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mirrorballtales · 10 months

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Current Top Thirteen Songs I’m Listening to and the Reasons Why I Think You Should Listen to Them Too 💜☀️⛱️🏰⚡️(in no particular order)

1. Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift It’s been a looooooooong time coming. I am sorry but this being the opening intro to The Eras Tour is so iconic. I could watch that every single night and cry every single time. I cannot believe I’ll get to experience it twice!!! 🩷

2. I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift “IF A MAN TALKS SHIT THEN I OWE HIM NOTHING.” “They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one. SO LIGHT ME UP!!!” One of the best live performances ever and definitely the best one in Rep Tour 🖤 🐍

3. Electric Touch (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift God this is one of the best vault tracks. It’s like early 2000s again. You’re on a first date. You’re watching a romcom. You’re absolutely head over heels for the guy or girl. You’re scared. But you take the chance. “ITS EIGHT OH FIVE AND I SEE TWO HEADLIGHTS!!!” 💜

4. Foolish One (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift “Foolish one the day is gonna come for your confessions of love.” 💜 I am so lucky I did not have access to this in High School. ACTUALLY, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache if she had released this from the vault back then. “YOU ARE NOT THE EXCEPTION. YOU WILL NEVER LEARN YOUR LESSON.” Cue the tears!!! The last lines when she sings that. Please I break down.

5. seven by Taylor Swift It’s just beautiful and inspiring. 💚 “And I’ve been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted, your dad is always mad.”

6. illicit affairs by Taylor Swift “DON’T CALL ME KID. DON’T CALL ME BABY.” I need this song injected into my veins. 💚

7. august by Taylor Swift “SALT AAAAAAIR AND THE RUST ON YOUR DOOR.” I get to hear this, live, in August. Yes I win. 💚

8. Mastermind by Taylor Swift “I’m only cryptic and Machiavellian cause I care” oh I think I wrote this song ;). Yup. I am a mastermind. “You see all the wisest women had to do it this way. . .” 💙🌙

9. Timeless (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift I thought Lover was her most romantic song but this wins. It’s another beautiful vault track. This is for the history girlies. 💜

10. You’re On Your Own Kid by Taylor Swift “I HOSTED PARTIES AND STARVED MY BODY LIKE I’D BE SAVED BY THE PERFECT KISS.” 💙🌙

11. False God by Taylor Swift Listen I Can See You is totally her wanting to f*ck that man. Physical. But False God? Oh it’s subtle. It’s sexy. It’s raw. Carnal. Familiar. It’s a cosmic connection. The worshipping of bodies and souls. It’s deeper. “We might just get away with this. . .” 🩷

12. Dear John (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift Her older voice is my undoing. I break down each and every time. I wish I could tell her how much this song means to me. It truly cradled me in my loneliest nights and saved me in all the ways one can be saved. “Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with. The girl in the dress cried the whole way home. I should have known.” 💜

13. Don’t You (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift This is my number one vault song. And my number 2 all time favorite song. I am sooooo glad I did not have access to this in high school. “I swore I wouldn’t do this.” “Don’t you say you miss me if you don’t want me again.” 🧡

**Bonus songs I rotate with a song from the list above

• Hits Different by Taylor Swift Love this vault track from Midnights. The bridge kills me. CATASTROPHIC BLUES! ARGUMENTATIVE ANTITHETICAL DREAM GIRL 💙🌙

•Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift Just listen to it. Crossing that bridge with Taylor will be the highlight of my life! 🩷

•Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift Do you guys realize she references Castles Crumbling in this song, like, “my castle crumbled overnight.” I am going to throw up. I WANT TO WEAR HIS INITIAL ON A CHAIN ‘ROUND MY NECK CHAIN ‘ROUND MY NECK, NOT BECAUSE HE OWNS ME BUT CAUSE HE REALLY KNOWS ME. I RECALL LATE NOVEMBER HOLDING MY BREATH SLOWLY I SAID YOU DON’T NEED TO SAVE ME BUT WOULD YOU RUNAWAY WITH ME 🖤🐍

•So It Goes by Taylor Swift “You did a number on me but honestly baby who’s counting?” Obsessed!🖤🐍

•Treacherous (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift No explanation. It’s a masterpiece. “And I’ll do anything you say if you say it with your hands.” ♥️

•Long Live (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift It will sound like gatekeeping, and I promise I am not, BUT, I truly believe you had to have been there from the start to truly appreciate what this song means. To hear this live 12 years ago, and now that it’s hers again, she added to the setlist. I cry. She literally wrote it for us, her fans. This really shows how she does it for us. I get choked up every time. If you didn’t defend her in 2014 when Kim and Kanye lied then sorry you can’t claim this song. I don’t make the rules :) “HOLD ON TO SPINNING AROUND. CONFETTI FALLS TO THE GROUND. MAY THESE MEMORIES BREAK OUR FALL. WILL YOU TAKE A MOMENT? PROMISE ME THIS. THAT YOU’LL STAND BY ME FOREVER BUT IF GOD FORBID FATE SHOULD STEP IN. AND FORCE US INTO A GOODBYE. IF YOU HAVE CHILDREN SOME DAY. WHEN THEY POINT TO THE PICTURES, PLEASE TELL THEM MY NAME. TELL THEM HOW THE CROWDS WENT WILD. TELL THEM HOW I HOPE THEY SHINE. LONG LIVE THE WALLS THAT CRASHED THRU. I HAD THE TIME OF MY LIFE WITH YOU!” 🏰💜🐉

•Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift Taylor Lautner remains the best ex-bf ever. And the only one to receive an apology song. One of the best written songs ever. Sorry but TEAM JACOB! 💜

•This Love (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift I could drift into a peaceful slumber with this song. 💙🕶️

•Daylight by Taylor Swift “And I can still see it all in my mind. All of you all of me intertwined.” 🩷

•Picture to Burn by Taylor Swift OH SHE WAS ANGRY. Her twang is so cute. CLASSIC COUNTRY TAY. And she sounds so young. One of the best songs from her debut album. I can’t wait for this re-record. 🦋🩵 BURN BURN BURN BABY BURN!

•New Romantics by Taylor Swift “PLEASE TAKE MY HAND AND PLEASE TAKE ME DANCING AND PLEASE LEAVE ME STRANDED ITS SOOOOO ROMANTIC.” Oh the way I listen to this and just love being young(ish). 💙🕶️

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invisiblegarters · 11 months

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Tokyo In April Is...Eps 1 & 2

Okay not even five minutes in and I like this already. I've missed Japanese BL. There's just something about it. Japan is always so so good at longing.

The middle school versions of Ren and Kazuma are very well cast and utterly adorable.

I can already tell that I am going to dislike Sanada intensely. I feel like there's one of those in every office, and it blows, and I always, always have trouble with antagonists that are too true to life. I tend to get a lot more ragey with them because I know that there are people like that out in the world.

Not every office has a Ren to help, though. I only wish it did. /currently having flashbacks to very similar circumstances where I had to eat the accusation and apologize. Thankfully it wasn't in front of an entire office though.

Man, Ren is a flirt. I like, although I feel like poor Kazuma has some confusion in his future because of it.

Man, where's my cute office mate bringing me delicious bento? Fake office dynamics!

Oh, yeah, people definitely thought that there was something there as far back as middle school, and Hide definitely came close to asking about it.

Wait wait tell him what? Why is he crying? NO explain show!

(spoiler: show does not explain)

Hm. At first I wondered if we were going to be dealing with homophobia here, but I no longer really think that's the case. Why would Hide dude be crying about that? And with the talk of Kazuma being hospitalized for a month and him losing his phone, I'm wondering if maybe it's less about homophobia and more about Ren falling apart somehow when that happened - is that how they wound up separated?

The talk of rumours is what made me think homophobia but now I wonder if people thought he had died? I don't know if I'm missing something or if I'm supposed to be this confused.

It's a mystery, and yes I will be poking at it right up until the show deigns to reveal it. I can't help myself. Although I guess it's based on a manga so it's also possible that I will just find that and spoil myself because self-control? I don't know it.

And do we have an ex, now? I really like his hair.

Damn, here I was thinking that Kazuma was being unusually forward for this type of show and then he goes and throws out the friends word. If you want to be more don't -

"Let's head to bed."

Well, then.

Okay, I'm interested. I'm just so happy that MBS extended their drama shower for 2023, and as I said, I've missed JBL. Whatever else goes on, they almost always nail the thirst.

My only quibble was the acting from the young Ren and Kazuma at the scene outside the love hotel. It seemed very stilted but I have to guess that was the direction, because they nailed everything else, especially the initial fireworks scene.

Both of our leads are engaging me, but right now Kazuma especially. He's so open (even though it's super easy to see how and why Ren is hesitant with him - he's open but reserved - things he says can easily be interpreted as friendship even if he's not entirely acting like/saying the things a friend would). That said, there's also something about the way that Ren is with him that has me feeling like he might wind up being the one that hurts my heart most in the end. I guess we'll see.

There's something so deliciously achy about two people with a thwarted first love meeting again and maybe getting a second chance. I'm so here for it.

#tokyo in april is...#shigatsu no tokyo wa...

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krafterwrites · 1 year

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Krafter Lore Masterpost

This is mostly just for people in the Eternal Afterparty server, but if anyone ever asks what's wrong with me, I can send them this post as an explanation. Here's, in roughly chronological order, a bunch of my lore

Part of my right ribs is just caved in for some reason. I have no clue why

When I was little I accidentally swished with water from a cup that had previously been used to hold water from our septic system (THE CUP WAS EMPTY AND DRY WHEN I FOUND IT AND THE WATER I SWISHED WITH WAS FROM THE TAP, I guess it just hadn't been cleaned because it was a plastic lego star wars cup). After my dad told me this, I freaked out because I thought I was going to get very sick/die. I vividly remember eating milk and graham crackers while very upset that night

One time I was watching All Hail King Julien while nauseous, and when Mort threw up in the show, it caused me to also throw up

I went to a trampoline park for some kid's birthday party, and they were putting this gas into the air to keep the park clean. It smelled bad, and it made me dehydrated. I also couldn't find the ingredients of it, so that was concerning

I dreamt I was in a McDonalds and slowly going further and further into the future of the McDonalds, eventually the McDonalds was in a creepy and evil forest and all the food sucked

I dreamt that I found Spamton and kept him as a pet, hiding him under my bed and giving him a laptop to scam people with

I dreamt that I went up and talked to some guy, and upon talking to him, the world around me faded and he said something about reality. Then I walked into a school gynasium and did some weird dark magic, which consumed and killed 8 people as part of a sacrifice. The dark magic that ate(?) them formed a big pillar, and then the pillar opened up, and the fucking Among Us imposter walked out of it. I killed 8 people in a sacrifice ritual so I could become an Among Us Imposter (Also Lulu thought I was hallucinating this because I think I forgot to mention it was a dream)

The Haunted Ring. I've already talked about this one so much, ask one of my friends about it

I dreamt that a tiny version of Scourge (Like about as high as my ankle) showed up in my room and started running around, so I trapped him under a cup and then released him outside

I went to a mini-golf course and had a pretty horrible time for several reasons. 1, it was like a hundred degrees out and there was no shade, so I was melting in the sun. 2, after finishing the golf and probably almost getting heatstroke, I got my mom to buy me so lemonade. I drank half the bottle, but it tasted funny, and then I realized that it had been expired for 3 years. I got bored, so I went over to some guy sitting on a bench to give him advice about the expired lemonade, but I stopped myself right after I began talking because I realized the guy was THE OWNER OF THE GOLF COURSE, WHO I HAD JUST BOUGHT SAID LEMONADE FROM LIKE 10 MINUTES AGO. I ran back into the golf course and hid on it because I was so embarrassed, even though I had stopped myself in time

Some anon last year kept asking me why Tails was full of love, like 4 times. They stopped sending in the asks after I said "Because he has love stored in his tails"

I got an anon saying "Krafture the flag" who I talked to for some time, and eventually found out who it was (It was Mikey and one of his friends)

I watched the entirety of Death Note in one day, I started watching it at about midnight while playing Minecraft, and kept going until I reached the end of the first half (Where L died) because I felt like I was going to die. After waking up at 2 PM, I ate some delicious fast food chicken and watched the second half. It turns out that I missed two entire episodes, though, which I watched several days later

I think that's all of the major ones, I am very tired right now though so I almost definitely forgot a few. Oh well

#Krafter Talks

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bipolylingual · 3 months

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A little (anti) capitalist dream

My personal thoughts on commitment to oneself, jobs, time blindness, sensory overload and third places.

Because of how I’m naturally inclined, I wish I’d have the following happen to me. I want to be forced to wake up for work, and then, once I’m on the bus to town, be informed that I have the day off. Yes, that is what I would like. At a fresh but not painful hour, like 9 o’clock in the morning, I would get up and spend no more than 35 minutes getting ready. Why is that time, and whatever I accomplish in that time good enough on my work days, but not on my days off? Somehow my hair looks good enough barely styled, the outfit I throw together will do and I don’t procrastinate filling my cats food bowl and scooping her shit. I gotta go, got a bus to catch and a day to live. I do not have (make) time to eat, which sucks and I rely too much on working in a grocery store inside a mall, which could be its own capitalist comment. Plus the food offered there isn’t even that great.

Anyway. That morning routine might not sound nice to everyone, but to me, the other version is much much worse. Or has the potential to be. I’m realising that having that one bus to catch leaves little room to think. In the best way. So then getting ready on my day off, can so fucking easily slip into becoming my own personal hell.

The languidity of it all. When does luxury become boring? When does eating cake make you feel sick to your stomach? And we all know time is a luxury. So, the fucking sweaty, slow, indecisive, fussy languidity of it all. That is the reason I would love that kind of day, why I need to feel like I’m going to work and am expected at the precise time. And when am I the most interested in the world and looking at what new stores there are in town and looking at other people and writing my ideas and sketching in a coffee shop and buying gifts for an upcoming birthday and reading poetry?

Standing under the fluorescent lights in my uniform that came with the nearly minimum wage.

Maybe my personal hell or curse is just wanting to be somewhere other than I am.

So I wake up, realistically closer to 11 o’clock. I check the weather and try on an outfit. Then a different top. Nope. Where are those pants? Okay, I’m not making the bus I wanted to (not had to). I find an outfit, I’m already a bit sweaty, the hair at the back of my neck irritates me. I sit down to do my makeup. (I want to get out of here. Into the temperature the outfit is meant for, get started.) Yet I find myself going through my saved Instagram posts, my saved Tiktoks for makeup inspiration. (This was supposed to be a functional step to get me out. Of. the. house.) So not the time for inspiration and fucking brainstorming and definitely not trying something new that I will probably hate. After finishing that part, which I either love or can physically feel on my face which makes me want to rub my skin off, I need to pack. Oh, my cats food. I check the time and see I’ve missed the next bus I was going to take. I tend to my cat, rub her small head and finally, the air hits my face.

It’s almost 1 o’clock.

I need to keep moving in order to not scream and completely melt down at that realisation or at my still-sweaty back or still- empty stomach, and try to keep it out of my mind how few hours of daylight there are left.

The library is free and quiet, but I think the air is pretty bad because I feel lethargic so soon, while cafés are nicer but loud with cramped wobbly tables and of course the overpriced drink or snack aka entrance fee. So much for third spaces.

I am aware that these things wouldn’t change in the case of my dream day, but I know my tolerance of them would. When I have a good day in town, I do not think like that.

So on my dream-day I embody much more of what I want to be. The kind of woman I want to be. Effortless, yet, with a purpose. Driven by inspiration and a foundational belief that of course it must be pursued. Because I’d only live the first half, the tight scheduled, extremely efficient morning. Not the second half where I’m an adult that has to stand for 8 hours and ask permission to go take a piss.

I’d leave my house slightly frazzled in a chic way, with a book or two in hopes of reading on the bus. I’m listening to music I like. I have five minutes, so there isn’t room for much else in my head. No room for doubts about my clothes or makeup (or lack thereof) or what I brought or didn’t bring with me. I’ve started my day and it’s only onward from here.

They say perfectionism and procrastination go hand-in-hand. That’s why I need that cut-off, you know? I must leave at that time, no wiggle room and once I’m out, I’m out. No going back and perfecting. No going back and fussing.

That’s difficult to feel when I’m not accountable to anyone but myself. And unfortunately, how it feels, rules everything.

So I sit on the bus, bright and early and watch the beautiful sky. I am free because I’m confined to my schedule. After a while I’m a ways away from home, and I get a phone call. Or a text message.

And all at once, my day is mine again.

I get off the bus in town. After all, I’m already here! It’s only mid morning. I’m not ideally prepared, but I’m dressed, I have all my essentials and nothing but time and a bright sky. I do not think about how overpriced the coffee is, or how one table leg is too short. It doesn’t feel like so much of a nauseating indulgence, as much as that I have been granted permission. Again, I'm already here. I marvel at how much (potentially) fruitful time I have ahead of me. The very best hours to get things done, in fact, according to modern society. Because we all know not all hours of the day are created equal. I look out the window and make a plan. And if it turns out I didn’t bring my notebook, it's okay, because my neck isn’t sweaty and I can just use the computer at the library.

#capitalism #free time #sensory issues #time blindness #audhd

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recolourrhys · 4 months

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1 and 14 for the ask game please!

1. Show your most recent wip

Well. That would be a redraw I'm doing of a piece from the summer bc Rory's design has changed a lot LMAO I haven't started anything "new" yet!!

OC art gets posted to @digirhys bc I keep this acct just for fanworks!✌🏻 so that's where the final for this will go (a cropped version at least. The full will go on cohost)

14. How has your art changed over the years?

Oh boy. In almost every way possible, I think!! Save that I am still keenly focused on character art, from my love of storytelling :0

From a technical aspect my art has of course changed and improved tremendously from when I started drawing when I was still single digits lol the inevitable outcome of never really Stopping Drawing :V

I don't have records of old traditional art as much, so the oldest art I have that isn't toddler art was from when I was around 11-12 – those aren't these lol but I started using dA when I was a young teen, so I have those as archives of what I was doing digitally (the left group of drawings are from that first dA acct, as far back as when I was 14 :Y

I think on the more con/critical side of things, my creativity has been severely stunted. In part I think that's a natural progression of thinking as I've aged, but one I know can be combated! It just takes an active effort and approach to work creativity and whimsy like a muscle, and that's something I know I haven't done a great job of :'3

It's bittersweet looking at old art where I can see how much fun I was having and how there were no inhibitions, no worrying about things being OP or cringe or "Mary sue". It's heartwarming being able to see that passion in my own art, and simultaneously i feel a bit guilty n ashamed that I've let a lot of it get worn out of me by Life, in part by things out of my control;;;;;

It is DIFFICULT to throw those cares aside again! Almost all of the storytelling I used to do was in collaboration with friends I fell out with, and it was a bit of a slap in the face to realize last year/during 2023 that I never really told stories or built characters on my own, and it's been hard for me to find that joy and passion. I loved what I was doing with friends and miss that feeling of community, but I think it's important and I want to learn how to create and tell stories primarily for myself now, too. What's been most difficult initially is fighting against a feeling of embarrassment just while simply brainstorming – it was a lot easier to throw caution to the wind and just revel in the Fun of Creating Whatever when surrounded by ppl making things with me with the same abandon!! TTwTT when we're all having a good time who cares if anyone else thinks it's silly, yanno?

I haven't quite figured it out, but that's one of my goals this year. I love doing fan stuff too when the inspiration strikes but I definitely want to put more energy into working on My Art, and figuring out what stories I want to tell and the characters involved. I think it'll be a big step, making the effort to make that shift, in helping to further heal my relationship w art in general and continuing to relearn how to love it and the messy, sometimes frustrating processes :'3

#rhys speaks #not art #dinchenix #long post

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sailsonthehorizon · 1 year

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Lost in prognosis

Lateral thinking. Over thinking. A mysterious medical misery (try saying that after a few pints...).

Random photo just because. Pentax MV / Ilford HP5

The other day I went out on the ebike for 21.42 minutes. I also cleaned out the chickens (5 minutes) and drove to the supermarket for a bottle of don’t-judge-me single malt whiskey (15 minutes).

The following day I was so incredibly tired and so incredibly sore I couldn’t even face reading, as the pain in my arms was too great to even hold the sodding book. I dictated this is into my phone, to tidy up at a later date on the laptop.

I don’t know what is going wrong within me. I’ve been tested for pretty much every muscle disease and autoimmune condition under the sun, bar rarer types of muscular dystrophy and motor neurons. At 3am of course it is MND, brains are not renowned for being overly positive in the wee hours.

Better days - lateral thinking

So on days when I can face the bike, or a coffee date, or a short trip out I am a positive, alternative thinking version of the broken me. Can’t walk far? Use the scooter. Sun shining on the hills? Drive out to a view point and take the camera. I can almost accept what is happening by making different choices. Adapt to perform, don’t let the b*****d get you down and all that far-too-overly-positive ‘warrior’ stuff.

Facebook memories reminding me that I’ve achieved and done some pretty darn cool things. Go me.

Bad days - over thinking

Then there are the murky days, currently outnumbering the blue sky days by about 5:1.

Can’t walk far? Hate who I am, feel utterly pointless, Google shop power-chairs. Sun shining on the hills? Throw massive self pity party and irrationally start resenting my friends (obviously very lovely and totally justified!) Facebook photos of fell walks and days out. Not a ‘warrior’ in any sense of the word; disgustingly self obsessed, hiding away, too embarrassed to be seen as someone I don’t recognise or accept.

Facebook memories reminding me that even a year ago I could do so much more. I miss sailing SO much.

People say - with only the very best of intentions - things along the lines ‘at least it’s not *insert well known chronic condition here*’. As if by remaining nameless It is a manageable, harmless condition. I suppose it does make the conversation a bit easier, and I’m absolutely not going to shoot anyone down for trying to make me feel better.

I know It isn’t harmless and I can’t seem to manage It. I’m swinging on an exhausting pendulum between trying to ignore it because it feels too messed up to be true, and forcing myself to use the words ‘I need help’. Help with the kids, help with the housework, help with the boredom. It is relentlessly progressive and is speeding up. This year is the toughest yet. I have been saying that every year since 2018, but with each increase of toughness comes a whole new level of acceptance to somehow get under control.

I admit I don’t know where I’m going with this, I think I just needed to get something out there. Will attempt greater positivity, a half decent structure and definitely more photography next time!

Until then, thank you for sharing this with me, and peace out. ✌️

#Film Is Not Dead #Photography #35mm #35mm Film #Film Photography #No Filter #PentaxMV #Embrace The Grain #B&W #B&W Photography #Colour Photography #Photo Blog #Disability #Disability Awareness #Chronic Pain #Disability Blog #analog photography

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affectiondeficitdisorder · 2 years

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Nostalgesia and Abandoholism: Confusing Longing and Love

I got an email from a reader the other day, and boy did I relate to some of her comments. She spoke about feeling “incomplete and bored and nostalgic” without a qualifier (aka crush or love object) to obsess over. “Nostalgic” is the perfect word to describe the love addict’s feeling of longing. We love longing, because longing feels like love. We wallow in wistful, sentimental longing for a blissful past that was probably more blissful in memory than reality. Or we long for a perfect future, a candy-colored fantasy of true love. It’s a nostalgia so powerful it anesthetizes that existential pain every addict carries inside. Call it “nostalgesia.”

We addicts are defined by longing — or, to use a word more closely identified with addiction, “craving.” The tricky part is that you can’t long for something you actually have. That’s the definition of longing. So being in a relationship by definition does nothing to make the pain of longing go away. Even the love addict who is trapped in one of those unhealthy, dangerous codependent relationships is longing for a version of that relationship that only exists in their imagination. Nostalgesia.

The next neologism is from psychologist Susan Anderson. This column from Your Tango does a Five Things wrap-up of “abandoholism,” the perverse attraction to being abandoned. I grok abandoholism. It’s a two-pronged mindfuck: First, there’s chasing after people who are obviously unavailable. As the old song put it, “How can I miss you if you won’t go away.” Then there’s being the person who is, down deep, unavailable yourself because if you’re not really with someone in the first place, they can’t really leave you.

But here’s the thing about addictions, whether to Jack Daniels or Jack and Danielle. They work, until they stop working. And we won’t give them up until what they’re doing to us outweighs what they are doing for us.

As my new pen-pal put it: “Sometimes I don’t want to heal, but I want to control my addiction enough to keep motivated on living. Of course I’m smart enough to know that I can’t control it, and it’s just matter of time before I get in trouble again.”

Very old joke: Granddad catches teenager masturbating. Tells him, “If you keep doing that, you’ll go blind.” Teenager replies, “Can I just do it until I need glasses?” That’s how we are with sex and love addiction. We don’t want the bad parts — the divorce, the unemployment, the STD’s, the godawful pain of withdrawal — but neither can we envision giving up the champagne sparkle of anticipation and infatuation. If we stop acting out entirely, won’t we be throwing the baby out with the bathwater?

Note to self: There is no baby. There is only bathwater, and it’s pretty dirty and I think someone pee’d in it.

I smile every time a love addict goes into therapy or joins a self-help group like SLAA with the specific goal of getting in a healthy relationship. It’s kind of like going to AA so you can enjoy a cocktail at Happy Hour. I’m not saying love addicts in recovery never find partners. I’m saying that if my life focus is on finding love… if I define myself by my relationship status… if my self-worth is determined by whether or not men find me desirable… if I am incomplete without a lover… that’s not recovery. It’s kind of the opposite.

“I keep putting myself in situations where I get into trouble again.” That’s another line in the letter that I related to. Continually doing the same thing and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. In AA they joke about the “ism” in “alcoholism” standing for “Incredibly Short Memory.” I don’t know about you, but “This time is different” is the inciting incident of every dumpster-fire of a romance I’ve ever embarked upon. It isn’t even a conscious thought. It’s more like waking up a week or a month or a decade later and realizing, “That wasn’t different at all. That was the exact same thing with different hair.”

So let’s stop glamorizing nostalgia. Whether it’s your grumpy uncle longing for a Mom-and-apple-pie America that probably never existed, or you longing for a soulmate who probably never existed either. Ditch the nostalgesia and make room for the here and now, because that’s where it’s all happening. Literally.

#love addiction #sex addicition #romance #drugs #love addict #recovery #abandonment #withdrawal #relationships

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mellow-worlds · 9 months

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I keep thinking about the video "Noel avec la famille". It's a strange and beautiful video and I wish I could live in that video. I wish I knew those people and I wish I was one of those people. They fit together so well. They're weird and they are able to casually film their interactions and I wish I lived in that video.

I do sometimes take videos. Sometimes I edit them. I never directly take videos of people and they're mostly not seen in those videos at all. My sibling is the only person I dare film directly like that. But I haven't done anything with files where you can see anybody's face, out of fear. But that's kind of besides the point. My point was not about it being a video, but about the people in the video.

I'm lonely and dissatisfied, aren't I?

I've also been thinking about D quiet a lot again. Occasionally about Snoopy, but I don't really care about that. I think that I'll never really see them again. Why? Well, let me tell you about how I'm the biggest bitch, backstabber and copycat. S decided to never really want to see Snoopy again, despite them sharing quiet a special connection in the past with them. Well, yeah, that's the story pretty much. Yeah. Aren't I the worst person ever? Well, maybe the story does go a little deeper than that, but still. Those are basically the facts. EEEHHH I don't really feel like talking about that :((((( I hate myself and I don't want to confront myself with more reasons to hate myself

Ok maybe it WOULD help if I explored that a little bit further. I do enjoy conversations with Snoopy, but I'm afraid of getting any closer to them. They already know a lot about me, but still, I do hide a lot of sides from me and it creates a version that nobody else knows has ever seen. I'm glad that it's over with Snoopy. We don't work well together. They're kind of super violent. I have nothing against violence per se (I mean it doesn't get you anywhere especially politically but ig it's fun), but they're angry violent. I remember they were telling me about how they were annoyed while waiting for a dentist appointment and literally throwing their chair around. They once lifted their hand pretty quickly while walking next to me and I kind of winced. They even noticed it and said that if there's something I wanted to talk about, domestic violence is not a joke, maybe it was a reflex because of my domestic life blablabla. They're just... So angry. They experience emotions kind of intensely, I think. Maybe not sadness, and definitely not stress, but even their excitement is violent. So yeah. Talking with S (and T) about that and seeing that V also distanced himself from them kind of gave me a push into that direction, making me realize that it's good that I'm walking away from them, despite enjoying spending time with them and finding them funny and interesting. It kind of really freaks me out that they know so much about me. Too much. I wonder how much they've talked about me to other people I really should get to know S better, shouldn't I?

Ok, thinking about D. It's mostly just that they're kind of at the back of my head and I miss doing things with them. I think about the crazy things we did together quiet a lot. I listen to quiet a lot of music similar to what they also might like. And the Beatles ofc. Ok, let's leave that topic behind us. I don't want to keep thinking about them more than I have to, I don't want to start missing them again like crazy because it really hurt and I don't want to hurt. I am sad but it could be so much worse so I'm glad I'm currently not missing them. I guess I do long for friends in general? Gosh I'm so sad and lonely. I guess it could be worse.

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simpingwriter · 10 months

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Jerome Valeska

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

pt.3

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Playing 20 Questions, what better way is there to bond with each other!

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 4.706 Words

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"I don't know what the fuck you mean, Carrotboy." Was that really the best your stupid fucking brain came up with?! Bruce would be disappointed hearing your pathetic attempt at talking yourself out of this situation.

Almost as bad as the day Gordon deduced you as being the girl behind Phoenix and all you said was: "Wha? Me? Phoenix? Nah, old man." All while standing right next to Batman as casual as you unfortunately could be for an apparently all normal Gothamite. But today was really one of the days you could've used your brain to work for you and not against you.

Sometimes it felt like your brain was a mini version of Jason, throwing a set of Tim's DnD dice every morning just to decide whether or not it would be helpful or a menace/bother to you.

"Sure. And I am blonde." Yeah yeah, you get it, you really weren't good at lying sometimes, shut up buddy-boy. "Why do you care if I am or not?" You ask back instead, without explicitly confirming or denying his question either way, coughing a bit from the dust on the floor you disturbed by letting yourself fall onto your knees. All other cells beside yours and his were empty once more…the guard really decided to lock you two away. This felt like a less terrible Solidary.

You really shouldn't have thought too soon when you saw that Solidary Holding Sign last time…this is all dragging your time for this investigation out. This is going to take foreverrrrrrrr. You feel yourself go insane already, alone at the fact that you're here already for one and a half days and you hadn't made ANY progress.

"I just…it's weird. I have been here since a whole hellish month now and no one gave a fuck about me, except if they could steal my lunch or push my head into it." It's not like the food here is very missable, you bet. But it would explain why he looked a bit…thin…for his age and height. "Hungry then, I'm guessing?" "Fuckin' starving, girly."

You hum at that, placing your forehead against the rough gray bricks of the wall that was between you two. "If they at least wouldn't have locked me in here as well – after all its not like I can't stand up for myself –, I could have gotten us something. Doubt it's worth it though? Tastes like dog food?" The ginger on the other side chuckles, wincing out audibly due to some of his healing facial wounds though, "You betcha, but if it's the only thing you get here and you got no connections to the guards, it's gonna taste at least mediocre very soon."

Let's hope you're not here for too long to test out his assumptions on the food.

"So if you're not an inmate…who are you? A guard they snuck in? To hear us out? Are they perhaps suspecting a breach?" Guessing you as a guard wasn't too far off. You didn't know him, you didn't know if one of your siblings or even Bruce caught him and threw him in here, so you would definitely not reveal your identity as Phoenix to him. That would be so fucking stupid either damn way, you didn't reveal that to even your best friends. After all it was an incredibly important rule next to the "Do not kill your enemy." Rule. A rule you and Jason regularly acted like it doesn't exist. Oops.

Never reveal your identity to ANYONE without Bruce's explicit permission. Not just for the protection of the Family's secret and their safety but also for the safety of the people you're all close to, both those that knew you all as the masked heroes/vigilantes or as the normal citizens you're outside of Patrols or missions.

"Not a guard. Don't you think you would've seen me before then?" While you continued talking to him, your eyes scanned the surroundings a second time, hoping you missed something but you got the sense you would have to use some of the things you sneaked into the Asylum. The positives of being a female "Inmate" while only men were on shift for registration? They couldn't legally frisk you, even at Arkham. "I don't know. As said, been here for a month only now…you could've been on vacation beforehand." "Trust me, what I actually …my job doesn't even know what month-long vacations are. A weekend...maybe." You stand up from your dusty, dirty spot on the floor, brushing your now cement-dusted hands off on your already nasty looking prisoner uniform before slipping a small black plastic object from your cleavage. Big tits had their various perks on various occasions, like great hiding spots for small tools. Like your trusty, assorted lockpicks in the form similar to a pocket knife. Never going anywhere without it.

"...Are you still-" He stops himself when he hears a small click from the side of your cell, then the "quiet" sliding of a metal door. And when he turned his head, you were already outside his own cell, crouching over to work on the lock of his cell door. His eyes widened at how quiet your footwork seemed to be that he didn't even hear you walk out of yours and over to his cell. "How did…how are you not afr- " "Shhh, I watched their pattern yesterday, that of the guards. They periodically take 20 minute breaks while the cells are empty and are usually gone for another extra 15 because why the hell should they watch empty cells after all, right?"

He watches you pick the lock with no sweat caused, nodding a bit unsure at your explanation, not knowing any better himself as he crawls backwards slowly once you slid his cell door open as well, not shutting it fully behind you as well to get out again more quickly once you had to.

"Yeah no…you're definitely not a guard. Fucking hell…who are you!?" You squint at his defensive position, looking up at you from his small, almost curled up spot on the ground. His black eye was healing better than you expected for the fact that he seems to be missing the important minerals and vitamins to have his body heal his wounds at a normal rate. Depending on how long you're stuck here as well, you had to somehow get him something to eat…perhaps you could bribe a guard to get him actual food. Not the other…"food". Eh, disgusting.

"Fine, I'll tell ya. But first of all, get off the damn floor, you look at me like you think I would stomp your head in. Why should I beat you up after I stopped that SUV-build of a man from taking care of that job? Makes no sense at all." He must've realized so too, looking to the side in embarrassment before using the wall next to him to stand up and move over to the "bed" in the left corner of the room, next to the wall of your cell.

After one night on them already, your comfort-spoiled back cracked like a nightlight stick this morning, you were way too used to the comfy, perfect mattress of your bed at home…hmm, not too soft, not too hard…

You snap out of your daydream when you see the confused tilt of his head, waiting for your reveal and your explanation. First though, you had to make something sure. "How are the wounds?" He frowns a bit, yet shrugs, "Nothing I didn't have to deal with before…" Was he a street kid before he was taken here? You then would expect him to be just slightly better at defending himself, or at least at avoiding the grudge of others.

"Street kid?" "...Well, no. I was able to avoid that at least. I uh…nevermind." "Fine, then I'll keep my secret as well." You claim boldly, throwing yourself next to him onto the hard bed, nearly touching him at how close you came by accident.

Sitting this close, you were able to look at his bandaged face much better, his suddenly wide open eyes revealing what a beautiful shade of dark green they were. What a shame that he was probably absolutely nuts, the slight sign of usually probably very obvious freckles on his face would almost melt away your first opinion of him: Inmate in Arkham, hands off.

"W-what? No! I wanna know…" "How 'bout a game then? 20 Questions." "That...is not a game."

It was to you and your adoptive siblings, well, when you all were still younger at least. It was the best game next to 'I spy with my little eye' to pass the time with on Patrol and to you it was the early bonding time you often missed out on with them back then in your own opinion. It was a good trick to make them be a bit more open about themselves, maybe it worked with the Ginger too. "It is, you just don't have enough imagination i guess. 20 Questions, no lying. Deal?" Stretching your hand out towards the pale one in his lap, you smile sweetly at him. If all of Arkham already hates you two, why shouldn't you two team up at least?

"...Deal. But I ask the first one." Sure, why shouldn't he, if it makes him happy.

"If you're not a guard, who are you then?" Didn't expect any other question, to be fair. But you made the rules yourself, no lying. Well, to a degree with this question, you definitely wouldn't reveal your identity THIS easily, to an Arkham inmate even less. "A Detective Aide." It wasn't a complete lie, you're technically under questionable contract with Jim, in case the media ever wondered how you, a normal citizen, ended up at so many of the crime scenes, seemingly helping the real Detectives with their jobs.

"...wait. You're with the GCPD??" Seems like you struck a sensitive spot with that already, even his bruised eye opening a bit alongside his other one from the shock as he scoots away from you by a few inches. "I'm guessing the GCPD then caught you for whomever you killed?" His green eye caught your dark blue ones, he looked like a deer in headlights, "Y-you could say that. Yeah…I was finally free and they threw me back into a new cage…"

Finally free?

"My turn. What the hell is your name anyway, I don't want to keep calling you Ginger or Carrotboy for all eternity." "Well, unlike me, if you're working with these corrupt dickwads, you aren't exactly stuck an eternity here, are ya?" Well, it heavily depends on how long they would let you simmer in the cells and nothing else. Might as well become an eternity with your usual amount of luck.

"...oh…and it's Jerome. Jerome Valeska. Yours?" Huh. You swore you heard that name somewhere before, you just didn't know exactly where. If he killed someone, he might've been in the news that day? Though this was Gotham's newspapers you're thinking about here, if they'd waste even an inch of paper for one measly murder case, it'd be really fucking odd.

But a mass murder caused by the Joker's Laughing Gas? Yeah. That would probably manage to find a spot. Somewhere.

"I take that as your second question, Jerome. My name…well, first I need you to promise to not utter it to anyone in here." "Do you realize that they'd punch my teeth out before I could even mention it?" Point taken at that, yeah, who even knew if they would believe him if they already wanted him dead for some reason.

"My undercover name is Magdalena…but my real name is Faith Wayne."

Till now, all your answers already sent some kind of fresh shock anew through him, so once more he stared at you in disbelief, "Faith…Wayne?! You're a-" "Wayne isn't an uncommon surname, mind you." He pulls his brows up, having a hard time believing you, not that 'Wayne' is common for a surname. But that you're not A Wayne.

"But are-" "Yeah." "Damn. …How did a Wayne end up as an Aide? I would expect you to someday get your father's company…or at least work there by now." And be hated by all of Gotham, not just its mass of criminals!? HA. NO!

"I...would rather not…too much work, which I already got enough of on most days." Cleary your answer only spawned more fresh question marks in Jerome's head as he kept looking at you just as lost as before. "Adopted or…"

"Biological."

"So…with you knowing that I am a Wayne, yay, you basically know where I live alread-" "Some extremely extravagant old-money house I am guessing." Nail on the head, yeah. You nod at that, in a 'More or less' way before you pick your interrupted sentence back up, "Where did you live before your address was changed into Arkham?" He had started picking at his fingers, especially the dry skin around his nails as he pulls his lips into a grimace. His home didn't give him good memories then, like most people that were here now. You doubt there is even one Inmate in Arkham that didn't have at least one bad or even terrible memory of their old homes.

"A…a traveling Circus. Does Haly's Circus ring a bell?" Ring a bell?! It was etched into your mind from your brother's childhood stories. Of course you did. "I…I actually know very well what Circus you mean…one of my adopted brothers lived and worked there with his parents as well." His mouth formed an O at that, surprise even more evident even with his still aching wounds keeping his facial expressions on the low pretty much, but he definitely didn't look like he wanted to be left in the dark about your Brother now. "Does the name Grayson ring a bell to you then?"

He was unsurprisingly quick to nod at that, "The flying Graysons. I heard of the "incident" that killed them back then from some talk I overheard while working, I was only 3 then yet though, when they died. So I fortunately didn't witness it, even if, I wouldn’t remember I guess…" You couldn't believe it, of course they most likely never met, but Dick was in the same Circus as the ginger next to you. It was shocking how small the world sometimes really was, but not all that weird if your own whole life circled around nothing but Gotham and the surrounding area…

For a few moments, both of you sat quietly, working on digesting and processing the new information: For you it was the Circus that connected you to two people now, for Jerome the fact that your a Wayne.

He would've expected anything but that.

He was first to continue though, turning more towards you so he didn't have to crane his neck to the side the whole time, leaning against the wall as he pulled his legs against his chest, mustering you more thoroughly, "So…how is it living with a billionaire dad?" Yeah, how was such a life?

"Pretty damn boring sometimes. Not even because I can have or do have everything I would possibly want, nah, he didn't raise us like that must I add. But…the fucking events, the gala about every. second. month. They make us want to bash our heads in, to put it bluntly but honest. My second oldest brother was close to making it a reality once because he hates formal suits like the plague." It was something you rarely confessed to other people, as you promised to keep a somewhat good impression in front of strangers for Bruce, so it felt a bit weird feeling so at ease with sharing your distaste for your boring ass rich kid life with the boy in front of you.

Maybe because there was an incredibly low chance he would ever see the world beyond the gates of Arkham again to talk about your deeply personal feelings…

Why did that idea sound so…terrible to you? He killed someone for God's sake! ...He still didn't look the part either way, his ginger hair, crusted over even now with his own blood, one stray, unruly lock of it hanging away and over his forehead, the dimmed freckles on his face, nose and even going down his neck, probably continuing on his shoulders...and the rest of his body. The deep interest buried into his unbruised eye at all the things he got to know about you and all it made him want to know more about you.

Had you met him outside of Arkham, he would've never come to your mind as the subject of probably cold blooded murder. And from all of Batman's "Robins", you're the one that could see through the many masks of your fellow humans the best. So why, if there was one, could you not see through his? "Do...do I have something on my face?" Wait, have you been staring at his face the whole time of your stupid inner monologue!? Oh great, not weird at all, Faith. But you're literally here as a crazy person, undercover, but either way: you were allowed to stare.

"A few freckles are saying hi. But other than that, no."

"Don't start with them now…I can't even count as far for how often I was bullied for them at that stupid fucking shithole of a Circus before! I hate them!" He hates his...freckles? Why? They aren't even that prominent on him, which might be due to the current lack of daily sunlight in Arkham. But how can anybody bully someone for them, you wished you had freckles but noooo, your Dad's stupid genes made you look so damn basic, black hair, blue eyes, wohoo baby... "I think they look really nice on you, though I think you need to get out into the sun a bit more again…" "...Nice!? I doubt anyone ever even thought about complimenting them…" Jerome laments, first caught off guard, then in thought, brushing with his non-bandaged hand over said few still visible patches of them on his cheeks. It was very obvious that he was badly self-conscious about them, a random girl telling him that she liked them wouldn't be able to fix years of negative comments about them like magic.

Sometimes you wished insecurities worked that way though, that all a person needs is ONE compliment and everything is forgotten. But nothing is ever that easy.

"Well, you were surrounded by cunts then. I doubt you will ever have to see any of these people again though, so forget what they said about you. The past is the past, live in the present, and always keep planning ahead for the future." A short, melancholic chuckle shook his body for a moment as he also shook his head, letting the hand fall back onto his knees as he toyed with the pillow in his other hand. As much as the bandage let him at least. "What future…this cell is my only future, where they will let me rot and decay if need be. I will die in here, either from malnutrition, the other nutcases here…or myself. Whoever or whatever is quicker." He tried to hide it, but you saw his eyes both glaze over, quick to soak the threatening tears up with the bandage around his right hand.

He knew his most likely fate. So did you.

So why did you tell him about all this, knowing it would only hurt him further? Were you that detached from reality sometimes?

"I'm sorr-" "It's okay." "No it isn't, I…I forget my manners or to think through my words, especially now. I can't help it..." The last time you took your medication was two days ago now, the afternoon before this Undercover Mission began. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, had the accident yesterday not happened – would you be able to investigate now instead of being stuck in the cell blocks because otherwise your head would be attempted to be smashed into pancake batter – you could've managed with the steady decline of the meds missing in your system.

"Why?" Asks the actual inmate, yeah thanks. "Impulsivity Disorder, a bit like ADHD but without all the other shtick connected to that. So even if I am not a real Inmate…I have a bit of a crack running through my noggin too. Ha…ironic sometimes…" Phoenix, a vigilante hunting down the insane and crazy of Gotham…is one of them. Well, your condition is still much more mild than whatever is wrong with some of the women and men in here, you don't violently rip the head of Squirrels off to eat them like Cocoa Puffs, for a quite brutal but unfortunately not made-up and gruesome example. "And you? Has anyone ever told you what made you…you?" He shook his head yes, but didn't immediately come out with the words, instead he felt his eyes wander up to the ceiling of the cell. Just as boring and plain as everything else around the two of you – the only interesting aspects right now.

"..."Diagnosed" as a psychopath…if they only knew how long it took for me to get pushed this far…too far." Air quotes added to the word 'Diagnosed' woke your curiosity anew as you used the fact of the beds being slightly wider than a normal single bed format to lie down with your head at the opposite end of it, slightly tilted to position your now propped up legs, one folded over the other, next to his. He looked caught off guard how even after, especially after, he confessed his own condition, his reason for being in Arkham and not a normal prison, you kept being so close to him on your own free will. Hell, you even got more comfortable.

...Psychopathy.

Psychopaths are good at hiding their true selves, but as you mentioned earlier, you were uncannily good at seeing through such masks as well. And yes, that included those of Psychopaths and Sociopaths. So when your first thought of "Shit, he is probably only acting shy, he might be manipulating you." crossed your mind, moments after you heard of his diagnosis, "diagnosis", it was just as quickly rubbed away again by that comically large mental eraser when you realized that you would've most certainly noticed if that werethe damn case. If he would've had lied till now.

But he took this game of questions as serious as you hoped he would. Unlike your unruly siblings sometimes, especially your youngest brother, that little Garden Gnome with an attitude.

"Why the air quotes?" You ask the question that burned you the most of all he just said, wanting to know how it came to said diagnosis. "You're gonna laugh…a Detective just wrote it down. Arkham accepted it as a real diagnosis, didn't question it at all. They didn't even call for a "second assessment". Air quotes this time because there wasn't a first one in the first place of fucking course…" So…it might be some other mental problem…or none at all. But the GCPD wanted to make their job easier, or that one Detective at least…

Even after everything you and your family are trying to do, everything the Commissioner is trying to do…corruption is eating up even the Police to this very day. Will Gotham ever see the day that the innocent and the rightful, the law abiding citizens win? Well, Jerome still killed someone, he wasn't really all that innocent. But he had been helpless either way in that moment, his fate was left in the hands of the Detectives and Officers taking care of his file, his case. In the hands one was supposed to be able to trust.

"...You mentioned that you were…pushed too far. If it's not too personal, who…was your victim? One of your bullies?" The pillow was gripped very tightly suddenly at your question, a dark look overshadowing his own curiosity as you realized he was about to lose to his tears again, angry ones this time. "No." "Then-" "I killed my mother." Oh. Oh damn.

And that was the same thing and only thing that you managed to form with your IQ of impressive 160. "Oh. Oh damn."

"Yeah, I doubt you want to hear that. They didn't listen either."

Because they don't care. All they saw was a crazy, probably insane boy that killed his poor mother, they didn't care to dig any further, you don't doubt that with these underpaid fuckwits sometimes. As often as you had to work with them, you wished you didn't have to, but it was a deal made with Jim. As your Patrols didn't often end all that calmly, much like Jason's. The two of you were only "Robins" not turned off by the idea of "accidentally" dragging a criminal across the asphalt with your cars or motorcycles. And Jim knew that. Being the closest to you of all of Batman's Sidekicks, he also was much more lenient.

Help the GCPD every once in a while with something too difficult for their normal Detectives and your own "crimes" don't make it into the files. Sometimes you could throw in a good word for Jason as well.

You had to work with people whose work ethics made you question even the system you were supposed to protect with your family. If anything, it needed to be reformed, not the people alone. Desperately.

"No. I do. I'm not the police, I do want to know." "Didn't you just say you're an Aide for them?" Well... yeah. You did. So what.

You lift your head to lock eyes with him, eyebrows knitted together at him in some way or another for calling out your one half-lie between all your truthfulness until now. You definitely wouldn't acknowledge it this time, he would have to believe either the first or the latter version. But only you knew that both are right in a way. "You have the chance to tell your side of the story to someone who promises to listen and you begin questioning that person's occupation?"

He returned the same irritated expression, as much as he could without wincing out again, holding the bandage over his cheek before grumbling out at you, since not only you knew that you're right. "...all…all of it?" "If it is needed to explain your reasoning of going with such a brutal decision of killing your own mother, yes. All of it."

His mother forced him to take care of nearly all chores around their small, crammed trailer that 3 people had to live in. If he wasn't fast enough or she found the smallest something to complain about in how he did it, and he told you that she found a reason basically every damn time, Lila, he said was her name, would beat him. Often, regularly and routinely even, to the point he wouldn't just bruise but also bleed or have to limp for weeks from how hard she would hit him, naturally with help of other objects than her hands as well.

The last ten minutes of your sneaked in stay in his own bleak cell were spent with him telling you about his childhood, of growing up at Haly's ever since he could remember. Of course all that while you made sure to analyze every twitch of a muscle and any non present one, the movements of his hands. Everything. He begins with the fact that he even had a twin brother, named Jeremiah. Of the cruel way the other residents and workers of the Circus treated him as a kid. All he was used for by the Circus was to dispose of the dung and shit all the Circus' animals left behind after the shows and feeding or cleaning routines.

All the while, she fucked a new man every second day, right in the next room or trailer, depending on who the newest man was. Clowns, Acrobats, Lion-Tamers…everything.

Then he told you about what his brother did to him, how their mother only turned her punishments and beating up a notch of extreme…because his twin told their mother that Jerome wanted to kill him in his sleep. Jerome was adamant towards you about that having been a blatant lie, as he couldn't have even done so, he was locked in a literal animal's travel cage that winter night, by his own mother as well, so she could've denied it too.

And one night, Jerome confessed, he could no longer hold onto his rage, his anger that build for all these years…he just couldn't hold it back any longer. He let his vile, dark thoughts become real and he killed her, but he waited until she touched him again, when she came in to beat him for forgetting to clean the beer cans up. With an axe, he explained, his eyes unfocused as he stared at his hands, those that held the murder weapon. His uncle, he said that fact with a sour tone, helped him try to cover it up but as he was here now, it clearly didn't work.

But she didn't, she simply used that event as an incentive to "discipline" the "black sheep of her family" even further.

You could only imagine the amount of nights Jerome spent trying to find any spot of his body he cpuld lie on without putting pressure on his bruised skin. The tears that must've fallen in all these hellish nights...

And then you were all caught up to his situation, eyes wide the whole time, your continuous follow up questions, for everything he told you with a knot in throat, just as choked out as his answers. You simply couldn't or didn't want to believe that he went through all these things…and he defended himself…he wanted…freedom.

And Arkham is what he got in return…

"Jerome, I-" you just wanted to give him your honest opinion on it all when you hear it in the distance: the jingling of two heavy key rings. The guards are coming back! "What?" Your hearing seems to be better than his as you hushed him, quickly sitting up on the bed to push a finger against his lips, getting incredibly close to the now unhindered crying boy. Again, an action from your side that happened without much thought from your end as you motioned him to either be quiet or to whisper now.

You didn’t want to leave his side already, especially not now! He looked like he was about to fall in on himself like an old building with you causing him to dig back up all of this past trauma, having given up to hold back the tears. His eyes puffy, they look into yours like a kicked puppy,

"Please don't leave me now…"

In that moment you realize that you're probably the first person he told about his abuse, about everything…a stranger he met yesterday was kinder and more understanding than any adult or other person he came across in his poor excuse of a life. He deserves to have at least one person to listen to him.

To hear him out.

But you had to leave for now, get back to your own cell before the guard saw that you had the tools to open them yourself. With a bitter, apologetic smile, you slowly get off his bed, nodding slowly at him when he keeps silent. But you couldn't give a promise without words either way, so, when you slide the cell door open as quietly as even possible, you turn towards the now absolutely miserable looking ginger one last time for today it seemed.

"We will talk more…I promise, just have some Faith."

#jerome velaska #jerome valeska x oc #Jerome Valeska x batsis!OC #batfam x oc #batfam x batsis #batfam x batsis!oc #Innocent Jerome Valeska #dc x oc

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alifesalifealife · 10 months

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WAS THE UNABOMBER RIGHT?? NOT CLICKBAIT!!

What's wrong with me bro straight up. I kind of thought the whole early 20s existential suffering thing was just what sad old people moved onto once they were done relating to skins. But now I guess I’m sad old people. All my homies miss existing inside institutions which provide security and limited requirement to make long term decisions. In true first world fashion I am suffering from being too high on maslow's hierarchy and clawing at that tiny, slutty little triangle at the top. I think the only way I know how to achieve self actualisation is by watching 3 seasons of house a night and then drinking a beer and doing CIA levels of social media stalking just to upset myself and telling myself it’ll be ok because one day I’ll be an epic rockstar on guitar. And then its monday again and I have to go to work and it's a total Garfield moment.

I wonder a lot about what other people possibly think about all day. Not to be a narcissist (I took an online test, it says I’m definitely autistic and gay but probably all goods on the narcissist front) but I have thoughts all day and it's exhausting. And it's for sure quantity over quality. I can’t really remember the last time I felt genuine calm contentment. I’m like a hamster in a wheel and also those rats in the coke experiments that keep administering themselves coke until they die. I’m glad I didn’t really grow up with social media as an adult because I now as a fully grown woman need a subway surfer slime video playing in the background of all my interactions to even know what's going on. I can’t imagine what that would do to my rotten smoothe brain if I was a kid. I talked to my sibling recently and it's definitely a genetic deficiency because they described it as a kind of negative mania where you start thinking you could either study for your test, or pace around the room until 2am and start thinking about how the unabomber kind of had a good point. I think that's a good description, negative mania - it's not that sexyyy creative genius or glamorous skinny legend depression where everyone feels sorry for you because you lay in bed all day staring at the ceiling thinking about kafka or whatever cool depressed people do. It’s way more unbearable because you feel like a human version of those sticky hand toys, throwing yourself against the wall all again and again all gooby and gross hoping something sticks.

-disruptchargetopia

youtube

#Youtube

0 notes

chronocidalrage · 2 years

Text

More Dark Shit

Definitely in love with (and terrified of) the dark. Because that’s where all the good and bad things are. Love is in the dark, because you have to go into the unknown to find it. It may be a bright light, but it hides in the dark. That feeling of being both in love with the dark and terrified of it, that dominates my feelings a lot of the time.

I can tell I’m anxious tonight. Things are happening soon and I’m nervous. But I also feel a little bit of something that MIGHT be some form of excitement which makes me even more nervous.

I’m realizing though that I don’t spend my time doing the things I want to do, or the things that make me happy, but the things that I’m comfortable doing. That’s the math equation I’m always doing.

ATOM I think you feel further away when I’m present. When I’m in my current world and I’m the jaded, pessimistic, guarded version of myself that I’ve been for the last 4 years. That version of Alex has been missing Atom for a long time. He never fully had Atom.

But when I feel more like my old self, when I’m weak or open, I feel closer to Atom in a lot of ways.

That said, I guess I can accept that original/real Atom is gone. He’s been gone for a long time. But even recent Atom? Late stage Atom? Him too?! That seems insane and impossible.

RANDOM Some dude on Twitter said “the truth is expensive, the lies are all free” and that’s so perfect.

ALONE When I’m alone I turn into Kevin McCallister, because that was my idea of the benefit of not having a family. You got to do whatever you want. Eat junk food, watch TV. Make bad choices. So as my family fell apart, I sought out this behavior. It’s a consolation.

LIFE Everything overwhelms me. Thinking of everything I may have to be in the morning. I’d rather be eating and watching TV alone because I feel happy and adequate. Good enough for this joy.

I really do assume I’m gonna fuck everything up. I have no faith in myself.

I don’t want a donut, I want a flat stomach. Think of how nice that would be, how much more comfortable I’d be. Wild.

You don’t want to watch movies as much as you wanna make them.

You don’t want to read comics as much as you want to make them.

You just focus on surrogates for the things you really want. The things that you don’t think you’re capable of.

The difference between me dreading something and me being fine with it is belief. I don’t believe I can handle things.

SELF I think I see my likable side as an act, a façade. So I’m always exhausted from pretending to be that person. When I’m working and I get interrupted, I’m thinking “I’m already pushing myself beyond my limits to do whatever it is I’m currently doing, you want me to potentially mess that up AND you want me to also listen and talk and be sociable?”

And when I’m alone I see that as a chance to take my mask off. To be my true self. To be the fat, movie and food-obsessed loser I really am.

The only person I ever truly believed saw the real me and loved me anyway was Atom. Interesting.

The difference between how I live my life and how I WANT to live my life is confidence. Believing in myself.

HALLOWEEN NIGHT I want so much but I have no faith in my ability to attain it. I’m not embarrassed that I haven’t gotten around to the stuff I want, I’m embarrassed that I haven’t been worthy/capable yet.

The times in my life when I feel the magic is when I’m doing what I want to do.

I think I want a “movie mentor” and I haven’t found one that’s able or worthy and that annoys me. But I suppose I can just find my way?

FEELINGS AND SHIT I shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to talk about feelings and feel shit. We should WANT to feel shit. Why else are we here?

When people interact with me online I think they’re just being nice. Throwing me a bone.

That feeling that I feel all the time is longing. Wanting something but feeling unable to have it. And that’s so upsetting that it makes me not want to think about what I want, but how can I not think of what I want? That’s that confusing, dark and "candle-lit" feeling you have all the time. The feeling of yellow bulb lights hanging from pillars and rafters. Wanting to be part of the light but you can’t. Do we all just want to be part of the light of the universe and for humans the light is love? And that’s what we aim for?

0 notes

or-something-better · 2 years

Text

May 27, 2022

5/27/22

Henry

is moping around the empty bunker, crying and talking to myself. Crashes on the couch throwing my dagger open in the air

Ruby

Popping into the bunker, I see Henry talking to himself. "What's up Henry?"

Henry

glances at Ruby It's empty. No sissy and no dad. I don't like being alone

Ruby

I go over to him. “I understand. But Sam and I may have come up with something to get everyone back, but I’m going to need your help. Do you think you can do that?”

Henry

catches my knife before it goes into the couch. Gets up for a hug “ where going?” gets my bag from the car

Ruby

“Great. I need to get a few things first. Why don’t you go grab your gear while I do that?”

Leaving Henry to gather his stuff, I head for the artifact room. Luckily Sam and I had recently come across the item I needed, and I knew just where to find it. Locating it, I put it in my satchel and headed for the med bay. Searching the drawers and cabinets, I find what I think I will need and head for the map room after putting these in the satchel as well.

Henry

garbs my stuff and heads to the map room wiping my tears

Ruby

Once I’m back in the map room, I give Henry a hug "We've got this!" I reassure him. I call on Mrs. Butters for help. “Mrs. Butters? Are you here? We need your help.”

Henry

“I hope so it's too quiet even for me who likes quiet”

Mrs butters

a green mist slowly turns into the figure you recognize ruby, Henry… where is everyone else? Dean? Alex? Donna? Gabe?

Dean

I appear in my room looking around. Something feels different. I am me....but I feel like I’m missing something... Passing the mirror in my room... No shadow. son of a bitch! Really??? I head to the door and reach for the door handle then brace myself and just walk through it kinda surprised it actually worked, I go through the bunker looking around I see henry and ruby and stop and stand back in a corner watching noticing things still seem odd where the hell is everyone? I stand back watching knowing I Cant be seen unsure exactly why

Ruby

I tell Mrs Butters the events. “Short version is Charlie had her heart ripped out by Klaus. Donna and Dean were turned into vampires and then compelled to walk into the sun. Gabe vanished taking Klaus with him.”

Henry

“I somehow survived “

Ruby

I give him another hug.

Henry

hugs back

Ruby

“Sam and I were working on something that we thought might bring them back. Nothing concrete yet. But almost.”

Mrs butters

Oh dear… looking shocked I was supposed To protect them…

Ruby

"We couldn't do anything. That's the infuriating part."

Henry

makes my teacup telekinesis fly to me. Grabs it and sips out of it

Mrs butters

I failed them…

Henry

“they were too powerful even for Gabe and donna”

Mrs butters

I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help…

Ruby

"If I can find what I need, Sam and I might be able to find a way to bring them back."

Henry

“We need to bring all of them back, Gabe, Donna, Alex, dean, Charlie “

Mrs butters

perking up a bit there’s definitely a way… but it’s strong magic….and requires two hunters…. And we only have one dear boy left…. looking at Henry

Ruby

"What about Alex?"

Dean

as I listen to everything what the hell did she just say???? What the hell? Back wait... Klaus killed all of us??? No ... anger begins boiling up inside me, I start pacing the bunker trying to figure out how to get enough energy to get their attention to let them know I am there

Mrs butters

Alex?! She’s ok?!? She could definitely help!

Henry

“What?!” turns to look at them

Ruby

"I think she's at her cabin with the kids. I'm sure she'd want to help.It’s the best we can do right now. Let’s go get Alex and go from there. Henry, Mrs. Butters and I pop over to a clearing near Alex’s cabin. “I need to do a locator spell to find the cabin. Can you help me, Henry?”

Henry

“ Yes, I can what do you need to do?”

Dean

hearing bears name no you cant use her.... She’s about to pop any damn day now.... No no no absolutely fucking not! Come on Dean figure this out throw something do something damnit! trying to concentrate as I’ve done in the past

Ruby

I take out the ingredients I will need for the spell as well as my spell book and my casting bowl. I turn to Henry. “Henry, can you hand me what I need when I ask for it?”

Henry

“sure” sits beside her

Ruby

Setting everything in front of him, the rosemary, rue, yarrow, basil and mug wort, I tell Henry “Everything is in order from right to left. Just hand me the items when I call for it.” I seat myself before the bowl and concentrate. “Invoco spiritus ut me deducant in inquisitione mea” I hold out my hand to Henry. “The first three please.”

Henry

telekinesis them over to her as I don't trust my shaky hands

Dean

I manage to throw a glass as it shatters against the wall as they all disappear DAMNIT!

Ruby

Taking the, I place them in the bowl and using a pestle, crush them.

“Adiuva me locare casulam quae tenet hominem quem quaero.”

“Now the last two herbs” I tell Henry

Henry

does the same with the last 2

Ruby

Taking them, I add them to the bowl and mix them together.

“Illumina viam meam ut inveniam quem quaero”

I look up and see fairy lights making a path into the woods.

Mrs butters

taking a small wooden box out of my pocket I walk towards ruby and pass it to her

Ruby

Confused, I look up at Mrs. Butters and take the box.

Mrs butters

I know this spell, it will only work once…. Inside this box is something Cuthbert designed…. It’s meant to bring back a man of letters… but only once…. After that, it will be useless…. Let’s save it in case your spell isn’t enough.::. And who do we even save first?

Dean

Pacing around the bunker getting more pissed as the energy builds bulbs begin breaking in the map room I’m freakin stuck here. Nobody knows it.... Their all dead... Gabe gone... What the hell man??? You let Klaus fuckin beat you man?? SERIOUSLY??? books fly off the shelves in the library littering the floor, and pictures in the map room crash to the floor

Henry

looks at the fairy lights

Ruby

Thinking, I tell her "Charlie. I think Charlie would be the best to help us with the others. That’s step one. Shall we go find Alex?”

Mrs butters

Let’s go find who we have left.

Henry

“that will be best” gets up off the floor

Ruby

Following the lights, we go into the woods until we come upon a cabin. The lights are on inside.

Henry

goes up to the door and knocks

Ruby

Standing back, I watch Henry. The door opens.

Henry

“Should we go in?”

Ruby

Olivia answers the door and sees Henry.

Dean

keep thinking about everything trying to remember anything I may be able to remember before I found myself here. Klaus... Sam....henry.... Char... Gabe and everyone had left us helpless... Klaus gave them no options... Then he came back... Anything beyond that....gone SON OF A BITCH! glass in the tv shatters as the tv explodes from the energy surge

Mrs butters

walking in behind I see Olivia come outside

Charlie

I think that’s a sign we should

Henry

crutches to her level “ is your mom home”

Alex

Olivia yeah my mom in room bawling out crying

Mrs butters

I nod to ruby let’s go

Ruby: "May we see her?"

Alex

I hear voice I get up sniff out my room and I open door and I saw ruby and Mrs butter and Henry Henry? Mrs butter? Ruby? Wha …what you doing here? voice breaking

Ruby

Following Olivia inside, I can see Alex “I’m so sorry Alex. Know how upset you are.”

Henry

hugs her and gives you cookies on a rescue mission to bring everyone back to life

Mrs butters

Alex! You’re ok! I go over to hug her

Alex

sniff thanks Henry and can you and take Olivia outside playing I don’t get to hear this Olivia I have something to show you outside

Henry

“sure it’s been awhile “ follows Olivia

Ruby

I let Mrs. Butters tell Alex why we're here.

Alex

Hugs I ok I heartbroken I feel broke down bec….because I watch Klaus rip Charlie heart out and and I starting to crying Donna is gone and I bawling Olivia point I have see a deer and they are cool

Henry

“yes they are “ smiles while looking to where she’s pointing

Alex

Olivia smiles I like it here so nice here

Ruby

Alex, we've come to you to get your help. We think we may have a way to bring the others back. Mrs. Butters, Sam and I may have an idea."

Henry

“peaceful too”

Dean

pacing still my anger building unsure of if Gabe is even alive or dead too and not knowing about Klaus and that group of misfit original vamps, wanting revenge, unsure of anything and pissed I’m once again left helpless in this damn bunker, my anger feeding off all the energy I can draw in the bunker, I hear appliances flying off the counters in the kitchen, and the chairs at the map table fly slamming against the wall DAMNIT DEAN! GET A GRIP. YOU CANT DO ANYTHING so trashing the bunker wont solve anything! knowing all I can do is wait things out I try to stop

Alex

I look over how…..how? they are gone but I can help I sniff

Ruby

"If you can come back with us to the Bunker, I think we can begin seeing what we can do to get them back. You and Olivia could stay at the bunker for a few day while we work on it."

Alex

I frown I remember the flash back when Klaus rip Charlie heart out and Donna gone and I blink I took a deep breath I know I don’t want to but I am in I can help get them back I sniff Gabe vanish I don’t know where he went

Henry

plays with Oivila

Alex

Olivia I love cookies my favorite is chocolate chip

Ruby

Mrs. Butters said she might have an idea but needed 2 hunters to do it. Henry is the only one at the bunker. That leaves you. Can you help us?"

Henry

“I will make sure I bake you lots of them” gently smiles at her

Alex

Yeah I can help I am in

Ruby

"Great!"

Mrs butters

Cuthbert taught me some magic … dark magic but I’m this case it can be used for good

Alex

Olivia yes! And I can keep it in treehouse I can eat it alone all to me

Ruby

I think we'll take what we can get at this point."

Henry

giggles “ sure I already gave your mom some already”

Alex

Olivia smiles giggle

Ruby

"Can I help with anything you want to take with you and Olivia?" I ask Alex

Henry

watches her

Alex

Yeah she can come with me she always stay by my side

Olivia? Henry? Olivia hear her mom call and she run

Henry

“Yes Alex?” looks over at Alex

Alex

I going pack Olivia and I bag and we going to the bunker

Mrs butters

smiling at Olivia

Alex

Olivia pack her bag and I pack her bag and I took a deep breath

Henry

lays on the ground enjoying the sun

Alex

Olivia look around my doll? Where my doll Olivia look around

Dean

I manage to calm thinking about the kids, I make myself transport and appear in Alex’s house watching them get ready and hear you asking about her doll and I see it and use the energy in the house to float it to her with a note on it. The note reads uncle Dean

Mrs butters

I watch the doll and point out the note to Alex

Alex

I look over and I pick up paper I read said dean I tear up dean? I sniff

Henry

looks up at the mention of dean pie lover?

Mrs butters

Dean?? It’s a sign he hasn’t left! turning to ruby we have some work to do

Ruby

"Dean? Here? How is that possible?"

Henry

starts to tear up again

Dean

I watch everyone and disappear back to the bunker thinking about Liv but happy to see that Alex and liv are ok

Mrs butters

He’s always been all about the family ….

Alex

I nod show paper to ruby and Mrs butter and Henry Olivia mom I all ready to go

Ruby

"Let's do it." I pop the group back to the map room. Seeing a note on the table, I pick it up and read it out loud. I had to go away for a while. I’m going to try to locate someone I know that might be able to help. Hold everyone together until I get back. Sam”

“That’s Sam. Short and sweet and lacking on details.” I say smiling and shaking my head. I take the note. That explains why he isn’t here.

Alex

Olivia hold mom hand Sam? How is he doing?

Mrs butters

nodding I head towards Deans’ room in search of something that might hold a bit of his DNA, within a few moments I find his comb and I bring it out to the others

Ruby

“He’s hurting like everyone else. He just lost his entire family.”

Henry

“how do we bring them back?”

Alex

I frown nod

Mrs butters

I believe ruby has the spell… I have enough magic to aid her in completing it…. It’s going to take a lot out of us both…. looking around at the busted glass of the tv looks like dean is finding some strength…: so I’ll use some of mine to help save him

Ruby

"You think he's here?"

Mrs butters

closing my eyes I know he is… I can feel him here somewhere….

Dean

book floats the air and taps Ruby in the head and lands on the map table

Henry

“I do feel a cold spot”

Ruby

"Ouch! Ok, ok. We are going to need something of his."

Mrs butters

I pass you a comb that still has some of Deans hair in it

Ruby

"I see where you're going with this. Henry, can you fill the tub for me?” Taking the comb, I head for the bathroom.

Henry

turns the bathtub on

Ruby

Taking a small dagger and crystal bowl from my satchel, turning to Alex and Henry, I explain. “I’m going to need a couple of drops of blood from each of you, if you’ll let me.”

Henry

hands her my arm

Alex

Nod yep Hand out

Ruby

I hand Alex the dagger first. "I just need a couple of drops in the bowl."

Alex

I cut and I drop couple blood

Ruby

"You're next Henry"

Henry

hands her my arm

Ruby

Taking the knife from Alex, I take Henry's finger and pierce the end. Squeezing it I let two drops of blood fall into the bowl.

Ruby

Piercing my own finger with the dagger, I add a few drops of my own blood into the bowl, and recite the incantation:

“Dea, Hecate, haec tibi dono pro tuo auxilio.Ostende mihi quid opus sit ut sciam.”

“Put the comb in the water, Henry.”

Dean

watching everything but also trying to use the energy to appear at least a little to them but it still not working

Henry

drops the comb into water

Ruby

Mixing the drops of blood together, I dip the bowl into the water, letting the water wash it into the tub, then look at Mrs. Butters.

Mrs butters

concentrating hard I close my eyes until the entire room is filled with a bright green light and then I sit on the floor breathless and blinded

Henry

closes my eyes

Ruby

Going over to her, I check on her to see if she's alright.

Alex

I took a deep breath and close my eye

Dean

I watch myself appear in full body and walk into the kitchen coming back Where the hell is the damn pie around here? looking at everyone half smiling

Mrs butters

breathing but weak I hear another set of footsteps

Charlie

Dean!

Ruby

Turning and seeing Dean, alive again, brings a smile to my face. Sam is going to be thrilled!

Alex

I open my eye dean! I hugs sobbing

Henry

Dean!! yells and attack hugs

Mrs butters

grinning at ruby we did it! It worked!

Alex

Olivia run zoom uncle Dean! Olivia tackle hugs

Dean

I hug you back as I get attack hugged by Henry and almost fall over hey bear. Hey kid-- doo fall to the ground as Olivia tackles me

Alex

Olivia smiles I miss you I wipe my tear Dean I so glad you are back

Charlie

thunder starts to rumble and lightning is flashing and the rain starts to pound on the roof of the bunker

Alex

Who next?

Henry

cries don't you ever leave me again. I will bake pie later”

Alex

I gasp that sounds not good

Dean

laughing I miss you guys to baby girl hearing the thunder storm outside that definitely isn’t a good sign

Henry

“yeah that's not good maybe a storm coming”

Alex

I agree

Mrs Butters

Do you think it might be Gabe?

Ruby

whispering softly to myself, it sounds like the gods are definitely angry.

Alex

I think it Gabe

Mrs Butters

Donna was pregnant wasn’t she…??

Charlie

What about Klaus? What happened with him?

Henry

“dad took him when he left”

Dean

That would be a hell of a lot of power to combine especially if they fight each other

Alex

I look over dean at that night Donn….Donna got turn and walk into sun I start to cry

Dean

Klaus..... the memory before whatever happened to me vaguely coming back he made her didn’t he?

Ruby

“Yes. And after Klaus killed Charlie, Gabe, with Klaus inside him, left. We haven’t seen or heard from him since. We don’t really know what happened.”

Alex

Nod he did Donna die

Henry

“and I ran till it was safe to come back to bunker. I don't remember how I survived but I did”

Dean

Wait.... He fucking killed Charlie???? We have to bring her back....NOW. Lets move

Henry

nods sadly

Alex

I sniff Klaus rip Charlie's heart out front of us

Dean

looking at everyone why is nobody moving??? Bring her the hell back!

Mrs Butters

Archnephilims…. Those babies may not be done yet… they’re even more powerful than their father …

Alex

I smiles what about Gabe?

Dean

Wouldnt they have burned with donna? But do something now bring Charlie back like you just did me! What do you mean

Mrs butters

They don’t develop like normal babies…. Completely celestial bodies until birth…. They didn’t have a body yet to destroy… and they’re fiercely protective of their momma…

Henry

listens and tries not to cry again

Alex

Smiles what about Gabe?

Dean

If he shuts off angel radio again like the stubborn ass that he is there’s no reaching him!

Alex

I frown

Dean

Hey Ruby you got any way to find his sorry ass?

Ruby

“If he’s on Earth or in Hell I think I can find him. But if he’s in Heaven…” I look at him, “there isn’t anything I can do.”

Mrs butters

I’ll help however I can…

Henry

“can you at least search for dad?” using my puppy eyes

Ruby

“Of course Henry. I’ll do everything I can.”

Dean

Well we aren't getting anywhere standing here talking about it

Mrs Butters

First Charlie… we could use her brains

Charlie

We need to do some planning… Ruby hold on to that device … we will need it for Charlie

Ruby

“Right. We’ll need to make some plans to get Charlie back, but if you’re willing to help with your knowledge and powers…we have to try.” Sitting down at the map table, I take out a notebook and, with Mrs. Butters. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Dean

Then there's that Definitely bring her back do some more of that damn magic....simple

Mrs Butters

I’ll make some tea and we can get to work…

Alex

Alright let do this

Dean

Who needs tea? Where’s the beer?

Alex

I will have tea

Mrs Butters

walks over to hug dean good to have you back, and I’ll bring you a beer

Dean

hugs you back and smile it’s good to be back looking around at the place oops

I may have lost my temper a bit

Henry

I will have tea also thanksMrs Butters

I’ll take care of that heads into the kitchen for tea and beer then sits next to ruby let’s fix our family

Alex

Olivia sit with her mom and cuddle I will have a tea I smiles

Dean

take the beer opening it cheers. To getting our family back in one piece

Charlie

to be continued

……………………………………………

1. Henry is moping around an empty bunker talking to himself out loud when Ruby poofs in. She tells Henry that she and Sam came up with a plan to bring everyone back but that she will need Henry’s help. Henry agrees and packs a bag, while Ruby goes into the artifact room and then to med bay to gather some items she thinks she may need. Once they are ready, they go into the map room where Ruby summons Mrs. Butters.

2. Mrs. Butters questions where everyone is and lists them by name… Ruby and Henry fill her in on what happened to each of them and Mrs butters is distraught. After a few moments Ruby is able to explain that she thought there might be a way to bring them back. Mrs butters says there is but it requires a lot of magic and the blood of two hunters… but they’d only be able to get one. Understanding the three get ready to go find Alex.

3. The three poof to a wooded clearing with the help of Ruby. Ruby gets out her spellbook and a wooden bowl. Henry starts sitting out ingredients as Ruby lists them off and Mrs butters pulls a small box out of her pocket and Ruby looks at her confused. Mrs butters explains what is in the box, and Ruby pockets it for later.

4. With the spell book Ruby continues and does a strong locator spell, a path is lit through the woods, Henry is amazed at what he’s seeing and Ruby smiles at him saying that step one is done, and they follow the light into the woods until they find a small cabin, the lights are on, and Henry asks what they are doing here. Mrs butters just points as she sees Olivia run outside the house to play.

5. Smiling the three go inside the cabin and meet up with Alex who is inconsolable about the loss of everyone. Ruby and Mrs butters quiet her down while Henry entertains the kids. Ruby and Mrs butters tell Alex they’ve possibly found a way to bring the family back but it was going to take some work and they needed her help. Alex is reluctant because Gabe just vanished and she didn’t think they could do anything about that.

6. Mrs butters grins and says they may not have to. One step at a time. Reluctantly Alex packs up and heads to the bunker with the kids and Henry and Ruby and Mrs butters. Olivia runs around to grab a few things (dean is a ghost and is watching all of this) and she can’t find her favorite doll when it floats to her, with a piece of paper that says “dean” Alex takes the paper and tears up again. Mrs butters says that it’s a sign that he hasn’t left, and they had work to do.

7. Arriving back at the bunker there’s a note on the table from Sam. Ruby reads it aloud and explains why he isn’t there. Alex asks how he’s been doing and Ruby shares while she starts to gather the ingredients. Mrs butters comes out from Deans room with his comb, that still had some hairs in it. Ruby takes it and they head into the bathroom where Henry fills the tub with water. Ruby takes a blade from her bag and explains to Alex and Henry she needs a bit of blood from each. They solemnly agree and Ruby adds some of her own as well, and says a few words. Henry drops deans comb into the water. When they are finished Mrs butters concentrates as a mist of green descends over the room and fills with light.

8. The team stands there with their eyes shut as they hear a familiar voice say “can someone get me some pie?” Alex and Henry both screech and run over to hug dean as Olivia runs into the room and tackles dean. Ruby and Mrs butters smile at each other excited that it worked. Alex asks who’s next, as a huge storm seems to fall just over the bunker. Dean and Henry both comment on how that may not be a great sign. Alex agrees and asks if the others think it’s Gabe.

9. Mrs Butters remembers that Donna was pregnant and asks what happened with Klaus. Henry tells her that Gabe took him along when he left. Dean says that’s a lot of power to combine, especially if they’re fighting one another. Alex relays the story to dean about what happened that final night with Donna and Ruby tells him about Charlie and how Gabe left. Dean reacts and says they need to bring back Charlie. Mrs butters says the babies may still be able to do something yet, when dean asks her to explain.

10. Alex is happy about what Mrs butters shared, but asks about Gabe. Dean says that if he’s shut off angel radio that he will be impossible to reach and asks Ruby if she can do anything. Ruby says if he’s on earth or in hell she can find him but if he’s in heaven there won’t be anything they can do. Henry asks if she’s willing to search. Mrs butters offers to help. Ruby says they’ll need to make some plans and get Charlie back but she’s game and they sit down to make some plans

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masterofmunson · 3 years

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look after you (1)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining

Word Count: 6k+

Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing.

Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed.

You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him.

You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul.

He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him.

Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly.

He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was.

Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam.

You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question.

You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough.

So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you.

“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone.

Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly.

“What is it, Sam?”

“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”

Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”

“Me and Barnes.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam?

“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”

“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor.

You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in.

You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him.

It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.

....

You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia.

Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam.

When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car.

You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person.

“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously.

Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.

“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”

No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense.

“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation.

“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand.

You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”

Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”

“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”

You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you.

His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”

You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”

Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”

You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.

He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her.

It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him.

After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude.

You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky.

Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier.

“We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”

Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face.

“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”

Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”

You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real.

You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did.

You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours.

“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.

“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”

Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”

Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake.

Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”

You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand.

“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers.

“You don’t either,” you mumbled back.

He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you.

“Touché, honey.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs.

You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind.

…

When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure.

Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl.

Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs.

He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”

You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”

The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you.

“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?”

You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car.

Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same.

Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to.

Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return.

“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased.

He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar.

Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow.

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian.

It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.

You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.

You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath.

A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.”

You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need.

Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.

“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam.

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky.

Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”

Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.

Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it.

A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.

Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan.

Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years.

There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you.

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood.

“He will do anything you want.”

Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring.

She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic.

Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah.

“Kill them—”

Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over.

You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm.

You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives.

You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious.

Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out.

You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue.

“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him.

He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off.

Time stands still.

You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot.

You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town.

Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder.

“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound.

A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you.

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”

She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond.

Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor.

Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit.

“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat.

Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder.

The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling.

“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”

He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila.

Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name.

You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep.

You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it.

“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”

You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe.

“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”

“It was reckless!”

“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back.

“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued.

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you.

“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”

The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home.

You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again.

“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”

Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest.

There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you.

You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”

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