you, and everyone around you. The sight of your youngest siblings flinching forcing you to lower it. “about Lord Oddington.” 

You paused, trying to get a second of peace in the silence. It only served to enhance your guilt and shame.

“I do not care,” You repeated. “I disliked the man, hated him in fact, from our first conversation.” 

“I had thought that you loved him,” Your mother spoke barely above a whisper. 

“No.” You spat, shaking your head to help force the tears from your eyes “It was you. It was all of you who loved him.”

None of your siblings knew what to say. 

“And if he proposed I would not have been able to say no. Because of you.”

#bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x bridgerton!reader #anthony bridgerton x sister!reader #bridgerton x sister!reader #benedict bridgerton x sister! reader #Colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x sister!reader #daphne bridgerton x reader #eloise bridgerton x reader

[pandorasword]

I've got my eye on you

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

「 From the column: How BTS take care of Chaeri, now and before 」

❒ member: Taehyung

❒ genre: Emotional

❒ words: 10k+

❒ summary: In which Chaeri realised that she missed the warmth of a hug more than she expected and that family may not always be a matter of blood

❒ notes: Bold and Italic at the same time indicates a sentence said in French.

❒ warnings: Mention of assault (Not described in detail)

「 Chaeri's Masterlist on my blog 」

Takes place not long before their debut | 2013

She once had a cellphone.

Before returning to Korea, her lifestyle could be described as more than wealthy. Her mother, a prima ballerina at the Paris Opera, never had to make compromises on how much money to spend and how much money to keep each month since she had pursued that career, and this benefited her children too. Chaeri always had a wardrobe full of the prettiest dresses, handbags from internationally renowned French designers, and the most professional pointes and tutus that could be found on the market. Because, of course, all those comforts she enjoyed came at a price: her dedication to ballet.

Her mother wanted, rather, demanded, her children to be as talented and successful as she was. To Dal, her brother, this came as easy as breathing.. He was the reincarnation of ballet. Chaeri, though, felt like she had to try harder than anyone else to be acceptable in her mother's eyes. Her life revolved around dance lessons, model walking, manners and everything that would make her perfect not only for her mother, but for everyone. The words 'In this family, we do not accept failures' were often repeated to her. 

Being perfect is a heavy responsibility for everyone, but for a young girl a somewhat heavier one.

Fortunately, in her opinion, what made the days better was the time spent with her brother. The brother she loved deeply, admired and would have given her life for. She could have sworn the feelings were mutual but, apparently, he prioritised other things over her. Like everyone else. But of all the others, she didn't care, never had. What she had hang onto all those years was the bond she thought she shared with her brother. She should have hated him after the way he had turned his back on her not long ago; the disappointed angry eyes in which he judged her and called her a liar; the indifference he showed in letting her go back to Korea without even telling her that he was going to miss her; the way he failed to protect her. 

Instead, there she was, on the floor of Big Hit's public relations office, now empty by hours, with a handset phone beside her, the stretched wire running all the way across half the room, from the plug to where she was sitting. With her back against a desk she hugged her knees to her chest, with the feeling that if she squeezed them tight enough her heart too would find a way to heal its cracks. She tried to call him at the Opera Institute in Paris, where he’d been studying and living for years after winning a scholarship - she tried that too but it hadn't gone the same way -, she tried calling him at home and on his mobile phone.

The first attempt ended with a not-so-convinced 'He's not here, I'll tell him you called' from his housemates.

The second attempt ended with her mother hanging up on her.

The third, the most painful, was hearing his voice clearly telling her that she should not call him again unless she had an apology to drop.

As if she had to apologise for what was done to her.

Her eyes were pinching, a bit from disappointment a bit from anger.

But she wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't goin-

Her thoughts of self-conviction were interrupted by the creaking sound of the office door.

That door should definitely have been oiled, the noise was unbearable.

"Chaeri-ya, I thought you were staying to practice, I was going straight to the studio but then I noticed that the only lights on besides the security lights were on this floor. Are you... okay?"

It cannot be said that Chaeri was ever rude to her mates but, certainly, for the first few months she could be described as quite reserved. She preferred to be on her own at every good opportunity, to have casual conversations without getting too personal with them. Not shy, but private. Being shy was not compatible with her strong and decisive personality that she always showed and never hid. The main feature she was proudest of.

When she saw Taehyung at the entrance of the office where she had spent the last few hours, she quickly pressed her eyelids together to wipe away the veil of tears that threatened to spill out

'I'm fine, thank you. You didn't need to come looking for me." "I wanted to"

His kindness always left her speechless, would she have been able to act as coolly with someone who hardly considered her? Probably not. He moved closer until he was a few steps from her feet

"May I help you?" "To what?" "To get that sad look off your face." "No sad look, I'm just tired."

By that time she would have liked to be alone with her thoughts, to have the chance to process yet another rejection from her brother without having to pretend that nothing was wrong because she was in other's sight.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to face things alone'. We are going to be a family, we should act like one"

Family

Her mouth turned bitter as she heard the boy's sentence. It was everything she did not want: become a family with them. The only concept of family she had was the one imparted by her mother and brother, and she could well do without it at this point.

"In families there is no confiding, only pushing each other to do better and better."

Tae's face was confused "I don't know why you think that but family is exactly where you should open up. No one can help you better than it"

Chaeri's eyes fell on the phone left at her side. She tried to confide with her family but everything had fallen apart because of that. A lump rose in her throat that prevented her from speaking. Would she have been better off keeping quiet? Perhaps her brother would still have spoken to her if she just kept what had happened that day in dance class to herself. But it would have been so wrong to keep it hidden.

Taehyung sat down on the cold floor in front of her "Was your family the one you called on the phone?" he pointed with his chin at the device.

Chaeri nodded without looking at him.

"Sometimes calling your relatives is worse than not hearing from them, that makes the melancholy of home even heavier."

"It's even worse if the melancholy of having me home is not felt by them." Her voice broke almost in tears that could have burst out at any moment. She felt overwhelmed by all the negative emotions accumulated over those months.

"There's not a chance they don't miss you" "Oh, trust me. There's more than a chance" "Tell me about it" "What?" "Talk it out with me. I won't give you advices or my opinion if you don't want it but I'll be a good listener. I think you need to talk about whatever is haunting you."

She hated how she was unable to manage her emotions without them taking over. She looked up at the ceiling of the room, dotted with dark specks of damp. She began to count them one by one to keep control.

"There's nothing to talk about." "You think I didn't notice that you don't feel safe?"

She didn't realise how evident her discomfort was to others until the moment Taehyung pointed out the truth to her. They believed she did not feel safe with them. This, if possible, broke her heart even more. She had never thought for a single second that one of those seven kind boys she lived with could do to her what that monster had. Despite that, it seemed that her constant anxiety about finding him around the corner had led the boys to believe that she did not feel safe with them. She couldn't hold back the tears any longer. The black dots she had been looking at until a second before were now faded by the tears blurring her vision

"I'm sorry. You haven't done anything that ever led me to think I couldn't be safe."

Taehyung was reluctant to touch her to comfort her, although he craved to be able to wipe away her tears and caress her back.

"And I assure you that it will always stay this way, Chaeri-ya. We will never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable."

For long minutes, all that could be heard in the room were the girl's sobs and nothing else. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel the pulse in her ears and throat. The calls on the phone and the conversation with Taehyung brought back memories of each moment that led her to leave France. It took an unmeasurable strength for her to regain control of her mind.

"I have been-"

She hadn't said those words since the day she told her mother. She remembered too well how she slapped her, threatening to do it again and again if she kept saying what to her mother were only lies.

Taehyung reached out a hand to hers, squeezing it. He wanted to give her strength

"I have been assaulted by my dance teacher, in Paris."

She told someone, and that made it all even more real. The monster, as she used to call him in her thoughts, had tried to convince her that she actually misunderstood everything, that she was exaggerating it to the point where she started to doubt herself and her state of mind. But he had not succeeded, neither he, nor her mother, nor her brother - who was deeply offended by what Chaeri was implying about the teacher who had taught them both how to dance for their whole lives - .

"And that doesn't make me think that all the people around me could hurt me. I know he was the damaged one but…" She had to pause to recompose her voice "But what hurts me is that my mother… my mother and my brother believed that I made everything up. They believed him and not me. They believe him and not me. So, Taehyung-ssi, tell me how should I want to refer to someone as family if family fails you so much?"

The guy's face became unreadable and the trauma she had gone through made her fear that he would not believe her either. She was about to get up and leave when she heard him speak

"Can I hug you?" She stayed quiet for few seconds "I didn't tell you these things to be pitied" "I don't want to do this to pity you at all. The reason is because I feel you have been denied this kind of touch for too long".

The girl felt a warmth in her chest, that typical feeling you get when you are understood, treated with kindness. She nodded without even thinking about it too much, because if she did she probably wouldn't have accepted.

He was behind her, wedging himself into the space between the desk and the girl's back, to wrap his arms around her in a backhug. He rested his cheek on her hair. His eyes were damp too, but he wouldn't let it show.

"I promise you that in our family no one will ever make you feel alone or misunderstood. Never will anyone let something so horrible happen to you again. And I, personally, swear that I will get an eye on you. Always"

She really wanted to believe in the words of the boy who was so gently trying to make her feel better. Could that be the good time when she would really find a family that cared about her? And when was the last time someone cuddled her?

She couldn't remember, yet she felt as if it had been a lifetime.

#bts 8th member #bts female member #taehyung imagines #bts imagines #taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts au #bts female addition #bts v #bts 8th member au #bts scenarios #kpop female member #kpop female oc #bts x reader #bts idol au #bts au fanfic

[sketching-shark]

For the character ask game. Part of me wants to say Wukong but.... let's throw a curveball and say Predaking :3

All right @ladyzerodark! World's best robot dragon :D

Okay, so keep in mind that this is coming from someone who never watched Transformers Prime all the way through and knows about this guy a lot through osmosis.

That said, I do think that there's something so interesting and compelling about the basics of Predaking's background that could act as a catalyst to have all sorts of contemplations on everything from the nature of mass extinction to the destructive and self-destructive consequences of warfare, capitalism, and imperialism.

Like, just the fact that Predaking's a clone from the species of cybertronians that went extinct long before TFP's timeline and who was created to be a weapon of war already means that this guy's existence is ripe with all kinds of horrors. And of course all of that is exacerbated by the other cybertronians mostly treating him like a dumb dangerous animal at best or as someone to kill off once he presents a potential threat at worst. Plus there's some really juicy glimpses into how he really wants a family and was really looking forward to more predacons being brought into existence up until both Autobots and Decepticons decided should all be blown up instead. With all of this going on, and with basically everyone else treating him so horribly no matter how intelligent he is and no matter how much he expresses his loyalty to Megatron in both words and deeds (until he realizes how completely he was betrayed) you can understand why he's so angry and such a violent bastard for a good chunk of the series. And he's a big guy, but he's also so young! And from the moment he emerged from a tube you had the closest beings he had to guardians telling him to go kill other guys and not caring about him beyond that! He literally had to teach himself how to read!

Not to mention that in addition to these things about Predaking as an individual, the thing about the extinction of the predacons, like that of our own dinosaurs, is that it was brought on by a completely indifferent cosmic event. I know the main focus of Transformers as a series is on how the Autobot-Decepticon war messed up Cybertron, but tbh I really like the addition of reminders that the universe itself can and will kill you too. Definitely adds another layer to the fucked up nature of warfare; like when you have so much working against you on the cosmic and natural scale, it does show warfare to be incredibly stupid.

I know it's nowhere near canon, but that is one of the reasons why it's my headcanon that Shockwave decided that it would be a logical step to try his hand at bringing back the predacons partially to be weapons of war but mainly because he concluded that restoring their species would be an important step in helping Cybertron recover. I mean, as carnivorous as the predacons were at least THEY never destroyed the biosphere lol.

(tbh I do also like the idea that Predaking comes to develop something of a superiority complex over other cybertronians, at least for awhile, not because of his strength but because of the fact that it was the transformers and not the predacons who deliberately destroyed their home planet).

So yeah, I know that in the show Preaking and the other predacons get all kinds of shit from both Autobots and Decepticons for being violent and savage, but when such statements are coming from bots who quite literally decimated their entire biosphere there's a LOT you could do with pointing out how hollow such accusations ring. It's a very poor predator that destroys the basis of its diet, after all, and I do think there's a really interesting and timely critique you could make on our own globalized civilization as it currently stands by simply noting that for as much as there's been and still is a constant sneering at animals and even many groups of humans for being "dumb" and "uncivilized," the true horror and stupidity lies in having made a civilization and waging never-ending warfare that is literally destroying the basic elements of survival. As such, to me Predaking seems like an great character through to which to both explore a lot of different horrors, but also to offer an alternative ideology to the whole Autobot-Decepticon thing in terms of being like "frag you and your omnicidal drama I want a planet that can give me and mine a good meal every day forever."

#predaking #ask game #transformers #they could do SO many interesting things with this guy

[serephinastardust]

You, my root demon

---------

When I hear you call my name,

I shake and shrink and run away.

You trigger voices, deeply menacing,

My instincts die, no bells will ring.

Your anger is like molten fire,

Why, oh why, you don't grow tired.

It haunts my dream, and thoughts unbidden,

The trauma I just want to ridden.

From child to now I try to heal,

Not wanting the past to haunt me hear.

I turn off my thoughts, but that leaves me numb,

How and why did you do this to me.

Memories are black when they should be vibrant,

A colorful tapestry, for me to appreciate.

But instead all I see are pin holes of color,

A portal instead for the demons arrival.

I should not have this primal fear,

I don't think you realize the damage you caused.

But what hurts me the most, ironic it is,

When you are calm, I just want to be near.

I am the child, who has to fear thier father,

Because he couldn't regulate his anger.

But it wasn't because of what you would think,

Disregulating emotions was his trigger.

Things out of place, or things not done right,

People too nosy or people not bright.

But what's worse with this fear,

That it brings me to tear,

How do I function when conflict appears?

I struggle with raised voices,

I struggle with conflict,

If people's auras flair up,

My heart beat will rise.

My legs will shake, and I grow weak in knees,

The tears come unbidden, to these strangers here,

My throat will close up, because I can't let them see,

How broken my trauma has left me here.

My emotions are a burden, because of all this,

Even when I cut you from my life.

But even though cut, you still try to stay in,

With gifts that you thought I would need.

But because of my trauma, I'm cautious of your gifts,

You've gotten angry, because I tried to be free.

You've threatened to stop stuff, you volunteered

freely,

You've called me ungrateful for doing all the could,

I'm a user, abuser of all your goodwill,

Even though I can never say no.

But moving a way has help me heal,

Though I still fear you, your anger is random

I don't have to fear seeing your person,

I don't have to fear hearing your voice.

My mental health issues, are probably not your fault,

You definitely exasperated them, now I'm an adult.

I honestly don't know why I still live,

As living with you I had made 3 attempts.

But some how I'm here, and I don't feel a thing,

Which is terribly sad,

Because this isn't how I pictured my adult self,

Hiding, and unavailable to the world in my home.

Just know you never once told me "i love you",

And i still really don't know what that means.

But I vowed as a child my kids would know,

The words of I love you, from a parents mouth.

A child knows love so unconditionally,

That even if I, an adult, don't know its meaning,

At least the children I say, will instinctually know.

So I will stop part of this generational curse,

Because what you have done has been extremely cruel.

P.s

The one and only memory I have of you saying,

These three words, "I love you",

I was an adult about thirty, and it shocked me.

The whole household stopped and just stared.

After being disowned, gaslighted and more,

I didn't know how to react to that.

But all I could think was who was this man,

What had he done with his indifference.

Did he think three word at thirty,

Would make up for my childhood trauma.

But toxic is as toxic does,

And it wasn't long before he did me dirty.

And ao he lives with my void once again,

And maybe when dead, we'll try again then.

#female writers #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #poetry #poet #original poem #poems on tumblr #spilled poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #poets blog #poetsandwriters #seraphinastardust #mental health #mental health poetry #free verse #free verse poetry #free verse poem

[nerdyqueerandjewish]

Tw for past non-suicidal self injury

Since there’s more distance now and I’m in a good place I can examine my childhood and teen years more objectively and actually mourn the bad parts instead of trying to push them away. And like, I just wish I could be a support person for my past self because I can see how I was failed by many adults around me and that it matters, even if other people had other needs. The primary tool I had for regulating my emotions was self injury which already breaks my heart, but at its worst I would injure my face, and like no adult ever really talked to me about it or intervened? My mom once was like “what is that?” and I was like “nothing” and it was basically dropped, and idk the whole interaction seemed like it came from an angry/upset place that I was doing something wrong, and not a compassionate place. And I eventually got out of my longest run with it because my boyfriend thought it was gross. I basically stopped because I was shamed out of it, and I found more socially acceptable ways to be destructive. And idk I wish I had stopped because people cared about my well being and not because I was shamed.

Also it’s just like, my brain was already not doing well obviously, but what does a person learn and pick up when they are using their limited tools to essentially screaming that something is wrong and they need help and finds indifference or disgust. I want to be a good adult for them.

#self injury tw #emotional neglect tw

[thedragonagelesbian]

Okay since your asks were so fun, I’m going to do the same for you and ask the LI classes for the dnd character class asks:

Barb, Druid, and Warlock for Cyrus

Paladin and Cleric (👀) for Yiseeril

eee thank you!!!

d&d character class asks

Cyrus (answering for pallybarb for the first two and ranger for the third)

barbarian: What makes your muse angry? How do they manage their anger? Has their rage ever led them to destroy something important?

In typical lawful good fashion, the things that make Cyrus the angriest are things like injustice, cruelty, indifference toward others, greed, etc. Above all else what makes him furious is hurting the people he cares about.

Initially, like a lot of his negative emotions, instead of managing his anger, Cyrus just kind of swallows it (unless he can easily smite its source). It's only through meeting Karlach and having her teach him how to be a barbarian that he learns how to make that anger productive, but it takes a lot of work. No matter how hard Karlach pushes him to get him to rage during their sparring sessions, he can't unlock his emotions until someone else is at risk (I usually imagine Halsin as the one who volunteers to be Karlach's prop). The first couple of times Cyrus does rage, it's very overwhelming and disorienting, since it undoes so much of the self-possession and self-control that he prides himself on... but Karlach & Halsin call him a good boy, which makes everything better.

And. You know. The dialogue option that broke Cyrus' oath was a barbarian option. So there's always that :)

druid: How does your muse interact with the natural world? Are they good with animals? Plants? Do they keep any pets?

I don't think pallybarb!Cyrus had a ton of thoughtful interaction with nature pre-game. He'd do some adventuring in the woods around Baldur's Gate and along the Chionthar, but he hadn't yet discovered his love for gardening. The Grove was a... mixed experience. On the one hand, I think it sparked a very starry-eyed admiration for druidic magics. On the other, their treatment of the tiefling refugees and Kagha's dealings with the Shadow Druids upset him greatly.

So meeting Halsin and hearing how he talks about nature and being able to help him heal the Shadowlands are pivotal for Cyrus, laying the groundwork for him to (centuries down the line) become an Oath of the Ancients paladin at Halsin's side.

As a wild heart barbarian, he can cast speak with animals and does so constantly. I think he and Halsin get some little planters going in the Elfsong Tavern in Act 3 so being stuck in the city doesn't feel quite so maddening for Halsin, and that's how Cyrus discovers his green thumb.

Re pets: Avernus isn't a. Great environment for that lol. I think Scratch stays with Shadowheart post-game (Cyrus has always had a mild phobia of dogs anyway...) and the owlbear goes with Halsin until Cyrus and Karlach return and take it on their adventures across Faerun.

warlock: Has your muse ever made a deal to get something they wanted? Is there anything your muse wants enough to broker for it? What would your muse sacrifice to get what they want?

Cyrus' preoccupation with being self-sufficient (ranger!Cyrus even more so) gives him a decent measure of resistance against temptation, but FUCK does he come close to making a stupid deal with Raphael after the Emperor threatens to make him a thrall. Raphael offers him not just a night of respite from the Emperor's omnipresence--pervasive and heavy even when the Emperor isn't exerting its will over Cyrus--but as many nights and sweet dreams as he wants until the Elder Brain is defeated... in exchange for Cyrus being Raphael's locus of control on the Council of Chosen through influencing Duke!Wyll. And Cyrus would sooner damn his soul to the Hells than compromise Wyll, so the deal is functionally equivalent to condemning himself to the House of Hope, and as panicked as he is, Cyrus is cognizant of that fact.

...And he seriously considers the deal anyway.

And even though he ultimately rejects it, he does still make the deal to trade the Crown of Karsus for getting the Orphic Hammer immediately. And it's never far from hand.

Self-sacrifice is still instinctive for Cyrus, even if he's tried so hard to break himself of that habit.

Yiseeril

paladin: What does your muse fight for? What tenets or oaths drive them? Have they ever had to break a vow, and if they have, why?

Yiseeril fights for herself, for her friends, for power, and for the bit. The closest thing to a tenet or oath that drives her is power good, but even that is. Flexible, given that there's very much a timeline where that pursuit is tempered.

I think if Yiseeril makes a vow, she either (a) is being a lying liar about it & thus breaking it doesn't hold any moral weight for her or (b) believes it with her whole irradiated chest & thus would never want to break it (i.e., her vow to Minthara that she'll stay with her & that they'll take over the Absolute together).

The one exception might be the vows she took when she became a Haruspex of Oghma. Certainly post-tadpole-ing she's stopped observing any rituals or complying with the strict mandates of her abbey or even praying to Oghma except in moments of crisis, but I think she's still following the spirit of those vows to protect, preserve, and pursue knowledge and to embody the voice of creativity.

cleric: Does your muse believe in any god or follow any religion? What drives their faith? Or, if they're faithless, why? What would it take for them to find faith in something or someone?

/big flashing neon sign that says IT'S COMPLICATED/

Nothing is so emblematic of Yiseeril's fundamental uncertainty and unmooring like her relationship to faith. She was (obviously) a follower of Oghma, raised by an order of monks called the Children of the Passive Voice who trained her relentlessly from birth to undergo the rite for which the sect was named-- one that would make her the one 'true' conduit for Oghma's divine and infinite knowledge on the Material Plane.

The ritual succeeded somewhat but left her mind broken and her divinity fallen until the tadpole returned some measure of autonomy to her, and now....................................

?????????????????????

Yiseeril hasn't had any time to grow out of the 'world's best sacrificial lamb' mindset that she was raised in, feeding an aching desire to be loved by a god any god it doesn't have to be Oghma she flirts with the Absolute's love with Shar's love with anything that will have her.

But. She is also painfully aware of how divinity has ruined her. And the only thing she hates more than Oghma--for failing her, for allowing his followers to destroy her, for not saving her--is the fact that he seems to be protecting her now. The fact that every time she reaches out to him--for spells, for blessings, for shelter in a moment of panic--he answers. The fact that everything she does feels like service to him. Her curiosity. Her thirst for knowledge. Her music and her bard magic and her creativity and her inspiration, she wants it to be for herself, but it still feels like worship.

Like the engraving you find the Chapel of Jergal: through knowledge comes atonement.

She finds faith more readily in her new friends, and in Minthara in particular (gay). It gives her something to hold onto when the cognitive dissonance of her relationship to Oghma gets too overwhelming.

#if i could draw yiseeril going down on minthara with spiritual reverence and bright-eyed devotion and worship i would #alas... #cyrus bg3 #gods least favorite princess #thank you again <33333333

[blorbocedes]

toto should not do george about it no one should do george about it! toto should just give him a very perfunctory well done and then nothing. no debrief no meetings no information about the car. lewis and toto should have a very intimate conversation where toto has his hand on lewis's waist right in front of him talking quietly enough that he can't hear any of it.

oh I like this so much... big fan of no one doing george...

george tapping his foot in nervous tension, he wants toto to be mad at him so he has a 100 rehearsed lines about how p3 is good for the team, for the sprint; and he'll make it up to toto for binning the car. not to take responsibility and apologize, no, but offer reasonable justification. repeat what he likes to say, 'no points for quali.' if someone's attacking you, you get to defend yourself; but if no one is... and maybe they Should be then it puts the onus of self reflection on you... and george doesn't want to look inward. he's scared of what he might see (the crack in the unquestioning self belief that he's always the Good Guy, who is Doing what it Takes)

toto just says a perfunctory (lovely word usage) congratulations on p3 and moves on. completely blank and indifferent, and george is like oh he must be Real pissed at me, and doesn't wanna show it in front of engineers and staff -- that's fine, he can just Logic and Rationalize his way out.

george goes to lewis, that it's a shame his lap time was cut but they'll make it up in the race. maybe make a joke about holding kevin behind. he knows lewis can be touchy about teammates crashing during quali to end up in a better position than him. instead, lewis just says, "better drivers would've done the same" a pat on his shoulder and walks away. the sheer dismissiveness of the way lewis treats him, that he's wall decor, like it doesn't bother lewis at all that george is beating him, like he doesn't matter enough to get mad about. and the shade of 'better drivers'

he's full of nervous energy all throughout the debriefs and sticks around, waiting for toto to call on him. get verbally reamed out. some part of him thinks he deserves it. instead, he sees lewis and toto speaking; and they don't notice he's there. toto who is comforting lewis, it seems like, toto who readily apologizes to lewis, who admits they've given him a shit car he does not deserve, a team principal who would go bat for his driver no matter. and it's not about first driver, because technically, in order of points -- that makes it george, no, there is a fondness and a respect between them that george will never get from toto. at least toto being angry at him means he knows george is there, a thing to be mad at. it's worse, still being an outsider when he's finally inside; to be invisible in your own team. he could break a thousand cars in this moment and it wouldn't matter, beyond the headache it would cause merc's accountant.

#exquisite george suffering #my not fics #blorbocedes ask #character study #george/toto #groto

[apersonwholikeslotus]

What about Jack and Alfred's relationship? Also, I really like your account :D

OKAY BUT LIKE; Jack was obviously born after Alfred had left. He was William's rebound kid like "oh well! Guess that one didn't work out might as well have another!" but like, a lot more bitter than I can sound through text. Y'know and then Will proceeded to not raise said rebound kid.

That's where Jack's resentment to Alfred starts. Because 'I only exist cause he isn't here'; then there is the William constantly praising Alfred despite acting like he hates him. So then poor Jack is even more confused because??? Do you want me to be nothing like him, or do you want me to be just like him??? or?????

Meanwhile; on the other side of the ocean Alfred is only vaguely aware of Jack's existence, like they don't have a relationship and any semblance of something Jack thinks is a relationship is one-sided on his part.

anyway, their relationship finally starts when Alfred sends Jack (who's probably like 8 btp) a Christmas present. Like out of nowhere, and Matt or Dylan or idk who is like "You need to send him a thank you letter". Jack proceeds to take two months to write this thing because friends, I've never spoken to him before. But eventually its sent. and Alfred decides instead of just letting it be? to send one back? and for like a solid year all of these letters are just 'thank you' 'it's not problem' 'well you took the time to send it' 'it really didn't take that much of an effort I'm just happy you like it' cause neither of them know what to say to each other?????

it takes awhile but eventually they get to other topics, just random things here and there. The letters are consistent but they are something; Jack goes from not liking/being indifferent about Al, to idk, thinking he's pretty cool? Like? He told dad to fuck off and got away with it??? what???? Alfred starts to think Jack is pretty cool too, like bro this kid is possibly the most metal ten yr old known to man?? And he gives dear ol' dad 2.3 heart attacks a day, which is super funny to Al. All good things must come to an end though, and at some point the letter pitter out. I'm thinking like sometime during the Spanish-American war, cause Al came out a super power and in a dick move promptly forgot about little old Jack. It was a two sided thing though, Jack became self-governing and Lord Father wasn't happy about it and basically kicked him out at the age of 13-ish; so he had bigger things to worry about.

Alfred showed back up during WW1 but not really long enough for them to do anything but acknowledge each other before Alfred was back to being an introvert.

WW2 rolls around, the US joins the war and Alfred shows up (begrudgingly) to help Jack and Liam, who are in my hc about 16 and 12. England was very worried about them. Now, Jack is angry about stuff, and he's so worried about keeping Liam safe, and I haven't talked to Mattie or dad or uncle Dylan or Uncle Angus in weeks are they okay???? So despite the fact that for at the very least a few months they're together 24/7 they don't really bond; Jack is stuck between "I need to protect Liam" and "I don't know what I'm doing, I can't protect myself much less someone else" that he just ends up being mad and stubborn while Alfred who's instincts have already added these two children to his Protect At All Costs list is just confused because??? I'm just trying to keep you two safe why do you hate me???

eventually the war ends (thank god); now Liam during the war just added Alfred to his list of People To Cling To Randomly. Alfred was at the bottom of the list albeit, but he was on it. Jack however just got wary of Alfred. He was trustworthy sure, but, this whole thing was technically his first impression of Alfred. and in the middle of a war is not the best time to get a first impression.

by the time the mid-fifties rolled around Alfred in-between stare offs with Ivan decided it was time to actually spend time with his younger two siblings. and this my friends, is when Alfred and Jack finally became the crackhead duo they are; it's not perfect it's really not. But they do get along pretty well, they get in the stupidest arguments like how to make the best pb&j or who Matthieu likes more. Jack rambles about animals for 45 min straight while Alfred listens intently then Alfred rambles about space for 45 min straight while Jack listens intently. It's the only time either of them can sit still that long. combined they give dear ol' dad 4.6 heart attacks a day. There will always be the age gap obviously, and there'll always be the over-arching problem of William and his favoritism. but idk, I think they'll be ok.

#this is so long #and very possibly not coherent #but here we go #aph australia #hws australia #aph america #hws america #hetalia #hetalia hc #anglo-family #the crackiest heads #also thank you!!! #I'm so glad you do

[ina-nis]

Aren’t you a sore loser?

When you deal with rejection - either directly or indirectly - don’t you just lower your head and take it?

You don’t even ask yourself why anymore, do you? Before, you could do that; before, you used to think it was your fault for something you did, or didn’t do, because of your manners or appearance, because of your interests and whatnot.

Now, it’s just like... “Ok, so we’re done here. Thank you for everything.”

You don’t insist. You don’t resist. You just take it.

You can’t be a proper friend either, because the natural progression of friendships for you is romantic love.

Some people are just looking for friends, nothing more.

Thus, rejection nonetheless.

For most people you have met, you’re more suited for a friendship. And you take it, knowing the heartbreak is just a matter of time, because you always get involved with unavailable people anyway.

Is that why when you “go out there”, even if you’re socializing and talking to many people, you still feel like a ghost, as if they were seeing right through you?

Because you can’t possibly be fit for a romantic relationship?

Because all your worth is to be a good friend?

And you take it.

You’re supposed to love yourself and all these other self-help tips. “Being lonely isn’t so bad, embrace solitude! Just get a new hobby or a plant.”

And you take it.

People owe you nothing. Not their time, nor their energy. They don’t need to have a relationship with you if they don’t want to and they definitely don’t need to date you or any other person.

And you take it.

The past and present experiences keep on tormenting you, going over and over, like a broken record - surely there will be something there you’ll be able to use, there will be some kind of proof you can show your brain to tell it how wrong those thoughts are, it’s all just useless negativity and pessimism.

A reality check? Well, this is all because of your disordered behaviours and disordered thinking and disordered interactions causing disordered connections that don’t last. People can sense that, so of course they will not want to involve themselves with such person.

And you take it.

You can’t make demands or have desires. You can’t get angry for being only considered fit for friendships (if anything at all).

It’s not about you.

Because you’re worthless (because you associate your worth to these few and negative things, instead of focusing on all the other more uplifting facets of yourself).

And you take it. And you numb your feelings so they don’t hurt you anymore. People can’t hurt you anymore because you expect nothing from them.

It started with desperation, then pleads, then bitterness and resentment...

Then you grow more and more cynical. Indifferent. Like nothing really matters much at his point and if they haven’t changed despite all attempts at different treatments and approaches, it’s hard to believe they ever will.

#avpd #avoidance #avoidant #avoidant personality disorder

[selfhelpchampion]

Loving the Unlovable: Cultivating Compassion for Challenging People

We've all had strained relationships that left us feeling frustrated, hurt or angry. Whether it's a temperamental relative, demanding manager or flaky friend, dealing with difficult people is unavoidable. So how can we handle these relationships in a constructive way, without being overwhelmed by negative emotions? Ancient Buddhist wisdom provides timeless advice on cultivating patience, care and insight - even towards those who upset us most. 

Seeing Our Shared Humanity

The Buddhist thinker Shantideva once asked, "Why do you get angry when others insult you, yet remain indifferent when the same happens to someone else?" His question encourages self-reflection on why we tolerate mistreatment of others, yet react strongly when we feel personally slighted. This double standard comes naturally, but also worsens conflicts. So how can we move beyond self-centered reactions to nurture goodwill and care for all - even "unlovable" individuals?

The first step is acknowledging our universal capacity for mistakes. As Shantideva wisely noted, "Some act wrongly out of ignorance, while others get angry out of ignorance." All people grapple with harmful impulses and knee-jerk reactions at times. These stem from delusions like insecurity, prejudice and strong dislikes that we have yet to overcome. By having patience not just for others' faults, but also our own, we can replace judgment with empathy. 

When we admit our shared struggles, another's offensive behavior feels less like a personal attack than a reflection of their own unresolved pain. This reduces feelings of insult and makes space for understanding. With compassion for our common humanity outweighing resentment, we can approach tensions through open dialogue rather than retaliation.  

Taking Responsibility for Our Reactions

While understanding others' humanity, Shantideva also taught that our emotions spring more from within than without: "It is your anger that conquers you, not your opponent." When someone provokes us, it's easy to see them as the sole source of our hurt. But in truth, how we interpret situations plays a bigger role than others’ intent in determining our reactions. 

By recognizing destructive emotions as products of our perceptions, not just external events, we regain power over our responses. Rather than staying hostage to someone else’s behavior, we can choose our attitudes mindfully. For instance, a passing comment may sting our pride and rouse bitterness. But if we understand self-image as fluid rather than fixed, the same remark disrupts our inner peace less. 

Letting Go of Expectations and Attachments

Many strained bonds involve unmet hopes that morph into resentment over time. We often want people to fit neatly into roles in our lives, then feel disappointed when reality fails to align. As Shantideva wrote, "If I get angry at the wielder of the stick instead of...the stick itself, it makes little sense." Here, the stick symbolizes external events, like others’ actions, while the wielder depicts our internal landscape shaping how situations affect us. 

By differentiating the two, we recognize that other people's behavior doesn't define our value or govern our well-being. This allows releasing rigid beliefs and seeing everyone as complex beings deserving of care regardless of their actions. For instance, we can empathize with a flaky friend’s deeper personal struggles instead of just condemning their behavior. 

Overall, dropping fixed expectations and attachments is key to avoiding bitterness and finding fulfillment in relationships without demanding others meet preconceived standards. This adaptable mindset fosters understanding by acknowledging each person’s uniqueness and capacity for growth. 

The Power of Forgiveness

Anger often springs from obsessing over old wounds, but as impermanence teaches, the past is gone. "Since everything depends on karma, there is little point harboring grudges," Shantideva acknowledged. Rather than revisiting others’ transgressions, we can practice forgiveness - a gift of compassion to ourselves and others. By releasing desires for vengeance, we halt cycles of retaliation and create space for reconciliation. 

To forgive challenging people, we may need to consciously understand their viewpoint instead of just our own. We can also recognize their ability to learn and change for the better with patience and care. The alternative - staying estranged - typically breeds more pain. Though difficult, working through conflicts constructively is healthier for all involved. Ultimately, forgiveness helps free people to relate peacefully without lingering resentments poisoning interactions. 

Finding Common Ground

When tensions flare, it’s easy to split issues into "right vs. wrong" camps. But most disputes contain nuance hiding beneath polarization. By softening extreme stances, we uncover shared interests and creative solutions not apparent initially. 

Even with very contrary perspectives, seeking to comprehend an opposing position often reveals some validity along with room for compromise. This humbler approach allows discussing issues calmly and exploring mutually agreeable outcomes. With consistent good faith, seemingly intractable differences give way to discovered interdependence and common cause. Reframing disputes with empathy transforms head-butting egos into collaborators navigating difficulties together. 

Overall, leading with open hearts over inflexible agendas paves the way for addressing matters helpfully, not hatefully. Though requiring diligence, even relationships marred by major breaches of trust can become occasions for mutual understanding and growth rather than lasting resentment. 

Cultivating Inner Peace

Buddhist thought helps us recognize that happiness relies chiefly on mindset - not others’ actions which we can't control. Understanding our shared struggles breeds tolerance rather than contempt for shortcomings. By taking responsibility for our reactions, we gain freedom from letting other people determine our inner tranquility. The art of forgiveness and seeking accord over attack opens doors to reconciliation that seemed permanently shut. 

With care and wisdom, even very difficult people become teachers helping us cultivate patience, resilience and compassion. Gradually, these inner breakthroughs blossom into an abiding sense of peace capable of weathering life’s inevitable ups and downs. Guided by goodwill, we can transform relationships from sources of anguish into opportunities for self-mastery, mutual healing and human growth beyond old limitations.

#selfhelpchampion #selfhelp #adulting #nevermiss #medium

[blondrichclosetwitch]

Matthieu Ricard is an ordained Buddhist monk and an internationally best-selling author of books about altruism, animal rights, happiness and wisdom. His humanitarian efforts led to his homeland’s awarding him the French National Order of Merit. (Ricard’s primary residence is a Nepalese monastery.) He was the Dalai Lama’s French interpreter and holds a Ph.D in cellular genetics. In the early 2000s, researchers at the University of Wisconsin found that Ricard’s brain produced gamma waves — which have been linked to learning, attention and memory — at such pronounced levels that the media named him “the world’s happiest man.” He was also late for our Zoom, and it was driving me nuts. Didn’t he get my confirmation email? Why hadn’t he emailed to say he was running late? I had deadlines! Tight deadlines! My carefully planned schedule was being shot to hell! Alas, everything turned out fine, as it was always going to. Clearly, I had much to learn about taming the mind. “You should not get quickly discouraged,” said Ricard, whose memoir, “Notebooks of a Wandering Monk,” is forthcoming. “You cannot master playing the piano now. These skills take time.”

OK, so I’ve been meditating twice a day for probably 15 years, and I feel as if it has improved my ability to control my thoughts and emotions instead of letting them control me. But still sometimes I’ll walk by a mirror and have an extreme flash of self-loathing. Or I’ll get all agitated over something stupid, like finding a parking spot. Will that stuff ever go away? Well, they can. Absolutely. You know, once I was on the India Today Conclave.1 They said, “Can you give us the three secrets of happiness?” I said: “First, there’s no secret. Second, there’s not just three points. Third, it takes a whole life, but it is the most worthy thing you can do.” I’m happy to feel I am on the right track. I cannot imagine feeling hate or wanting someone to suffer.

It’s not the best thing to say, but I can easily imagine wanting certain people to suffer. How are we supposed to deal gracefully with our polar opposites in a world that feels increasingly about polarities? I mean, the Dalai Lama could talk to Vladimir Putin all he wants, but Putin’s not going to say, “Your compassion has changed me.” Once, a long time ago, someone said to me, who is the person you would like to spend 24 hours alone with? I said Saddam Hussein. I said, “Maybe, maybe, some small change in him might be possible.” When we speak of compassion, you want everybody to find happiness. No exception. You cannot just do that for those who are good to you or close to you. It has to be universal. You may say that Putin and Bashar al-Assad are the scum of humanity, and rightly so. But compassion is about remedying the suffering and its cause. How would that look? You can wish that the system that allowed someone like that to emerge is changed. I sometimes visualize Donald Trump going to hospitals, taking care of people, taking migrants to his home. You can wish that the cruelty, the indifference, the greed may disappear from these people’s minds. That’s compassion; that’s being impartial.

But why does compassion have to be universal? Because this is different from moral judgment. It doesn’t prevent you from saying that those are walking psychopaths, that they have no heart. But compassion is to remedy suffering wherever it is, whatever form it takes and whoever causes it. So what is the object of compassion here? It is the hatred and the person under its power. If someone beats you with a stick, you don’t get angry with the stick — you get angry with the person. These people we are talking about are like sticks in the hands of ignorance and hatred. We can judge the acts of a person at a particular time, but compassion is wishing that the present aspect of suffering and the causes of suffering may be remedied.

What are the limits of compassion? Could blowing up a pipeline be a compassionate act? Well, we discussed a lot in those meetings with the Dalai Lama at the time of Kosovo what we call “surgical” violence.2 But the problem is if it triggers a chain reaction, leading to escalation from both sides. Also, if the barrel is bad, all the apples get rotten, so the system has to change. You can see that with this deep divide now in the United States based on ignorance. Delusion is a cause of suffering. If you could get rid of that, that will alleviate suffering in many forms.

For a while now, people have been calling you the world’s happiest man. Do you feel that happy? It’s a big joke. We cannot know the level of happiness through neuroscience. It’s a good title for journalists to use, but I cannot get rid of it. Maybe on my tomb, it will say, “Here lies the happiest person in the world.” Anyway, I enjoy every moment of life, but of course there are moments of extreme sadness — especially when you see so much suffering. But this should kindle your compassion, and if it kindles your compassion, you go to a stronger, healthier, more meaningful way of being. That’s what I call happiness. It’s not as if all the time you jump for joy. Happiness is more like your baseline. It’s where you come to after the ups and downs, the joy and sorrows. We perceive even more intensely — bad taste, seeing someone suffer — but we keep this sense of the depth. That’s what meditation brings.

Do you ever feel despair? There’s no point. We can feel sad if we see suffering, but sadness is not against a deep sense of eudaemonia,3 of fulfillment, because sadness goes with compassion, sadness goes with determination to remedy the cause. Despair: You’re at the bottom of the hole, there’s no way out. That’s fatalism. But suffering comes from causes and conditions. Those are impermanent, and impermanence is what allows for change.

Your response to my question about despair was, “There’s no point,” which suggests that you’re making conscious choices about your feelings — whether to follow them or not — based on their perceived value. That’s not something everyone is able to do. Short of also becoming a Buddhist monk, how might other people start developing the ability to control their emotions like you can? Emotions are just like any characteristic of our mental landscape: They can change. We can become more familiar with their process; we can catch them early. It’s like when you see a pickpocket in a room: Aha, be careful. Twenty-five hundred years of contemplative science4 and 40 years of neuroplasticity — everything tells you we can change. You were not born knowing how to write your columns. You know it’s the fruit of your efforts. So why would major human qualities be engraved in stone from the start? That would be a total exception to every other skill we have. That’s why I like the idea of Richard Davidson’s5 that happiness is a skill. It can be deeper, more present in your mental landscape. We deal with our mind from morning to evening, but we spend very little attention on improving the way we translate outer conditions, good or bad, into happiness or misery. And it’s crucial, because that’s what determines our day-to-day experience of the world!

But if I were explaining that to someone, they still might say, OK, how do I change? Is the answer as simple as “Just start thinking about compassion”? When you are in that moment of unconditional love — say, for a child — this fills our mind for 30 seconds, maybe a minute, then suddenly it’s gone. We all have experienced that. The only difference now is to cultivate that in some way. Make it stay a little longer. Try to be quiet with it for 10 minutes, 20 minutes. If it goes away, try to bring it back. Give it vibrancy and presence. That’s exactly what meditation is about. If you do that for 20 minutes a day, even for three weeks, this will trigger a change.

Who gets on your nerves at the monastery? My nerves? Once in New York, when I was promoting one of my books, a very nice journalist lady said, “What really upsets your nerves when you arrive in New York?” I said, “Why do you presuppose anything is upsetting me?” It’s not about something being on your nerves. It’s about trying to see the best way to proceed. Paul Ekman6 once asked me to remember when I got really angry. I had to go back 20 years: I had a brand-new laptop, my first one, in Bhutan, and the monk who didn’t know what it was, he was passing by with a bowl filled with roasted barley flour and spilled some on it. So I got mad, and then he looked at me, and he said, “Ha-ha, you’re getting angry!” That was about it. I get indignation all the time about things that should be remedied. Indignation is related to compassion. Anger can be out of malevolence.

Not to reduce 2,500 years of contemplative science to a single sentence, but is there a thought that you can suggest to people that they can carry in their minds that might be helpful to them as they go through life’s challenges? If you can, as much as possible, cultivate that quality of human warmth, wanting genuinely for other people to be happy; that’s the best way to fulfill your own happiness. This is also the most gratifying state of mind. Those guys who believe in selfishness and say, “You do that because you feel good about it” — this is so stupid. Because if you help others but you don’t care a damn, then you won’t feel anything! Wanting to separate doing something for others from feeling good yourself is like trying to make a flame that burns with light but no warmth. If we try humbly, with some happiness, to enhance our benevolence, that will be the best way to have a good life. That’s the best modest advice I could give.

What’s the wisest thing the Dalai Lama ever said to you? I remember I came out of this one-year retreat to take care of my father.7 At the same time I was interpreting for the Dalai Lama in Brussels. So I told him: “I’m going back to the retreat. What is your advice?” He said, “In the beginning, meditate on compassion; in the middle, meditate on compassion; in the end, meditate on compassion.”

Sorry, are you wearing an Apple Watch? Yes.

Why does a Buddhist monk need an Apple Watch? I walk in the forest. I try to count 10,000 steps to be healthy at 77 years old. I don’t do many interviews anymore, but when I do, I usually don’t put this on, because the first thing the guys say is “Why do you have an Apple Watch?”

I realize this is a question that no one on the path to enlightenment would ask, but broadly speaking, am I on the right path?

You? Yes. [Laughs.] I mean, I cannot make a clinical examination, but I feel that you resonate with ideas which are dear to me. So that’s a good sign.

I’ll take it! If you had said, “Oh, that’s all rubbish” — you know, once there was a French journalist, very cynical, and he said to me, “This thing about becoming a better person and all that, this is the politics of the hash trade.” I don’t know what he meant. But what I said was, “My dear friend, if genuinely trying to become a better person and do a little good — if that’s the politics of the hash trade, I’m happy to spend my whole life in the hash trade.”

[arkangles]

having recently turned 21 and also navigating a lot of rly difficult personal stuff i’ve been thinking a lot about how i’ve changed in the last few years and one of the things that has hit me the hardest is the natural fatigue that comes with being a feminist and the envy i have often started to feel towards women who feel indifferent towards the concept of feminism because there is something so inherently exhausting about being constantly aware of the systems in place against you and the fact there is so very little you can do about it. this also links to something i’ve been feeling very aware of recently but have struggled putting into words which is this feeling like my feminism will actually never grant me the empowerment it promised me as a young teenage girl. i had this feeling throughout most of my teenage years that when i hit eighteen i would be overcome with a complex understanding of what it means to be a woman and how to deal with it all when in actuality getting older just makes you more aware of how inescapable and crushing it will always be. i feel like i become a worse feminist every day. when i was fourteen i used to spend hours arguing with boys at parties at whatever asinine misogynist comment they had made and now i’m too exhausted and aware of how little power i have to change anyones mind that i dont even bother. i miss my teenage self and how angry she was. i want to feel that anger again instead of just being tired.

#shes posting confessional writing on tumblr! should we throw a party? should we invite joan didion? #in other words #girls go thru 1 heartbreak and start writing mini essays on the complexities of their relationship to feminism

[thebozemantroll]

Black Hole In A Blue Sky: Montana’s Ugliest Secret

The history of the Wild West, despite its self-congratulatory Hollywood grandiosity, is so often one of good intentions, human decency and hard work poisoned by the greed and jealousy of petty tyrants who cannot see any further than their own evil egos. For civilisation is always the story of law and order for the majority replacing meaningless corruption of the few.

One man’s decade-long black secret of sustained hatred of others, of Cyberstalking, Trolling, and attempted destruction of other people’s lives - men, women and children - if it were publicly broadcast, would be the greatest scandal in Bozeman’s history. If decent people of Bozeman discovered the truth of Troll Central - that basement of horrors - the shame to himself, to his wife, to his family, and to his friends who trusted him and believed his psychotic stories; all that life would end in a blaze of public revulsion, with no place left for him and his family and the people that stood on his side to hide.

Bozeman has a right to know the truth of this Troll so that Bozeman’s proud story of literature, law, legend and learning can add another step forward; that into that small black hole in its blue sky is consigned to the rancid memory of America’s worst Cyberstalker, and Bozeman’s society can finally be cleansed of the stain of a predatory and malignant narcissist.

Surrounded by Montana’s stunning natural beauty, mixing with fine people who share a lifestyle within that glorious environment, lives a delusional and psychotic old man with a heart overflowing with hatred. He’s a tragic paradox: a sick black hole in a sky full of light.

Alone in his basement for more than a decade, his life has shrunk to one obsessive focus, hating other people. Not former friends or even relatives, but total strangers living on the other side of the world. People he has never met and whose lives he could not possibly understand.

He chooses his targets at random, yet they all appear to have one thing in common. Their success in life reminds him of his highly successful brothers, of whom he is intensely jealous. Not just because they have achieved national and even international renown, but because he was a family failure who by comparison appears to have achieved nothing positive in life.

But what he has carved out for himself, alone in his delusions of being a journalist and surrounded by multiple fake identities, is international notoriety of a type that would sicken the stomachs of his loving mother and highly respected scientist father.

He is what the British Police term a ‘Fixated Loner’. Hiding behind a keyboard, working day and night trying to destroy other people’s lives, he is the modern Wizard of Oz. A tragic, psychotic freak, overpowered by his vicious obsessions, desperately in need of psychiatric help that he’ll never receive.

What he has received instead is a complex net that is rapidly closing around him. In fact, two nets. The first net is of widespread disgust at his pointless cruelty for cruelty’s sake, buttressed by his brazen self-righteousness: matching in every respect the modus operandi of the classical psychopath for whom other people’s pain is his greatest pleasure.

The second net is the removal of old freedoms. Where, for over a decade, he has exploited the indifference of his online hosts to his criminal behaviour, he has been booted off by online adventure, academics and other forums for abusing every privilege they offer in good faith.

Recently Google, in Australia has closed down his extremely defamatory websites and hundreds of linked pages. Across the whole of Europe, Google was ordered to shut down his extremely defamatory websites and hundreds of linked pages due to severe GDPR violations. However, Australian Police still want him for questioning over a death threat and lawyers seek to impose a fine for GDPR violations.

As this net tightens, he is becoming increasingly desperate and defiant, like the thwarted angry teen he really is. In an eruption of violent defamation he constructed a new website that he must have hoped would restore his campaign of public tyranny. However, the owners of the platform took one look at this outrage and removed his website, cancelled his domain and have banned him for life. There is no doubt he will try to exploit other online platforms and free web building templates, but it is equally clear that the owners do not want such abuse polluting their commercial reputation, and will boot him off at a moment’s notice.

What this represents is a powerful new dawn in the previously lax tolerance by authorities for internet outrages. Now they are cracking down, and any online psychopath seeing a clear blue sky ought to realise his days are numbered. The world is signalling it has had enough of Keyboard Cowards who lack a moral compass or any form of empathy for those whose lives they intentionally destroy, along with the social fabric that is also torn apart as collateral damage.

Media outlets are increasingly reporting the successful prosecutions of these sick creeps. Here are some recent cases, where Trolls, Cyberstalkers and their cowardly ilk are going to prison for lengthy periods for violating the lives of innocent people. Trolls are being targeted by authorities who have had enough. The game is basically over for them.

These news articles reveal the public revulsion of Trolls and Cyberstalkers. The list of Prosecutions in the US and Australia are rapidly expanding.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8067353/Man-jailed-five-years-cyberstalking-Parkland-school-massacre-families-shooter-Cruz-Ted-Bundy.html

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-10443607/He-ruined-lives-Women-reveal-ordeals-Hands-online-stalker.html

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-9856197/Cyberstalker-58-jailed-ten-years-mentally-Torturing-woman-met-online.html

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-6048853/Cyber-stalker-harassed-woman-14-years-Ended-high-court-ruling-police-did-nothing.html

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-11039083/Stalker-44-obsessed-former-Doctor-star-Billie-Piper-banned-visiting-postcode.html

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-11005581/Victoria-Beckham-scared-husband-Davids-Stalker-turned-homes.html

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Hi can I request a peter parker x barnes-Rogers reader (steve and Bucky's daughter) and me and Peter find out I'm pregnant with Peter's baby and we try to keep it a secret but everyone is suspicious of us cause I've been really poorly lately and Peter is being overprotective and one day Peter accidentally says "don't do that it could hurt the baby" or "and everyone freaks out and me, Peter and my dads have a long talk but everything is fine thanks xx

Unexpected

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rogers! Reader

Requested?: Yes!

Word count: Almost 7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, some angst but thats it I think?

Author's Note: Yessssss this was so fun to write! Very excited to be back to posting on this page again. Thank you so much for the request! Hope to start adding in more content soon, so if yall have any requests feel free to send them in! And if you have requests sent in already, know that I love you and I will be getting to clearing out my inbox here pretty soon 🥰

Taglist: @just-that-bi-girl , @winterfrostsarmy

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

In retrospect, the entire team should have realized what was going on with you a lot sooner. To their credit, most of them had noticed that something was different about you, but other than Nat and Wanda none of them had a guess as to what exactly that was. 

The men appeared completely clueless in respect to the cause of the recent changes in you. Even Clint, a married father of three, hadn't caught on even after he'd seen you leaving the bathroom having clearly just thrown up. Tony had been the closest to figuring it out of the all men, having noticed your odd mood swings and crying fits as they became more and more frequent. He noted the same behavioral pattern as he'd found himself stuck in after the Battle of New York, and secretly worried for your mental well-being. He hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the topic with you just yet though, instead opting to watch you from a distance for the time being. 

The women, however, seemed to understand almost instantly what was going on. Nat had figured things out once she realized that you had been skipping training lately and noticed that you and Peter barely appeared to leave one another's sides for even a moment. Wanda based her guess almost solely upon the fact that she could just feel that something was different about you; your entire energy had changed in the last few weeks and she noted it even before Peter had. Both women had their suspicions, but had seemingly agreed to keep their thoughts to themselves until you were ready to tell the team what was going on. 

Your dads were a different story altogether. 

It took Steve and Bucky much longer to notice something had changed with their daughter, Steve longest of all. Either you'd done a great job of avoiding your Pops or he'd been incredibly unobservant (or more likely both), but he hadn't seen anything that he would've considered out of the ordinary for you. 

That is, until today. 

"AAAAUUUUUUGGGGH"

Steve was on his feet in an instant, sprinting into the kitchen at the sound of your enraged scream. He skidded to a stop and surveyed the room with a trained look for the source of danger, but found none. In fact, you and Sam were the only two in the space as far as he could tell. Sam's back was pressed snugly against the furthermore countertop as you practically cornered him, the older man clearly caught off guard by your sudden burst of rage. You flung your hands around wildly as you yelled, one gripping a box so tightly that your knuckles were beginning to turn a concerning shade of white.

Completely bewildered, Steve watched in stunned silence for moment as you fumed and screamed expletives at the slightly-terrified looking Sam, without any clear indication as to what had happened. 

"I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHO-"

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" Steve scolded you finally, momentarily stopping your verbal assault. "What in God's name is going on here?" 

Your eyes turned to your Pops' briefly before flickering back to glare in Sam's direction. 

"Pigeon-brain ate the last of my oreos," you seethed, walking forward and jabbing an accusatory finger to Sam's chest, his hands instantly flying upwards in surrender.

 Steve felt his jaw drop in utter disbelief.

“You-,” 

“What’s with all the commotion in here?” Bucky interrupted, striding into the kitchen much as Steve had moments ago and joining his husband's side with a confused look on his face. Steve crossed his arms and frowned at their daughter. 

“Apparently our daughter is screaming at Sam because he ate her cookies.” your Pops explained tersely.

“Not cookies, oreos,” you muttered, glare never wavering from Sam. You furiously threw the offending empty package roughly at his still bewildered face in lieu of another expletive. Sam was evidently so bewildered, in fact, that he didn't even flinch as the box hit his head and bounced pathetically to the floor. 

Bucky raised his eyebrow. 

“And that’s why you’ve been screaming like that?” he confirmed. You nodded, arms crossing your chest stubbornly. 

Bucky shrugged, looking towards his husband with a look of indifference. “Makes sense.”

“No, it absolutely does not make sense,” Steve lightly scolded, glancing at Bucky with a pointed look before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N you’re completely overreacting. Apologise to Sam right now.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you gaped at your dads with an expression that was equal parts betrayal and rage. 

“No.”

“No?” Steve repeated incredulously. He stared at you with disbelief, looking between you and Bucky like he was hoping he’d somehow misheard you. You met his glance with an equally stubborn look as you planted your feet solidly beneath you and tightened the cross of your arms. “What do you mean, no?”

“You heard me,” you spat, unwavering. 

Sam merely looked confused as he watched the two of you argue, if albeit still a bit scared, but Bucky was sure his shock was evident on his face. You never back-sassed your Pops, not even when you were really angry, and Bucky only felt his disbelief grow at the prospect that your attitude was all due to a few cookies. 

"Y/N, you don't get to tell me no," Steve ground out carefully, voice stern with a rare sort of parental authority he seldom had to use with you. In fact, Bucky was pretty sure he hadn't actually heard him use this particular tone since way back when you were a toddler testing the limits of your dads' patience. But unlike your three-year-old self, you didn't back down at your Pops' disapproving tone; in fact, you met his intense stare with a flippant roll of your eyes, deepening your dad's shock at your abrupt behavioral shift. 

"He fucking knows what he did, everyone knows those oreos are mine," you snapped, eyes alight with a kind of fury the likes of which your dads had never seen from you before. 

"Language!" Steve gasped at his daughter, his authoritative tone giving way to a spluttering one of complete disbelief. 

"FUCK OFF!" you shouted instantly. 

"HEY!"

Bucky had officially had enough. Irritation blossomed deep within his chest at the hurt he saw wash through his husband's eyes at your vulgar screech. Teenaged angst was one thing, but it was entirely another to blatantly disrespect Steve like you were. He still didn't know what was really causing you to act like this--because no way in hell could this be all over some oreos-- but he'd definitely passed the point where he even cared. 

"Doll, that’s enough. Clearly you're upset, but you cannot speak to your Pops like that," he practically growled. You turned your attention to your dad with the same kind of indignant irritation in your eyes, a flash of fresh anger rolling across your face at the sight of Bucky's equally irate expression. 

"You can fuck off too," you spat.

 Bucky's jaw clenched dangerously, the muscle in his cheek jumping and twitching as he took in his daughter's crass retort. Sam had long since left the scene, the nearly suffocating tension officially too much for him to take. Steve's eyes went wide for what felt like the millionth time since he'd first walked into the kitchen. If he hadn't known something was wrong before, he undoubtedly did now. 

You may not disobey him often, but you never snapped at Bucky. 

Steve had long since accepted that, though you loved the two of them the same, you'd always liked Bucky more. A daddy's girl from birth, you and Bucky had always been inseparable-- so for you to now scream and curse at him like this was like a flaming-red flag in Steve's mind. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

"Excuse me?" Bucky hissed. The two of you faced one another, arms crossed and expressions grim. You planted your feet even more solidly underneath you, staring your dad down with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. If it weren't for the overall tension of the situation, Steve might've teased the two of you for your near-mirrored positions. 

"Y/N? What's going on, I thought I heard yelling?" Peter asked as he practically skidded into the kitchen. He immediately joined you, face morphing into a look of utter concern at the sight of yours and Bucky's standoff. Steve braced himself, mentally apologizing to Peter for the verbal assault that was surely coming his way. 

But it never came. 

It was as if all the unwarranted anger was sucked from your body in a rush as soon as you caught sight of your boyfriend. Your face crumpled into an anguished expression, and Steve could see how the tears welled up in your eyes instantaneously. Peter clicked his tongue in pity and you thrust yourself instantly into his awaiting arms. He gripped you tightly, and you eagerly buried yourself further into his embrace. Face smashed tightly against his chest, you began to sob uncontrollably.

Your dads gaped at the scene, wide-eyed. 

"S-sam ate my oreos a-and now everyone's mad at me, and I j-just wanted my snack!" you all but wailed, voice muffled by Peter's body. 

Bucky blinked once as he turned to his husband, total confusion written all over his features. Steve just gaped in response, unable to formulate a semi-coherent thought, let alone words. 

"Oh angel, it's okay," Peter cooed softly into your hair, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you continued to cry. "I can go and get you more oreos; don't cry Y/N/N, I'll just run down to the store right now to get you some."

Lifting your head from his chest, you seemed slightly placated and hopeful as you sniffled and looked up at him. 

"C-can I come with you?" you asked him shyly, tear-stained cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at your childish request. Peter smiled fondly down at you, clearly happy to see that you were feeling better. 

"Of course, it'll be nice to walk with you," he smiled sweetly at you and lightly kissed your nose. You giggled as you removed yourself from his embrace before walking over to your dads. 

"M'sorry I shouted daddys. Love you guys!" you apologized in a chipper voice before kissing both of the men's bewildered cheeks. 

The two supersoldiers both stood in stunned silence as they watched you leave hand in hand with Peter, who briefly shot them an apologetic look before the pair were gone. Steve thought he heard Peter mumbling something to Y/N as they left, but the only words he could pick out were "not good to get so worked up", which only confused him further. 

"What in the hell was that?" Bucky grumbled, face still crinkled with bewilderment. Steve simply shook his head. 

"I have absolutely no idea. I've never seen her behave like that, have you?"

"Nothing like that, but she was acting funny the other day too," he frowned, recalling the scene he'd walked in on just a few days prior. "She was full out sobbing on the couch a few days ago over a toilet paper commercial."

Steve gaped at his husband. 

"Sh-she...what?"

"Doll have you seen your Pops? I can't find him any-"

Bucky's question died in his throat as soon as he hit the threshold of the TV room. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees as sobs racked through you. Peter sat next to you with his eyes crinkled in concern and hands rubbing gently at your shoulders as you cried. 

"Y/N what's wrong, why are you crying?" Bucky asked. Feeling his protective instincts kick in instantly,  he couldn't help but search the room with his eyes in search of any danger. Finding nothing, he narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

"Did he do something?" Bucky demanded. "Parker I swear to God if you hurt her I-" 

"What? N-no I didn't do anything Mr. Bucky I swear!" Peter spluttered, eyes widening in fear at the terrifying look in your dad's eyes. 

"Bullshit, then why's she crying like that? Of course you did someth-"

"N-no it's not P-peter dad!" you interrupted tearfully. "There was an ad on TV that just made me emotional okay? You know, the one with the boy crying in the bathroom and his dad offers him toilet paper for his tears?"

There was a beat of silence. 

"Doll, you really mean to tell me that you're sobbing over a toilet paper ad?" Bucky asked, brows furrowed in disbelief. You sniffled as you nodded, and fresh tears began to pick your eyes once more. 

"Yes! I mean it's just so inspiring," you blubbered. "I mean how often do you actually get to see a teenaged boy cry on TV? Never, cause toxic masculinity standards in this stupid patriarchal society we all live in say otherwise! And not only does the dad accept that his son is crying and is allowed to feel real emotions, he sits down to talk with him about them! I just got so happy thinking about all the little boys who will see this ad and feel the validation that they're normal for feeling sad every once in a while!"

Bucky just stared at his daughter with a blank look for a moment; he looked like he was unable to formulate a single response to the information he'd just been given. 

"Well that's...uh….that's great I gue-"

"I can't believe you would just assume that me crying just had to be because of something Peter did," you interrupted, angrily brushing the leftover tears from your face. "It's so unfair, you always blame him for everything!"

"I-uh," Bucky stammered, flustered by the sudden change in your emotions. You scoffed and stood quickly from your spot in Peter's embrace, crossing your arms petulantly. 

"It's true dad, you're always looking for something to yell at him for! It's so biased and unfair," you practically yelled. "Honestly it's such prejudiced bullshit. Some kind of outdated 'lock up your daughters' rhetoric that I can't believe yo…"

At some point during your impassioned speech you began stomping away from both your dad and Peter while still ranting. As your shouts became fainter and fainter Bucky found himself directing his dumbfounded expression at Peter instead. In a rare show of solidarity with your boyfriend, Bucky silently begged for an explanation as to what on earth had just happened. 

Despite the way his heart was hammering wildly in his chest Peter remained silent. He offered only a passive shrug to your dad before he clambered to his feet and began following after you. If Bucky hadn't been caught so off guard he surely would've been suspicious at the visible sweat that was beading on Peter's forehead and the way the young boy's hands trembled as he quickly left the room, the question of what was causing your mood swings laying thickly unanswered in the air. 

"What the fu-"

"She...a toilet paper ad? Really?"

"Yep, a friggin' toilet paper commercial," Bucky nodded solemnly. Steve blinked once, shaking his head. 

"So what did you do?" he asked incredulously. 

"Nothin'," Bucky shrugged. "She was so damned worked up that I figured she needed some space, and by the time I went to talk to her she'd already seemed completely fine. Thought it wasn't worth upsetting her all over again."

Steve snorted. 

"Yeah right, you were just too scared you would make her mad again," he chuckled. 

"Hell yeah I was," Bucky admitted freely, crossing his arms and shooting his husband a defiant expression. "You've seen her, you know how terrifying she can be when she's pissed!"

Steve chuckled once more, shaking his head fondly. 

"Mmmm, and I wonder where she got that from."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and scowled at the implication, a surly look overtaking his features. Steve couldn't help but laugh outright at the expression on his husband's face; it was the exact same face you always made when you were annoyed, right down to the little pout in your lip. 

"For the last time Stevie, she doesn't get that from me," he grumbled. 

"Sure Buck, whatever you say," Steve laughed. 

Though your odd behavior and mood swings were at least now on both your dads' radar, neither had any clue as to the actual reason for your sudden changes. The pair of them chalked up the incidents to little more than teenaged angst, however they had no idea how wrong they were nor just how soon they were about to find out what was really going on. 

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

"I don't understand Y/N," Steve stated carefully. "Why exactly don't you want to go with the team?"

You shifted your weight from foot to foot anxiously, huffing out a breath in mock annoyance and very real frustration. 

You'd been in the training room, lightly working out with Nat and Wanda when your Pops and Tony had walked in to announce that there was an urgent mission that apparently would require the entire team. Internally cursing your timing, you'd tried to sneak out of the room unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, your dad caught you. Now you were stuck arguing with your dads, the attention and curiosity of everyone in the gym directed at you. 

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you furiously racked your brain for some way, any way, out of this assignment and this conversation without an actual reason. 

Well, a reason you were actually willing to give, that is.

"Why does it even matter?" you snapped, hoping that no one clocked the tremor in your voice. "It's not like you guys even need me anyways."

"Doll, you always jump at the chance to come with us," your dad interjected. "So what's so different about today?"

"I just don't want to," you whined, lying through your teeth. "I'm tired and I don't feel good."

"But you were literally just training?" Sam pointed out. You narrowed your eyes at him, irritation bubbling under the surface of your anxiety at the contradiction. The older man shrank back a bit under your firey gaze, the previous incident in the kitchen clearly prominent in his mind as he stepped behind Wanda. 

Clint snorted. 

"If you could even call that training," he mumbled under his breath. Your jaw dropped. 

"What is this, gang up on Y/N day?!" you sassed as your arms flew to cross your chest defensively. Your Pops shook his head. 

"We're just worried Y/N/N," he reassured, brows furrowed with concern. "You've been behaving very strangely lately, and this is just one more thing."

"Yeah doll," Bucky nodded, agreeing with his husband. "So what gives?"

Your pulse sped up once more at the direct question, a sickening feeling rising in your throat like bile at the realization of just how suspicious your dads were. Unable to think clearly through your panic, you did the only thing you could think of. 

You scoffed in fake disbelief, rolled your eyes, and began stomping out of the room. 

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" your dad shouted in an indignant and angered tone. "We are not done talking about this!" 

Damn. 

"What?!" you whirled around, stomping your foot like a child. "I just don't want to go this time okay?"

Bucky's face turned red at your open defiance, but Steve interrupted before he could even open his mouth to snap back at you. 

"No Y/N it's absolutely not okay," he scolded. You felt the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes as they searched desperately around the room, mind racing to think of an excuse that would get you out of this situation. 

"But-"

"No, no buts Y/N," your dad barked, clearly having composed himself enough to speak once more. His arms were crossed as he glared at you, and the stubbornly annoyed look on his face was enough to make the tears in your eyes begin to fall. A feeling of utter entrapment and fear settled in your chest like a suffocating weight as you felt the hot, fresh tears stream down your cheeks. 

"Doll, are you crying?" your Pops questioned incredulously. "What on earth is going on with you?"

"Nothing! I just can't go today," you blubbered, past the point of being able to hold back your sobs. 

"You can't go, or you won't go?" Bucky asked pointedly, evidently not swayed by your tears. 

"It doesn't matter," you cried desperately. Your dad's eyes bored into yours directly as if he was searching your brain to find out what you were holding back from him. 

"It clearly does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this," he continued harshly. "I'm not sure what it is you aren't telling us, but I don't even care at this point. Stark said he needs everyone and your Pops told you to go, so you need to get yourself together and go and get ready."

The tears were now cascading down your face in giant streams and your face was growing warmer by the second. You darted your gaze back and forth between the other team members' faces, still searching for some kind of last minute way out of this situation. Finding only curious or concerned expressions, you turned back to your dads with wide eyes. You felt your mouth go dry as your lips open and closed wordlessly, the severity of your current predicament weighing you down more and more by the second. 

"I-"

"No. I don't want to hear another word from you Y/N," your dad snapped. "Go and get ready for the mission now."

"But she can't go!"

Time stopped for a split second as the entire room's heads snapped towards the desperate shout.

Peter had only just entered the training room, wondering where everyone was, when he caught the tail end of your dad's order. He couldn't help but blurt the first thing that'd come to mind, the implication of which only dawned on him afterwards. As he rushed to your side he shot you a sheepish look, and you internally cringed a bit at his slip. 

Even though you were certain Peter's involvement would only further reduce your already slim chances of getting out of this mission without a full confession of what was really going on, you couldn't help but feel an inkling of relief as his eyes locked with yours. His hand immediately intertwined itself with yours once he'd reached you, and your belly fluttered with a warm tinge of comfort with the simple touch.

True, things were probably about to go sideways for the both of you, but at least Peter was here to go through it by your side. 

"Excuse me Parker?" your dad spat incredulously, eyes blazing with anger at your boyfriend's outburst. "I don't recall asking you for your opinion on my daughter or what she can or can't do."

Peter stood a little taller as he looked Bucky straight in the eyes with an unprecedented amount of determination. 

"She can't go." he practically growled, eyes stern and unyielding as he openly defied your dad. He was standing a half-step in front of you, tense back partially shielding you from the rest of the team as he spoke.

 Even with his face turned the opposite direction you could see from his profile the way his brows were furrowed and how dark his normally chocolate brown eyes had gotten. You felt a slight shiver run up your spine at the fiercely protective energy Peter was radiating, and your heart felt a bit lighter at the way he stood up to your dad on your behalf. You squeezed his hand in an effort to ground him, and he softened marginally as he glanced back at you.

Your dad however looked as if he might combust soon based on the way his eyes bulged out and his face turned a concerning shade of red. 

"What's that supposed to mean Peter?" Steve interjected carefully, his hand reaching up to rest comfortingly on his husband's shoulder. 

"It means exactly what we said," Peter said firmly. "Y/N cannot go on this mission today."

The team watched the interaction between you, Peter, and your dads with their heads bouncing back and forth between the four of you like they were watching a tennis match. Not a word had been uttered from a single one of them, and yet they stood completely transfixed as they waited patiently to see the outcome of the argument. 

"And why, pray tell, is that Parker?" your dad hissed, scowl etched across his features. 

Peter's eyes traveled to yours, irises swimming with a silent question. Realizing that there was no way out, you took a steadying breath as you nodded softly and squeezed his hand once more in reassurance. Peter smiled at you fondly before dropping his smile and turning back to your parents. 

"She can't go because...it could be bad for the baby."

You could've heard a pin drop in the training room. No one made a sound, no one even dared to breathe. The shock in the room was palpable, but you couldn't be bothered to even glance at anyone other than your dads, their reactions the only two that mattered to you in this moment. 

Though you'd expected a rather explosive reaction from your parents (especially from your dad), you were met instead with blank stares. Your dads were simply staring at you and Peter in stunned silence, and their lack of a response actually frightened you more than the screaming you'd been anticipating for weeks now. The beat of silence seemed to stretch on eternally, though in reality it was probably no more than thirty seconds. You watched nervously, your hand becoming sweaty in Peter's as you waited. Finally, your Pops blinked and opened his mouth cautiously. 

"Bad for the wha-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD PARKER THAT'D BETTER BE SOME KIND OF DISGUSTING PET NAME FOR MY DAUGHTER."

Ahhh. There it was. 

Your dad had clearly broken through his frozen thoughts enough to respond, and you would've laughed if you weren't so terrified. He looked positively furious; his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them and his face had darkened from red to an almost purple color that looked painful to say the least. His murderous gaze was hyper-fixated on Peter, and you couldn't help but step in front of your poor boyfriend in an effort to take some of the heat off him. 

Peter, evidently, was having none of that, and he frowned before pulling you backwards and tucking you into his side tightly. If you hadn't been so focused on your dad right now you might've rolled your eyes at his over-protectiveness. Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of his embrace as you took a steadying breath. 

"It's not," you responded as calmly as you could manage while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your throat. "I'm pregnant."

Silence enveloped the room once more, and you could've sworn it was even more awkward than the first time. It must've been, because you could see Nat and Wanda ushering the rest of the team out of the gym out of the corner of your eye. You weren't quite sure if you were grateful for the privacy or more scared of how your dads would react now that you were alone.

Your dads stared at you and Peter with wildly different expressions. Steve was staring off into space and looking as if he was either going to throw up or pass out soon, and Bucky still looked as if he was about a half a second away from murdering Peter with his bare hands. To his credit, Peter was still standing by your side with the same look of determination as before despite this, but you could feel the way his pulse was hammering through his veins as he too carefully surveyed your dads' reactions.

You stood quietly, trying to be patient as you watched them, but the suspense and anticipation quickly became overwhelming and you couldn't help but blurt,

"Say something!"

Though both their gazes snapped up to your face with your plea, yet neither your dad nor you Pops said anything. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to explain yourself. 

"I know that you're probably in shock or angry or maybe both- and honestly that's completely fair!" You rambled breathlessly. "I know we're still only eighteen, but I really think everything's gonna be okay? Really, I do. And I'm so sorry about today, believe me this isn't how we planned on telling you at all bu-"

"You're not coming on the mission," Steve interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Nor is Peter. Your dad and I will be back later, and we're all going to have a long discussion."

It felt like all the air was sucked out of your body as you watched your Pops pull your dad towards the training room exit. You hadn't been fully sure of just how you were going to tell them, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that it would come out like this. Tears once more welling up in your eyes, your heart sank as you realized just how disappointed and angry they were. 

"I love you," your voice cracked as you called to their retreating forms, unable to bear the sight of them leaving without reminding them. They both paused in the doorway, and without turning back both muttered that they loved you too before they were gone. 

As soon as they left you immediately twisted yourself and thrust your face into Peter's chest, the tears flowing steadily as you sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shaking form, lips finding the crown of your head and hands rubbing soothingly across your back. 

"Th-they hate me now," you whispered brokenly into Peter's soft hoodie in between sobs. "They hate me Pete, they're n-never going to forgive me for this!"

Peter shushed you quietly, gentle lips kissing your hair as he began to sway you back and forth slowly. 

"They don't hate you angel," he soothed. "They're just surprised. Disappointed in the timing maybe, but they'll get over it. I promise."

"I never wanted it to go like this," you cried as you pulled your head from his chest slightly. Peter's hands left your back for a moment to come and rest on either of your cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before retreating upwards to look deep into your eyes. 

"I know you didn't sweet girl, but it did," he said gently as he brushed away some of your tears with the pads of his thumbs. "It did and it's going to be okay. We'll talk to your dads when they get back and clear everything up. And no matter what, you and I are going to get through this together, okay?"

You sniffled softly, nodding sadly. Peter's eyes were swimming with guilt and dejection at the sight of the empty expression on your face. He didn't know how to comfort you in this situation, but it was like every molecule in his body was demanding he do so. He leaned down once more to press a loving kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. 

You sighed, head retreating back to his chest once your lips disconnected. Sadness was still swirling in your stomach and you just longed for the feeling that being in Peter's arms brought. He seemed to understand perfectly- as he always did- pressing his cheek to the top of your head and wrapping his arms tightly around you without a word. The two of you stood there for a while, bodies entangled as you continued lightly swaying back and forth. Peter's hands continued to roam up and down your spine and your tears began to slow and dry. 

Eventually you hummed, stepping back and up on your toes to press an appreciative kiss to Peter's face. He smiled as a faint pink tinted his cheeks at your display of affection. You giggled, slightly amazed that even after everything you two had done, something as simple as a peck on the cheek could still make him blush.

"Thank you," you said quietly, looking up into his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at you in confusion. 

"For staying with me through all that. I mean it's you, so I wasn't really worried...but my dad can be really frightening. So thanks," you half joked. 

Peter chuckled lightly as he pulled you back into his arms once more. 

"Of course angel. Told you, I'm never going to leave you. Even if your dad is super scary. You two are stuck with me now. I'm never ever going to leave you or our baby," he vowed quietly into your hair as his hands reached down to rub the small but growing bump in your tummy lovingly. "We're gonna get through this all together, as a family."

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, but this time out of sheer love and happiness.

 Damned hormones. 

"You're gonna be such a good daddy Peter," you whispered gratefully. Hearing the slight crack in your voice, Peter pulled you away from his chest gently to wipe your tear stained cheeks once more. 

"Hey now, no more tears today," he scolded playfully as he tugged you across the room. "When's the last time you ate something? We have the whole kitchen to ourselves now, and I bet my babies are hungry!"

You chuckled lightly as you allowed him to pull you along with him towards the kitchen. All the while, he chattered happily about the new article he'd just read about the specific nutritional needs pregnant women have, and your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were still apprehensive about the upcoming conversation with your dads, but you were definitely feeling better. As much as their approval and involvement would mean to you, you'd come to the conclusion that as long as you had Peter by your side everything would work out alright. 

Somehow.

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

"Petey, are you sure you don't need any-"

"No! Nope. I've got this," your boyfriend interrupted stubbornly. You signed, hand absentmindedly rubbing across your swollen stomach as you watched him struggle with the latch on the new crib the two of you were setting up. 

Well, the crib that Peter was setting up. 

It'd been a few months since the team had found out about the newest upcoming addition to the Tower, and you'd decided that it was time to begin decorating the nursery. Tony, of course, had offered to have someone come in to do all the heavy lifting, but Peter was insistent that he be the one to set everything up. His protectiveness over you and the rapidly growing child you were carrying had only increased as the months went on, so much so that you were lucky now if he'd even let you stand for long enough to watch him put the baby's furniture together. It was endearing, really, how much he cared for the two of you, but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't becoming a little frustrated with how little you could do to help. 

"Really Peter, I can help," you grumbled, annoyed. "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

"Of course you could help angel, but I don't need help," he grunted, eyes never leaving the mass of parts around him. "You already have to do all the work of growing and housing our baby, the least I can do is build the crib!"

"Housing?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow.

"You know what I meant," he grumbled, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his growing frustration. 

Peter was clearly losing his grip just a bit as he struggled to make sense of the instructions that had been provided with the pieces. He sighed, throwing the pamphlet down on the ground before trudging over to where you stood, leaning against the changing table that he'd put together a few days ago. 

"I've engineered web-fluid from absolutely nothing, re-built computers from scratch and yet I can't even manage to put this stupid bed together," he whined as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder in defeat. "M'gonna be a terrible father."

"Ohhh bubs," you cooed sympathetically, smile falling quickly and heart lurching at the tone of pure dejection in his voice. 

You wrapped your arms around him, one snaking around his back and the other cradling his head. Your fingers began instantly carding through his chocolate-brown locks as he nuzzled his nose lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His hands wound their way around your waist too- or as well as they could with your round tummy in the way- and his own hands began absentmindedly tracing patterns over your bump.

"Peter you have to know that isn't true," you soothed, kissing his cheek softly. "You're going to be an amazing dad."

He hummed non-commitally. 

"You think you're not?" you challenged, fingers halting their dance against his scalp. "Do the thing."

He raised his head from your shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion. 

"What does that have to do with-"

"Do the thing," you interrupted sternly. He sighed and knelt down, grumbling inaudible complaints as he went. Once he was face to face with your bump he placed his hands on either side, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your stretched-out skin.

"Hi baby, it's me, your daddy," he spoke softly into your stomach, lips so close that you shivered with each breath that ghosted over your clothed belly. "I love you so much."

The baby responded instantly at the sound of Peter's voice, feet jabbing out and kicking excitedly from within just underneath where his hands lay. You felt your heart skip a beat at both the feeling the movement in your belly and the sight of the dopey smile that lit up Peter's handsome face as he felt his child's kicks. You rubbed over his hands lovingly and smiled down at him.

"See bubs? He starts throwing a party in there every time you do that. He loves you so much already, that's not gonna change," you reassured him softly. Peter's smile dropped just a little. 

"But the crib-"

"Fuck the crib," you responded stubbornly. "You are the most caring, sweetest, and most thoughtful person I know Peter. You're going to be the world's best dad."

"Whoa whoa, believe we're the ones with the mugs that claim that title," a voice chuckled from the doorway. 

You smiled fondly, eyes darting to find the sight of your Pops leaning casually against the frame of the door with your dad standing just behind him. Both had amused smiles on their faces, and you grinned widely. Even Peter smiled as he rose to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around your back to pull you into his side. 

"Okay, third best dad in the world then," you amended, grinning. 

"That's better," your dad piped up, smiling. "Now what's this I hear about a faulty crib? Sam said he can hear Peter cursing all the way from his room."

Peter groaned, tilting his head backwards in exasperation as you laughed out loud. 

"It isn't faulty, I'm just an idiot," Peter grumbled. Everyone but him chuckled, and your dad walked further into the room. He clapped a hand on Peter's back as he grinned at the younger man. 

"Normally I'd agree with you, but I know if I do Steve will bring up how Y/N had to sleep in the bassinet for like 6 months because we couldn't figure out how to put her crib together."

"You mean you couldn't figure it out," your Pops snorted from his place in the doorway. "As I recall, I was not allowed to help with the furniture because you were determined to figure it out on your own."

Bucky shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his husband's insinuation. 

"Whatever. Point is, I wanted to see if you wanted some help putting it together. Thought I might be able to give you some tips," your dad continued. Peter's smile widened, and he nodded eagerly before your dad knelt down to help try and make sense of the directions.

The discussion after the incident in the training room had gone much better than you would've ever imagined. Both your dads had been relatively calm once they'd returned from their mission, and surprisingly there had been no screaming, no crying, and no threats towards Peter from Bucky like you'd been picturing. The four of you had sat down together and had a long, mature discussion of what your plans were in terms of raising and caring for your child, and by the end your dads had even seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of being grandparents. Their involvement and excitement had only grown in the following months to the point now that you felt silly for ever having been frightened to tell them. 

And now as you stood watching your boyfriend and dad work together to put your child's room together, tears began collecting in your eyes and you felt your chest warm with feelings of overwhelming love. Steve, noticing your tears, moved to wrap his arms around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. Rubbing your belly lovingly, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for the men in your life and love for the little one that you'd all be meeting soon. 

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