#I love when they’re two traumatized kids who just need someone to hold

[qu1nby]

I genuinely love when people say that they can’t see skk ever having a long, functional relationship because that is the appeal! It’s about loving someone despite knowing they are not the best person for you. It’s about self-destruction through others. Yes yes yes I want to see these touch-starved dumbasses cuddling and making dinner together because I know that there are also years of arguing and weird mind-game manipulative shit going on behind the scenes

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hi! I love your blog so much. I was hoping you could write what yandere!batfam would do if the reader just barricaded themselves in a room and does everything to make sure batfam can't get in. I hope you have a great day and drink plenty of water.

Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog, and I am absolutely going to do a snippet for this!

Warnings: (implied) hunger striking, captivity, themes of obsession, violence, and threats of restraints as well as physically restraining someone.

“You know that’s only going to hold us out for so long, right?”

It’s Jason. You don’t respond, keeping silent. It was just another trick, you knew, to get you to open the door.

Not that they only needed a door. You’d shoved the massive bookcase in front of the window, shoving your bed in front of it. Your desk, and the final bookshelf, had gone to block the door.

You had no doubt it wouldn’t hold them long. It just had to hold them long enough.

“Come on, kid, think about this. Open the door, and I’ll try and talk the old man down from taking the damn door off it’s hinges.”

You hiss softly in alarm, because you had thought Bruce was gone. You thought he was away, in Nepal, in a business trip. Otherwise there was no possible way you would have been able to pull this off, you knew.

“You didn’t know the old man was back? He got a call from Dickiebird, he’s on his way to the Manor as we speak, kid. You really want him to start breaking down the door? He will, you know it.”

You keep quiet, fingers buried in the soft carpet, and try to focus. Try to breath. Bruce being here changed things. Dick being here changed things.

“Who’s all in the Manor?”

You manage to croak out, and Jason pauses.

“Not sure I should be telling you that, kid. I’ll cut you a deal, though. Tell me why you’re pulling out the anti-siege tactics and I’ll tell you some names.”

You shake your head, before you remember that Jason couldn’t see you. That was fine.

“No deal.”

You weren’t going to be explaining to them that you felt suffocated, more often than not. That they were always there, constantly hovering, a hand on your shoulder or an arm linked around yours. That you had so little agency that you felt you were going insane, on a good day.

“Then guess you’re gonna be in the dark. Head up, though. Golden Boy’s pissed.”

That manages to rip the air from your lungs. Dick was scary as hell when he got angry, scary enough that out of all your siblings captors, his anger would immediately send you into a near frenzy. He got fucking mean when he was mad, and he knew how to use his words to cut to the bone.

“What and you aren’t?” You taunt, frantically trying to stop the way your heart thunders in your ears and the way your blood pulses in your veins.

“Oh no, I’m pissed. Pissed enough I’m keeping this door between the two of us, because I don’t want to traumatize ya.” It’s- it’s almost cheerful, the way he says it, so matter of fact, but the words are phrased in a way that you know they’re true. Every syllable is tense and clipped, not quite grit out and hidden behind the easygoing bluster.

“Yeah, well, I’m also pretty into keeping the door between us.” You snap, because you are impulsive and dumb and holy shit you did not think this through.

You hear the faintest sound from Jason, and when he speaks again, his voice is sharp, sharp enough you cringe back and try not to panic.

“I fucking bet, you brat. What exactly are you planning to get out of this, huh? Planning on going on a hunger strike or something?”

The door rattles in the frame, and you yelp, alarmed.

A sigh, and when Jason speaks again, it’s softer. Cajoling.

“Listen. Bruce and Golden Boy are gonna be here soon. We can do this two ways. You either open the door, apologize to me for being an absolute menace and driving me insane, or it gets busted down, and you leave the room anyways, except with a lot more yelling and a lot higher chance of Bruce not letting you out of his sight for months. Literally.”

You bite your lip, hands fisted in the rug.

“I’m not opening the door, Jason.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You hear his footsteps leave. For a second, you take a moment to breathe, air whistling between your teeth, the AC loud in the quiet room.

“Open the door.”

You jump, nearly leaping a foot in the air, and the startled sound dies in your chest, eyes wide.

Bruce. Bruce was on the other side of the door, right now, and he was pissed. Pissed enough that his voice had that gravelly, rough quality it got when he was being stern and already mad as hell but trying not to show it.

“No.”

Your voice sounds small, even to you. You try to ignore it.

The door rattles on it’s hinges. It seemed, with a locked door and several heavy oak dressers between you and him, he was determined to move both. It rattles again, this time louder, and you shriek in alarm when the desk creaks. How fucking hard was Bruce hitting it?

“(Y/N), unless you want me to break this door down, open the door.” Bruce sighs after he speaks, and then breathes in, like he was trying to calm himself down.

“I know you’re scared right now. But just open the door and come out, and we can talk about why you did this, okay? I’m sorry I frightened you.”

You feel tears prick at the side of your face, feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the fear. You want to shake your head.

You don’t say anything, and he sighs again.

This time, it’s not just the door that rattles. The desk shudders, straining against the weight thrown against it, and the shelf creaks, then sways.

You’re smart enough to back up and away before it comes crashing down. Not that you don’t doubt Bruce knew you were away from the shelf, or he never would have risked toppling the heavy thing.

When he ducks through the doorway, picking his way over the shattered desk and shelf, you back away, hands trembling. He pauses.

“(Y/N). Why don’t you come over here so we can clean the mess up, and we can talk about this in a bit? Just take a breath, okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. It makes some of the anger drain from his features, that you weren’t hurt, but you don’t get any closer and his lips press into a thin line.

“(Y/N). Come here.”

It’s stern. It reminds you of the same voice he uses every time you try and escape or fight with your siblings. It makes your stomach twist.

Your eyes flick to the door, and Dick, who was standing not far from the door way, sharp blue eyes watching you for any movement.

You make your decision, swallow, and ease forward.

Warm arms wrap around you the second you’re in reach, pressing you against Bruce’s chest, and you feel a bit of the tension in his shoulders unwind, just barely.

“This isn’t happening again, (Y/N). Do you understand me? What if you had gotten hurt, when the shelf came down? What if you had gotten hurt when you were in here and couldn’t say anything?”

Bruce was pissed, and he grips you tightly, tightly enough that you squirm in his hold, which only makes him grip you tighter.

“I wouldn’t have gotten myself hurt! It’s practically an empty room half the time, what could I have hurt myself with?”

God, you hated it when your mouth ran faster than your thoughts.

“That’s not what matters.” Dick cuts in. “The issue is that you could’ve, and we couldn’t have done anything about it!”

He pissed, practically spitting out the words, and you can hear Bruce’s frown.

“Dick, you need to calm down.”

“No! This is the fifth time this month they’ve tried something, you have to do something, Bruce! It’s stressing everyone out!”

You open your mouth to argue, ready to defend yourself because you hadn’t asked for any of this, but Bruce speaks before you can.

“I will.”

And suddenly you are far more preoccupied with trying to prevent Bruce from picking you up, twisting and squirming to get away, but he catches you easily. He presses you against him, this time the action restraining, and lifts, taking your feet off the ground.

The entire trip through the Manor, you are twisting and pushing against him, trying to escape. You nearly get close, once, when he was adjusting his hold and you had snapped your teeth at him, but Dick had lurched froward for a moment and it had startled you so badly that you had frozen, giving him time to readjust.

You’re dumped on a medical cot, and when you see the straps on either side, it nearly takes the both of them to hold you down long enough to get them on. Bruce looks pained the entire time, as you kick and flail, and when they’re both done, your arms are strapped securely enough that yanking on them does nothing.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bruce frowns, and then sighs, moving the cot. You’re moved with it, and you glare. “This is only temporary until we find a more permanent solution, (Y/N). Until we can trust you not to be a danger to yourself, alright? It won’t last long.”

Dick doesn’t look like he agrees.

You don’t either.

[peachesofteal]

The dead disco break up Pregnancy au got me in my feels all day. Literally all day.

And all I can think about is when the guys get home? Find her not at the apartment and they’re both like, “can’t blame her, I get it” and are over come with guilt. Their own relationship getting a little rocky. Maybe Johnny gets frustrated more easily with Simon. Simon withdrawals a little more into himself bc that’s how he handles pain and grief. But they make it through. They always do. Until they find out about darling and the baby. However that happens, be it in a grocery store or whatever. But Simon comes from a very traumatized childhood. He sees the baby and just knows. That’s their kid. And is overcome with so much grief bc now he’s no worse that his dad is he? What’s worse than someone that’s there and beats you? Someone that’s not there at all. Not knowing. And he has always promised himself he’d never be like his father, but than this is just too close to comfort.

I imagine he surprises not only himself but Johnny and darling the most when he ends up doing something drastic. There were no words he had to defend himself or Johnny. He’d be mature. Whatever it takes, whatever darling needed just let him be in his child’s life, let him be in your life, let him do better. Don’t LET HIM HAVE THIS WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS.

Darling would have more whiplash than Johnny but even Johnny is taken back by the lengths Simon would go? (Getting out the military? Domestic security and law enforcement jobs so he can be home? Idk?) but Simon just comes out of no where, with “I’m here. I’m not going no where. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.” Bc he does love darling and he does love Johnny, but that kid? He’d move heaven and hell for that kid. It was Ryan Reynolds who was like “I love my wife, love her more than anything. Then we had our baby girls and realized I would use my wife as a human shield to protect my kids” As a joke of course but it’s to that extent. Simons 2 priority’s become taking care of that child and mending the relationship between the three of them, not bc he loves them (he totally does, and his devotion to his partners is infallible) BUT BECAUSE that kid needs to know what healthy relationships are based out of love and communication not grief and missed social cues and resentment.

Simon takes fatherhood seriously. Most serious job there is. And he’s not going to let darling’s (low key selfish) feelings of betrayal and self deprecation keep him from taking care of his child and said mother of that child.

———

Johnny however? He’s the one that’s hesitant surprisingly. He’s hurt. Beyond hurt that you wouldn’t tell them something like this. It’s the adult thing to at least say something right? Even if they did leave. This is more than them now. And he goes along with Simons initiative to fix all of this but Johnny needs some serious reassurance and maybe an outlet for all this anger and hurt he has. And there’s so much going on that it’s easy for Simon and darling to kinda miss that a little bit,

Until Johnny doesn’t want to hold the baby. Says he’s scared he’d drop it. But Simon knows better.

Johnny feels lost.

Darling feels lost.

Simon is their beacon of light in the darkness.

It comes down to the sexiest night known to human existence, and a lot of crying and confessions while fucking all those emotions out. Simon has always known how to get these two to let down their walls. Breakfast is for figuring out detail’s schedules ect. But that night? That was them fixing it. Letting go and moving forward. In the sexiest. Way. Possible.

^look what you’ve done to me. I’m serving alcohol at a bar thinking about these characters, THE DISTRACTION IS REAL AND I NEED MORE.

You’re fantastic. I hate you for doing this to my brain. Love ya!

Um… hi? Hello? Come back. Let’s talk about this more, let’s break it down. I am obsessed with this. I love this. 🩵🩵

Simon goes into protective overdrive the second he see’s you. Not sure how or when or where it happens, but Bee is not even two months old, and he doesn’t even need to ask you. She’s so little, cocooned in a linen wrap, cradled to your chest, and he already knows. How could that baby be anyone’s but their own?

He does exactly as you’ve described, drops everything and retires early. Price and Johnny always thought he’d make captain soon, but none of that matters now. His military aspirations have meant less and less every year since he met Johnny, and meeting you only sped his career’s ultimate demise along.

He’s not going to let the cycle repeat. He’s not going to let his child grow up and feel like they’ve been abandoned by him. He’s not going to let Bee grow up without him being there. Loving her. Supporting her. He won’t be his father. He refuses.

You agree to let them see her, and agree to let them take her for nights or days if they’d like. But you won’t let them in. Won’t do much more than co parent with them, won’t engage in anything real with them, won’t give them a single inch. You stonewall them, block them out, give them excuses and refusals at every turn. Sure, they can be in their daughter’s life… but they can’t be in yours.

While Bee is important, you are too. He wouldn’t use you as a shield to save her, he’d save you both. There’s no option. No choice. You’re the love of their lives, the now mother of his child. He’d lay down and die for you.

But none of that matters. You won’t let them in.

It drives Simon insane. He’s understanding, and mature about it, and patient (compared to Johnny, who’s running hot over it… frustrated, agitated, consistently visibly upset, holding onto his anger and resentment over the fact you never came forward and even told them about Bee. Johnny can’t get over that you went through everything alone… can’t understand why you wouldn’t tell them, give them a chance to be there for you.. and it stings. It hurts him, so fucking much, and that hurt melds into anger, it burns into his heart and twists his feelings until they’re a jumbled mess.) but he can’t seem to make you understand that they love you, that they thought about you everyday when they were gone, that they mourned the end of the relationship. It’s not just about the baby, they were coming back for you no matter what. They knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they weren’t meant to live their lives without you. They made a mistake.

But… they fucking abandoned you. And now they come back, and see that you have a baby and just decide they want to be back in your life? No. Absolutely not. They didn’t want you anymore, before Bee… nothing has changed. You won’t let yourself fall back into their grasp, and you’re so adamant about that that you fight them nearly at every turn. Can they take Bee? Sure. But “family trips” to the store? “Family trips” to the park? Not happening. You pack her diaper bag and kiss her goodbye, while Simon watches you with an intense scrutiny, eyes tracking your every step while he holds little Bee is his giant hand. He doesn’t miss a single thing, doesn’t miss the way your hands shake when you press a sweet kiss against her cheek, doesn’t miss the way your body moves sluggishly, like you’re exhausted, even after the nights they’ve had Bee, which means you should have gotten plenty of rest. Johnny just stands in the corner and stares at the floor, hands in his pockets during these exchanges, practically unwilling to engage with you in any way because he’s just so… upset with you, still. He’s better with Bee, loves her dearly, but can’t get past what he’s holding inside of himself, can’t get past how he feels so betrayed you, even though a part of him thinks he has no right to those feelings.

I love your last little bit - about the night Simon breaks you and Johnny apart and then puts you back together. There is something very similar/along those lines in the actual fic outline.

BUT ALSO… let’s imagine: They try to fix it. They try to get you to let them back in, to open up to them, to let them be there for you. As time goes on, Johnny changes, the red hot fire of anger that burns inside of him eventually goes out, lovingly smothered by Simon, and his resentment and feelings of betrayal all melt away. How could he ever have felt those things, when you were the one who was left all alone? Pregnant, with no way to contact them? He lets it all go, fully embracing parenting with you and Simon, trying to get back into your life, trying to love and support you from afar, any way they can. They start to notice a change in you… you seem a little happier, a little lighter on your feet, a little more relaxed and they think it might be working… that you finally might be growing more amenable about letting them in, about building back the relationship.

Until… they show up for Bee’s first birthday party, and there’s a man with his hand splayed on the small of you back in the backyard, holding you, tugging your body into his, while Bee shrieks and giggles on the blanket in the grass. There’s another man, watching their daughter, holding their darling girl close, while they stand in the doorway, shell shocked.

[n0nexist4nt]

Hey, I hope you're okay. I love your writing. Have a nice day, buddy!!

Anyway, if you need ideas, I have one. How about Billy Kid with a reader who has been separated from civilization for a long time, or since birth? Technology for the reader is something scary, because, “what the hell is this??". In my head it looks funny how Billy is genuinely interested in the reader (romantically or not, your choice) while the reader is just "WHAT ARE YOU AND WHERE I AM"

I’m doing fine :) Could say the same for your writing too.

HELL YEAAH fuckin great idea.

Secluded!Reader x Billy Kid HEADCANONS

This’ll contain both platonic shit and romantic shit

Cw: None?

Reader is Gender Neutral as the gender was not specified

You grew up without ever really interacting with anyone and without being involved in any form of civilization. Your parents wanted to “protect” you, so they secluded you from the rest of society.

When you finally were brought into the city, everything was almost overwhelming. You hardly even knew how to hold a conversation with someone-

But there was another thing you found terrifying. Any form of technology.

The more complex forms, such as robots, scared you even more. How could something nonliving be so… ALIVE???

The bangboos scared you enough. But when you first ran into Billy? You at first fucking ran for your life.

Billy was confused. But, as he saw you more and more, he found himself wanting to befriend you.

He tried SO. HARD. He was always confused when you started trembling like a lost and traumatized puppy, trying to make himself seem as nice as possible.

Eventually, you asked him, “..What the fuck even are you? How are you so??? Eeeeh???”

Billy probably found it funny. He tried to explain how robotics and different technologies worked. You just ended up confused-

Honestly, you didn’t trust Billy much at this time. Hell, you didn’t even trust most of the other civilians-

The way that he gained a large portion of your trust? Defending you against a monster that was about to murder you. You hadn’t even known it was behind you-

You were pretty shaken up after that, but hey, you trusted Billy after that.

Billy was pretty hesitant when it came to touching you since you were jumpy as hell around robots, but once you came around, he gave you more touches more often. (All platonic at the time)

If he started to crush on you? He’d probably be a bit more touchy and stick around with you more. He’d also get a liiiittle bit overprotective.

Any time you brought up your parents and how you were raised, Billy would honestly feel kind of bad. He’d also be pissed at your parents for keeping you this secluded, so uh.. keep him away from your parents? (Assuming they’re still alive, it’s up for interpretation ig)

Billy would probably buy you a phone and help you get used to it. Though, he’d laugh as you struggle since honestly, it’s funny watching you struggle with it like a 102 year old grandma.

If you two got together, you can expect a shit ton of rambling from this guy and a lot of cuddles. He’d still be a bit careful with you since he knows you didn’t grow up with technology, and he’d make sure to teach you some things here and there about either himself or tech shit in general

I snatched the idea and ran with it

Might have gotten slightly off topic

Idk

[dinitride-art]

Mike Wheeler in Season Four (Analysis/Theory) Pt.3/3

Ignoring most of the symbolism in this scene because I simply don’t have the space here (I will later in my lighting analysis, though so. Part like... 45-50 will be an absolute banger of a post)- I’m going to focus on Will.

Will’s been the one keeping Mike together this season, but as they’ve come back to Hawkins that has evened out. And now it might be flipping slightly. Will is still in the light/Mike’s light, but clearly is the one who needs someone to lean on.

Will’s still in the light but it’s becoming more obvious that now that they’re back in Hawkins, he’s struggling. He’s reaching out to Mike for the same comfort he’s given this season. The same way that Mike was with him in season two. The way that Mike and Will are looking for comfort in each other is becoming more equal. 

They’re both struggling. But Will still has a blue background, and Mike a yellow one. And Will’s still in the light, and Mike’s left eye is still in shadow. The way we see Mike is in a juxtaposition to his background. His left eye is next to a window with a yellow curtain, and the side of his face in the light is next to the dark. Similarly, Will is in the light, but behind him is a blue tinted background- like that of Vecna’s trances. 

Neither of them are doing well. But they’re still looking to the other for help. 

Will’s reaching for Mike and Mike’s meeting Will halfway. Just like Will’s done for him, and like he’s always done for Will. But they might now be able to fix this on their own. Not when they’re both starting to crumble. 

Still, Will looks to Mike for help first. And Mike tries to reassure him and comfort him the best he can. Mike doesn’t reach out to Will a lot this season. It’s Will that has to ask him what’s wrong, or bump into him. Sometimes he’ll look to Will for reassurance, but he hasn’t really initiated any physical contact. 

As soon as Will asks him for it though, he reaches out. 

And holds onto to Will for as long as he can.

(Again, I am skipping past so much stuff here. So ignoring 90% of what’s happening here-) We see Hopper and El looking at the Byers family reunion. Mike and Nancy are also in the middle of this shot, looking at the Byers. If Hopper didn’t immedietly talk to Mike after, I wouldn’t say there’s much backing up the thought that Hopper is looking at Mike here. But I think he is. Because Mike’s not with El in the cabin where Hopper found her, he’s with Will. And Hopper sees that.

El and Will on either side of Mike is showing that he really sees that. Another person is taking note of Mike and Will. 

They’re staying by each other’s sides. And it’s becoming a lot more obvious to the other characters- and the audience- as to what that actually means. 

And that’s terrifying. 

They can’t hide anymore under the shelter of being traumatized kids. Not when Mike can’t tell El he loves her until she’s dying on the table in front of him. Not when Will’s the only one who Mike talks to. Not when Will and Mike are meeting each other halfway every time. As they’re getting just a few years older, the people around them are starting to look further. And they’re starting to understand exactly what’s going on. 

Before Mike and Will even have a chance to let their relationship change, people are noticing that it might. 

[queerpanikkar]

let’s go together

“Did you have some sort of popcorn emergency?” he asks instead. “Like, oh my god we were eating popcorn and then a ladder truck fell from the ceiling and now Eddie’s in the hospital so we couldn’t clean this up, emergency?”

Buck coughs. It’s slight, but sets off warning bells in Ravi’s head. “Actually,” Buck mutters, “Someone died.”

700 words 

Ravi doesn’t know much about the A-shift these days. Things happen—people are needed elsewhere, Ravi’s too afraid to be on A-shift without Lucy there to normalize things, you know how it is—and he’s taken up residence with the cool and ordinary B-shift where none of the firefighters are in gay love with each other and people only almost die every other month instead of every other week.

It’s a bit boring, but he thinks he could use the break. Actually, after being traumatized by chainsaws and not two, but three white man, one of whom turned out to be a murderer (all caps), he thinks he deserves a break. Maybe a vacation. One that doesn’t end with his father having a stroke and driving a car through the wall of his house.

They are so weird. Ravi thinks he might become religious again to start praying for them. Anyway, this is just a long-winded way of saying, that when there’s popcorn spilt over the couch and B-shift is intersecting with the problem children, he takes it upon himself to help out a little, and grabs the dust pan from the broom closet.

Well, he pauses, and tries a few—stale and too buttery, but still more edible than Ana’s muffins. Makes sure no one catches him in the act because they all think he lives in some sort of quasi-frat house where they live on microwave pizza and takeout. As if Marcus doesn’t exclusively shop in the Organic Section and rack up their bill by a hundred dollars.

“What are you doing?” Buck wonders, gratingly. Ravi shudders with some Pavlovian reaction and holds up the dust pan without looking at him.

“Did you have some sort of popcorn emergency?” he asks instead. “Like, oh my god we were eating popcorn and then a ladder truck fell from the ceiling and now Eddie’s in the hospital so we couldn’t clean this up, emergency?”

Buck coughs. It’s slight, but sets off warning bells in Ravi’s head. “Actually,” Buck mutters, bleak and exhausted and yearning for hope that he expects Ravi to give him. “We lost someone today. Sorry, one of us should’ve cleaned it up. It’s just—”

“You don’t have to—” Ravi cuts himself off with a frustrated tsk. He motions to the slightly less popcorn-y side of the sofa, and Buck sinks into it like a marionette doll with all of its strings cut. 

Ravi sits on the coffee table across from him. They’re both so tall that their knees keep knocking into each other, but neither of them move. They’re friends—Ravi knows that—but it aches sometimes, to see Buck so immutably sad.

Buck’s mouth purses into a scowl. “We should get our lives together.”

Ravi splutters. Like, yeah, Buck’s sad, but Ravi did not sign up to have a joint-existential crisis. He gets enough of that as a Hashtag Zillenial. 

“Who is we?” he demands. “I am—my life is so great. It’s like—the opposite of Ned Fulmer’s life right now. Maybe you should be having this conversation with him, did you ever think of that?”

Buck squints. “Who is Ned?” he asks. “Is he on B-shift?”

“Maybe you should be on the B-shift,” Ravi replies, both fiercely and nonsensically.

That gets a smug grin out of him. “Why?” Buck asks. “Miss me?”

Ravi mocks him—”Whymissme?”—and then, because he doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone and Buck sorta reminds him of that dumpster cat behind his apartment that he’s trying to convince Sebastian to adopt, “So what happened on the call, exactly?”

Buck stares at something behind Ravi. Though, unless they’ve got a station paranormal demon, which Ravi wouldn’t put past them, there’s nothing there. “I have a problem with old men.”

“Okay.”

He explains it to Ravi in bits—a kid or the old man, their conversation, “I think I get it now”, the crush injury.

It’s been a hell of a day.

“Hmmm,” Ravi considers afterwards, because he’s not going to make it worse for himself and think about death and dying any more than he has to. “I guess it puts into perspective what’s really important, right? Like, I’m sure he gets it. All dying people remember are their regrets.”

“What if I don’t want any regrets?” Buck murmurs, as if Ravi didn’t just learn how to read 20 years ago. 

“Well then, I guess you gotta go for it.” Ravi wonders if they’re talking about Eddie Diaz. “Maybe you should go to your own happy meal convention.”

“Right,” Buck says distractedly. Which, wow, Ravi just made the joke of all time. “Thanks, man.”

“Oh, anytime,” Ravi replies (actually, let’s not do this again ever), and tries not to make cleaning up popcorn a metaphor for friendship.

[thranduel]

van scene analysis (+ hidden lines that got cut)

mike smiles a bit, looking back at that drawing, feeling better now.

will byers made mike wheeler feel better. his painting and his words made him happy and gave him strength. he was struggling before that and no one else could help him. only will.

don’t you think it’s crazy that mike has been in a relationship for several years, and the entire time, he never felt truly needed or confident about himself? how is that healthy or fair for a teenager with so much unresolved trauma? and how do you think el felt too? he couldn’t even say “i love you” to his own girlfriend or write it on paper. there is no communication or trust or honesty with their relationship, because if there was, their issues would’ve been resolved a long time ago WITHOUT the help of someone else. mike has been insecure during this entire relationship which has mentally affected him AND el.

several years of being in a relationship. kissing, hugging, holding hands and probably hundreds of letters sent as well. and yet, mike still didn’t feel needed. he didn’t feel confident. he didn’t feel loved enough. but all it took was one beautiful heart-to-heart conversation with will that changed everything. just ONE scene where will confessed his own feelings and told mike how much he loves him and that he’ll always need him, and mike suddenly felt strong and loved. he believed every word because it all came from will, and will was talking about his OWN feelings for mike. isn’t that crazy? one painting and one conversation with will byers and mike wheeler felt loved, truly loved, for the first time in his life. he felt more loved and needed in that single moment than he has felt during his entire relationship that he’s been in for years. mike doesn’t trust anyone the way he trusts will and he can’t be his true self with anyone else either. THAT is what shows us that mike and will are the ones that need each other more than anything. they make each other feel loved and needed because they have a connection that no one else has and they understand each other better than anyone else.

and the thing about mike and will is that their relationship is NOT based upon emotional attachment because they saved each other’s lives or feel like they owe each other something. no, they found each other when they were both lonely and mike made the choice to walk up to will. he didn’t have to choose him, but he did. out of all the other kids in the playground, he chose will. he didn’t even know anything about him. he just saw himself in him, another lonely kid, and thought that he might need someone too. then they became close because they’re so similar to each other and share the same interests. it has nothing to do with idolising each other or being amazed by what the other can do. they’re just two regular boys that love each other for who they are. they found each other when they needed each other most, they stayed by each other’s side through all their struggles (being bullied and outcasted) and they played games together as an escape and distraction from the real world. they have known each other for most of their lives, understand each other better than anyone else and have a connection that no one else can replace. after all, mike did say that asking will to be his friend was the best thing he’s ever done.

anyways, moving on. the fact that mike and el are unable to make each other feel better about themselves without the help of will says a LOT… el’s letters and her constant affection wasn’t enough to convince mike she “needs” him. he was still insecure and couldn’t even tell her he loved her when she was sobbing. mike also couldn’t comfort el or make her feel better during the entire roller rink incident. he just triggered traumatic memories and made her feel like a monster, which she literally told him.

but then will, kind and selfless will, gave mike his beautiful painting that he worked so hard on and pretended it was commissioned by el. already, that’s gonna make mike think “wow, she cares about me so much and she was thinking of me so she went out of her way to ask will to paint this. she knows how important d&d is to me and she sees me as the leader and the heart of the group” or something like that, but the thing is, she didn’t say any of that. and mike should’ve realised it wasn’t from her because she literally mentioned in her letter that will was painting something for someone he likes but he won’t show her. also, i’ve never even seen el talk about d&d. does she even know how much it means to the boys? mike and el don’t have anything in common and haven’t even had a proper heart-to-heart conversation where they’re actually honest with each other. they barely even know each other.

anyways, will then gave his speech about the heart. this was a very big thing that gave mike strength and confidence. will literally told mike that he inspires all of them and that he’s the leader, and the heart can also be seen as a romantic symbol. mike still thinks this is coming from el and that she made all that up herself when she didn’t.

then will continues. and here’s where it gets confusing. it’s extremely weird that mike doesn’t pick up on the fact he’s not talking about el, because the words he says literally cannot be applied to el. it doesn’t make any sense.

“but… you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all — like she’s better for being different.”

we already know this is false. and mike should too, considering his last conversation with her was their fight where she said “you think i’m a monster too.” not to mention all the times he’s been scared of her, yelled at her and triggered traumatic memories from the lab which parallel brenner (i still find it weird that mike has the most parallels with brenner in regards to the way he talks to el sometimes and how he only praises her for her powers and for being a “superhero” instead of who she actually is as a person. obviously mike and brenner are very different people, but it’s just weird how the show intentionally includes flashbacks of brenner whenever mike triggers el to show that’s who she’s thinking of).

even when mike was talking about her to will, he started with “she’s… special. she was born special”. that entire scene was only him talking about her powers, how she’s like superman, how it wasn’t fate or destiny but dumb luck that he stumbled on her in the woods (because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight and this has been clear since the beginning), and how he wants to be needed. he didn’t even mention the word “love”. he’s just worried about not being needed because he’s insecure about himself. the entire thing feels weird. their whole relationship just screams “two kids that saved each other’s lives during a traumatic time and are emotionally attached to each other and feel like they’re stuck in a romantic relationship because that’s all they’ve known since they rushed into it and kissed when they were 12 years old after 6 days of knowing each other”, and it’s really sad.

even though they didn’t start technically dating until season 3, romance was already pushed onto them the moment mike kissed her in season 1. it’s like he already decided what their relationship was going to be even though el couldn’t communicate at the same level as him and didn’t know what romance was. they had no time to develop a friendship first. they barely even knew each other. even now, they still don’t. they don’t have anything in common, they don’t feel like equals (both of them admitted this), they don’t understand each other, they don’t make each other feel better about themselves, they don’t have heart-to-heart conversations, there’s no trust and honesty, they always lie to each other, they pretend to be people they’re not and they can’t even be themselves with each other.

it’s also very interesting that this line from mike was cut from the final scene.

“she’s already beginning to understand she doesn’t need me. i saw it — i saw it in her eyes, that last time we talked.”

like, wow. even mike knows that el doesn’t actually need him. that’s why he’s so insecure. and that’s why it makes will’s monologue even more frustrating and heartbreaking because he tried fixing their relationship when he didn’t have to. they were probably ready to break up (which would’ve been better for both of them) if it weren’t for will pushing them back together. and isn’t it crazy that he pushed them back together by lying? something that all the characters don’t like? the iconic phrase “friends don’t lie” has been a part of the show since the beginning.

that’s why they have to come back and address this scene. they can’t just let mike and el stay together because of will’s lies that “fixed” their relationship (it didn’t actually fix anything because mike and el didn’t even communicate at all. i don’t think they’ve ever actually resolved their issues properly) and they can’t let mike not find out that the painting and monologue was from will because it was such an important scene. there are too many lies going on here and they can’t just leave it like that. but anyways, it hurts so much seeing will try to fix their relationship by sacrificing his own feelings and disguising them as el’s. will was clearly heartbroken too, but he just wanted to do what he could to make the people he loves happy. he didn’t want them to be sad. he’s the most kind and selfless person in this entire show.

anyways, back to will’s monologue.

“and that gives her the courage to fight on.”

again, that can’t be applied to el. the last time mike was alone with her, they were fighting and she was having a breakdown in front of him. he wasn’t giving her courage, he was hurting her. obviously he wasn’t trying to do that, but he was. and i’m not saying he’s never given her courage, because of course he has, but i’m specifically talking about the last moment they had together before she left to go with owens. the way he spoke to her and stared at her at the roller rink, the way he triggered a traumatic memory from brenner when he said “what did you do?”, the way he didn’t comfort her or talk to her after it, the way he made a sarcastic comment and made her leave the dinner table, the way he gaslighted her and called her ridiculous for confronting him about their issues (see, no honest communication), the way he couldn’t even tell her he loved her when she was practically begging.

like he said above, “she’s already beginning to understand she doesn’t need me. i saw it — i saw it in her eyes, that last time we talked”. he’s literally aware of how she felt in that scene and he admitted it. so how does he believe will when he said he gives her the courage to fight on? mike knows el made the decision to leave with owens as well even though she might not ever see him again. she even sent him a letter saying “from, el” because she felt defeated and lonely and he wasn’t giving her the love she wanted. she also knew that saving her friends in danger was more important than her relationship issues with mike, and she thought getting her powers back might make her feel worth something at least since mike was no help. she was already insecure about not having her powers since that’s all mike talked about anyways.

“and if she was mean to you or — or she seemed like she was pushing you away — it’s probably just because she was scared of losing you, just like you’re scared of losing her.”

another line that can’t be applied to el because she wasn’t “mean” to mike and never pushed him away. she constantly sent him letters. they were communicating the entire time. mike even saw the shrine she made for him in his room, so obviously he knows how much effort she’s been putting into their relationship.

the only person that was “mean” to mike and pushed him away was will. we know this because they lost contact. they literally argued about it. “maybe you should’ve reached out more, i don’t know”, was what mike said to will. and obviously will remembered that and he saw how hurt mike looked. so will was trying to apologise for that and let him know the truth about why he pushed him away (but obviously he disguised it as el… ugh mike how are you not putting it together??).

then the line “it’s probably just because she’s scared of losing you, just like you’re scared of losing her” is literally a parallel to mike and will’s conversation in 4x04. will is responding to what mike told him about being scared of losing him. mike said “it’s hawkins. it’s not the same without you” and “maybe i felt like i lost you or something”. these lines can only be applied to mike and will.

“because losing you — it just hurts — it hurts too much.”

this line is absolutely heartbreaking because it tells us how much will is hurting. the thought of losing his safe place, his best friend and the boy he’s in love with is so incredibly painful for him. why would they put him through all of this pain and make him be in love with mike from the beginning if they were just going to make it unrequited? like they said, it hurts too much. not just a little bit, but TOO MUCH. and after everything will has been through and how he’s been abused, bullied, kidnapped, possessed, traumatised, excluded and lonely his entire life, how can they make him suffer even more? that’s so cruel and unnecessary and they’ll get so much backlash for using will’s feelings as a plot device just to force another ship back together while leaving him heartbroken. also, how can this line be applied to el anyways? she chose to go with owens even though she was warned she might not ever see mike again. she even sent him a letter saying “from, el” which symbolised her being done with him. the “love” was no longer there (literally and metaphorically, in regards to the romantic aspect of their relationship). she already lost mike. she made her decision.

“so yeah — el needs you, mike. and she always will.”

mike takes this all in. emotional now too.

mike wants to be needed the way that will needs him. will’s painting and the words he said made mike emotional because no one else has ever made him feel that way. no one else has ever given him that much strength and confidence about himself.

“you really think so?”

“i know so.”

once again, mike is asking will for reassurance, because will is the only person he feels completely safe with. he’s the only person he fully trusts, the only person he can confide in, the only person he can be vulnerable with. mike and will have the closest relationship and understand each other better than anyone else. that’s why mike can only believe things when it comes from will.

the fact that will is the person that made mike happy and is the only reason why mike ended up saying his monologue to el is exactly why season 5 needs to come back to this scene and address everything. they cannot just use will’s painting and feelings for mike as a plot device for another ship. he cannot be the couple’s therapist that fixes their problems when they can’t even do that themselves. that’s just insulting to his character and it’s wrong for so many reasons. mike has to find out the painting was from will. he has to find out that will was confessing his own feelings the entire time too. all of this came from will. he put so much effort into that painting for mike and he meant every word he said. will needs mike. he’ll always need mike. and mike needs will too even if he doesn’t realise it yet. mike wants to be needed the way will needs him. he wants to be loved the way will loves him. he wants to be seen as the leader and the heart the way will sees him as the leader and the heart.

mike and will need each other more than anything and they have to finally realise that in season 5.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Looking for: not sure maybe just venting, a response if you want.

Idk if there’s tw

I want to know if anybody else has been through similar? I’ve been revictimized a lot in my life I choice to stop socializing and going to events just isolating now because I don’t wanna be abused again…

I had two abusive exes. And after the second one which was pretty bad too, I chose not to date again.

I’ve had some toxic friends but nothing too bad but they do talk a lot of shit about me and spread rumors.

Ive dealt with abusive parents which is probably what set me up for failure in other relationships.

Ive dealt with being bullied by friend groups and by classmates. A lot of people stayed away from me because they heard rumors and some people asked me weird questions like Ik they heard rumors about me.

I feel like it is never ending. And I’m just destined to be abused no matter who I meet it’ll always happen. I always feel like this’ll follow me from lifetime to lifetime and god is punishing me.

I honestly feel like I’m not traumatized or it should’ve been worse for me to complain. Idk if I have any disorders I’m not diagnosed and I can’t find a doctor because I don’t have money. I’m just depressed ig. Kind of numb most days.

It almost feels like im playing victim card or something but Ik what I’ve been through. Like it feels like everyone hates me and they must be right about me. I mean Ik everyone hates me. Nobody wants to go near me. There must be a reason im avoided, there must be a reason im hated, they must’ve seen something broken in me that I couldn’t see and they’re just doing their duty as people to cast me out or bully me. My parents were so happy to have a kid and the picture of them holding me as a baby they look so happy and so caring in those pictures. I must’ve fucked up at a young age and that’s why they didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault and I know it. Idk what to do anymore. I’m sorry you don’t have to answer this.

Hi anon,

It's entirely up to whether or not you want to date. However it's worth considering that life is a risk and you deserve the possibility of being loved to a degree you've never experienced before. That also extends to social gatherings - human beings are social creatures and need interaction to survive and thrive. Your past experiences do not deserve to steal your ability to have joyful and meaningful connections and memories. There are ways to enjoy a social life and love life without fear of abuse.

It also sounds like you're dealing with "mythologization" which is a common experience among survivors of complex trauma. Mythologization is a term I use to describe the feeling that the abuse you've experienced is on a cosmic or spiritual level, like feeling as if your abuse was predestined by god. Especially when you've been revictimized and polyvictimized, it's even easier to feel this way.

Going drastic lengths to avoid abuse is traumatized behavior. It's also common for trauma survivors to victim-blame and gaslight themselves as you've outlined in your last two paragraphs. It's okay to acknowledge that you have trauma, but it's understandable to find difficulty in accepting this due to the consequences of being traumatized.

It's important to remember that trauma is not defined by what happened, but instead by how we are affected. This is because there are various factors that affect one's resilience - the ability to recover from an adverse experience. Everyone is dealt a unique set of cards which means that everyone had varying degrees of resilience. So what may be traumatic to you may not be traumatic to someone else, but that doesn't mean you aren't or shouldn't be traumatized. It makes sense given the hand you were dealt and that's okay. This also means that it makes little sense to compare your trauma to those you feel have it worse - because they have a completely different life, with a completely different set of cards.

A difficult part of healing is acknowledging the severity of your past while giving yourself permission to be happy and enjoy the present moment. You do not have to be miserable to be a valid trauma survivor. You deserve to be happy in spite of everything that has happened.

-Bun

[holdinbacksecrets]

“i’m not that smart.”

“i disagree.”

“i spent too many years with my nose in the trees instead of in between pages that could’ve taught me some valuable lessons.”

“trees can do that too. they’re filled with history, with resiliency. nature’s a better teacher. my mom always told me so.”

“your mom’s a tree hugger like me?”

“i’ve always thought so, but seeing and believing are two separate things. you’ll have to meet her and decide for yourself.”

“is that an invitation?”

“yes, a belated one.”

“i thought you would never ask me. maybe because all this time has passed without a word, and you met my parents… was it traumatizing?”

“no, why would you say that? your parents are great, and it wasn’t anything like that. i just… i have a thing about reality, like the tangible reality of things and how it changes when you share.”

“i assume i’m this thing being shared?”

“you catch on quickly.”

“it’s easy… i’m kidding.”

“i know. i can’t hide anything from you, but i stopped trying to.”

“you hide things from me.”

“i didn’t… what do i hide?”

“your feelings. i mean, you just said you have a hard time making something real and known, and i get it. there’s fear in unknowns and choosing to take steps with someone else. getting hearts involved and families— yeah, it’s scary shit, but i don’t know… at some point holding your breath is only exhausting.”

“so what do you think i should do?”

“about all these things or just me?”

“just you.”

“well, i love you. i would love to meet your family, and i think actually experiencing that moment may help you work through the…”

“weirdness?”

“weirdness works. i was going to say feeling of being overwhelmed… the anxiety. i swear anticipation is like an ocean, but then the thing— the experience… sometimes it’s like a shallow kids pool. it’s safe and warm and you can see your toes, and it’s not scary.”

“it is nice to see you toes.”

“right?! i knew you’d think so. it’s just like trees.”

“you’ve lost me there.”

“i used to be afraid of climbing trees after my neighbor fell out of one and broke her arm, but i didn’t let myself go longer than a week before being back in one’s branches. i used to ask my parents to drive me to the park on saturday afternoons so i could climb bigger trees. the backseat on the way there was like my shallow, kids pool.”

“ok.”

“what?”

“i’m calling my mom tonight. you have to meet her. she has to meet this person who talks about trees with stars in their eyes, and i’m so in love with you. i need the image of us all sitting at the dining room table where i used to slice my birthday cakes and watch cartoons before school in my memory. should we go?”

“it’s 2pm. that’s not quite tonight.”

“i can’t wait that long. we have to do it before i lose this urgency.”

“ok, let’s go then.”

“we should’ve hung out in the park sooner. we sat in the grass for an hour, and i’m a new person.”

“don’t worry, i’m sure we’ll be back.”

[thebisexualagendasblog]

I Rant About Black Widow

The reason why people say this fight scene is dumb is an understandable one. At first glance, it looks like a well-choreographed but random fight, like the producers threw it in just because they needed something interesting to happen. After all, why would two sisters be trying to murder each other out of nowhere?

There is an explanation, and that explanation is emotion.

First, I want you to think about how Natasha is feeling at this point. She’s already stressed: the Avengers have broken up and 117 countries are hunting her down with the intention of throwing her in prison to rot. That would push someone close to the edge already. To top it off, she’s just been attacked and defeated by some guy in a fancy suit who can mimic her moves and use them against her. She doesn’t know who he’s working for or what they want, but she does know that it has something to do with her sister Yelena.

That must be a massive punch in the gut to Natasha. She hasn’t seen Yelena in twenty years, and as we learn shortly after the fight, genuinely believes that she took down the Red Room and freed the Black Widows. There’s no reason that Yelena would be involved with some secret violent conspiracy, right?

Now if you ask me, Natasha really does think that Dreykov is dead, but there’s wishful thinking going on too. The Red Room and the separation from Yelena were so traumatizing that she would prefer to avoid any reminders of that pain. As she says later, “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” she assumes that Yelena wants to forget about all that as well.

At the fight scene in Budapest, Natasha is going in with almost no information or trust, and a great deal of fear and anger that her broken relationships are being dredged up again. Now onto Yelena.

The audience can guess that Natasha was very important to Yelena from the photographs in the mind control antidote. If she loves Natasha enough to hold onto those photos for two decades, she probably isn’t thrilled that Natasha apparently feels the opposite.

Yelena refers to herself as Natasha’s family—“you didn’t want your little sister tagging along whilst you saved the world with the cool kids”—which hints to us how Yelena feels about Natasha treating her distantly for their first few scenes together.

For a big chunk of the rest of the movie, Natasha spends a ton of time in denial. She doesn’t want to acknowledge Yelena as her sister for the reasons I mentioned above, and also the unavoidable truth that if they’re family, Natasha has abandoned her little sister. While Natasha is trying to push these feelings down, Yelena very much feels the sting of betrayal. She doesn’t see the trauma left behind on Natasha, she sees her own and is angry that Natasha willingly left her to that.

Yelena has also just come out of extended and brutal mind control and doesn’t know which parts of her were real. She won’t trust anyone, least of all the person indirectly responsible for it.

So, to summarize, we have the perfect recipe for a fight here. Yelena is furious that she was betrayed and left to her own devices. Natasha is stressed and deeply in denial about her past. It’s clear to both of them that the other one does not trust them and is not to be trusted.

Looking closer at the actual fight also clears things up a bit. Natasha is more on the defensive and when she has an opportunity or the upper hand, uses it to disarm and try to pin Yelena to the ground instead of hurting her. She’s also the first to call for a truce when they’re strangling each other. On the other hand, Yelena slams Natasha’s head into the wall a few times and goes for a very large knife when given the chance.

In conclusion, this fight scene seems out of place at first glance, but if you look at Natasha and Yelena’s mental/emotional states at the time, it makes a lot more sense.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

hi there!! so i LOVE Come Now, Little Prince, they’re all precious and you write soft janus so WELL, im so happy Remus is finally getting the love he deserves too! Buuuut i’m a little confused on a few things, and maybe this has already been clarified in the story and i just missed it, but is remus older than roman? Cause Janus treats roman like a young kid basically, and calls the others all “little heroes”, but treats remus like an adult, what with bringing him whisky and referring to him as a man rather than a boy or kid. Or are they the same age and janus has just never cared for remus because he’s a hardened crime boss, but now that he’s softened up thanks to the heroes, he’ll realize remus is really just as young and traumatized as they are? also, and i’m very sorry to bombard you with questions but this is the last one, what are the age ranges for the heroes/remus/janus? I keep picturing roman and the heroes as 17-18, and janus somewhere in his 40s, but is that wrong?

again, sorry for all the questions, i just really enjoy the story and having the answers to these questions would help me enjoy it better! don’t feel the need to answer any you don’t want to or that might be spoilers tho, ofc 💕💕 ty!!

Remus and Roman are about the same age--I think Remus is a few months older. Roman's definitely the oldest of the heroes--they're all early twenties, Virgil's the youngest at 20 even, Roman and Remus the oldest at 23. Janus is in his 40s, I picture him around 44.

Janus definitely treated Remus as just a henchman for a long time and kind of took him for granted until Roman's whole...ordeal. I think Remus was just grateful to have that clear divide between boss/employee. In a weird way he's glad Janus didn't care that much about him because that meant he didn't have to worry about someone putting effort into keeping him the way he was, there was a freedom in knowing he could die and just be replaced and it wouldn't matter.

But then of course here comes Roman, who's made Janus all soft and tender and all the things Remus still doesn't know because all he ever had was stolen moments between swivels of a security camera and the tenderness of having someone you know patch up the wounds they gave you. And now he's wondering if he missed his chance for that because Janus isn't like that with him. He's not special to Janus and he went out of his way to make sure of that. Janus is his boss, not his protector.

There is a moment for Janus, though, where he's trying so hard to keep Roman and the other heroes separate from his work as the Serpent--he can't have people knowing he's going soft after all--and realizes he's using Remus to do that. And it isn't that Remus is protesting or making a fuss about it, it's that he isn't. He's letting Janus push him around and treat him the way he always does--like he's nothing but a tool and always about two wrong steps from being taken on a very long drive off a very short pier--and vanishing when he isn't called upon.

In my head there's one time where Janus finds Roman and Remus asleep on Roman's bed (that he doesn't use very often because snek gotta cuddle) and is struck by three things.

One: his first instinct is to yell at Remus for falling asleep while watching Roman.

Two: he's horrified that he wants to do that.

Three: Remus, asleep, curled up in Roman's hold, looks so young.

'Cause Janus still needs to be gentle with the heroes, they're so fresh from the trauma and everything that he has to be careful, has to treat them like they're fragile, can't be too possessive just yet.

But with Remus?

Remus is his.

And I think that there's a part of him that sighs in relief when he realizes he can be as feral and possessive and fierce as he wants with Remus because Remus wants him to be. The heroes need time to figure out who they are without the Cyrus Corporation, Remus wants to feel like he belongs somewhere where he's wanted. And so in true Remus fashion he wants it to be messier, less polished, less practiced and safe and calculated.

Janus definitely chases Remus down a little bit once he realizes how fucked up Remus still is from all this shit and is like give me your struggles and your messes and your fury, i will cradle you within it until it forges into armor

100% meltdowns all over Janus and the scared little boy who used to forego sleep until his brother came back finally learns what protection feels like

[pixelpulse22-blog]

I’m not her

Many men today are still searching for her asking me “have you seen her”? They have gone on to rave about how she is pure and innocent, she is not completely untouched but hasn't been touched much. She is the kind of girl you can bring home to your mother.

I've never met this girl, but I've heard so much about her over the years. Keeping up with her puts keeping up with the Joneses to shame. Who does this girl think she is? In my mind she’s about 5ft 7 you know tall enough but not too tall as to overshadow her man. She's naturally beautiful, with no need for makeup, and yes before you even ask she wakes up looking that way.

She cooks healthy yet delicious homemade meals every night and rubs her man’s feet when they're sore. She bakes like a champ and her heart is full of butterflies. Did I mention she feeds the homeless 3 nights a week? She is so selfless in-fact that she never asks for or needs anything for herself because loving her man gives her life all the purpose it needs. He is her King. She's not unintelligent by any means, but she knows her place and compliantly stays in it.

Anytime she is mentioned, I find myself upset by the mere idea of her. I will never be her. Yes, it took me two hours to get ready tonight and yes these eyelashes are fake and sorry I'm too exhausted tonight kids so McDonald's it is. Hello world!

Again I’ve never met her but I’ve met thousands who are searching for her. But if by some chance she comes my way I’ll be sure to kick her in the twat one good time for the havocs she’s caused before sending her your way.

Some days, it’s all I can do to stay afloat and navigate life’s challenges. I cannot and will not ever be that idealized woman, and the men who are searching for her unintentionally make me feel inadequate. They’re not trying to trigger me, but it feels like I've been strategically undermined. How do you ensure a woman never pursues you? Tell her you’re looking for perfection.

What I hear is, "Amy, you will never be enough. Men don’t bring traumatized women home to meet their mothers. Men don’t want a woman who is comfortable with her sexuality. Men prefer the timid, the unscathed, and the dutiful.

Which you my dear are not!

Oh, the webs of shit we feed our minds. These quantum standards we set for ourselves and others. All these impossible expectations we strive to achieve, and for what to live up to someone else’s version of what it means to be a worthy title wearing wife?

When will we as women learn that we all are beautiful beyond reproach? When will we learn we are exactly the person we were created to be and that is enough. The more we come to realize just how worthy and lovable we truly are, flaws and all the more unstoppable we become. Today I can stand

Reflection writing:

The Perfect Girl and Self Worth

A friend and I recently had an intriguing conversation during his ride home from out of town. His journey fascinates me, and I felt an urge to explore every crevice of his mind. However, knowing how invasive that could be, I tried to hold back. When I'm deeply interested in something I can come on a bit strong.

As we chatted about relationships, love, and life, my friend mentioned that he would never marry a girl who slept with him on the first night. This comment triggered a strong reaction within me, bringing out an aspect of my personality we will call "Sheila." Aka my Gecko (love you Yvonne)

Sheila the gecko has a reactive side, she is a fierce protector who emerges at any sign of change or discomfort. She can be uncouth and more often than not these days she is unwelcome..

Sheila arrives ready to defend. In this instance she wanted to argue that a one night stand or casual hookup could still be meaningful. My friend could have been a toad, Rumpelstiltskin, or the beast. It would not have mattered. I still would have internalized it as my own unworthiness or Sheila did until I made her throw that shit back. It’s not that I do not appreciate Shelia for her protection all these years bc I do, but Shelia only knows one path and that is the path of shame and isolation… I’m getting off that path.

After the call I pondered on how often in my life Ive allowed these external standards to affect my sense of self worth. My story I wrote about the "perfect girl" is a metaphor for this struggle I think so many of us women face. Anytime a man, woman, TV show, or book describes an ideal woman that I don't quite measure up to, I bring out the shame of not being enough then Sheila shows up trying reenact a scene out of the movie 300.

With a good deal of time and after a lot of hard knocks I have come to understand that my worth cannot be tied to these outside sources. Despite my significant progress in self awareness, I still yearn for the day when my joy remains unshaken by the world’s external judgments and opinions. A day where Shelia does not show up ever. A day where she will be nothing more than a distant memory of a time when my belief system did not serve me.

Life will inevitably bring me sorrows and I want to experience those emotions fully. However, I refuse to carry baggage that was never meant for me and let it harden my heart.

It has been a rough awakening for me to be able to come into some acceptance that most things are not about me, and they are certainly not meant to undermine me. Recognizing this truth has been a crucial step towards embracing my inherent worth and living authentically. Joy and love are my inheritance I will never need to fight for them.

May 28,2024 Reflective writing

My perceptions of the "perfect girl" is of an archetype that I feel many men seem to seek. These ideals are not only unrealistic but also harmful to society as a whole as it sets unattainable standards that have the ability to make women feel less than. Let’s take the notion of a woman who is effortlessly beautiful or endlessly selfless, then subservient to boot. These are common yet damaging stereotypes that undermine individuality and personal worth.

To insinuate that the woman you seek is a natural beauty who doesn’t need makeup is also making another silent yet strong statement that there is another category of women who are not naturally beautiful and who do need to wear makeup. It’s like putting women into an Excel table based on their attributes. Oh sorry you did not make the cut my formula said so. Yet the data set used was skewed. It’s like painting by numbers saying: "This color belongs here, that one doesn’t."

So when I as a woman hear this kind of comment I have to literally pull Sheila the Gecko back and have a chat with her because she wants to take that statement attach some shame to it and put it in my pocket. I don’t let Sheila pull that crap today at least not very often or for very long.

To say that the ideal woman cooks healthy, homemade meals every night is also making another silent statement that there is another category of women who rely on convenience foods or takeout and are therefore less worthy. It is judging someone else’s value based on whether they prepare gourmet dinners from scratch or opt for quick and easy solutions.

Last one, the ideal woman should be a stay at home partner who prioritizes household duties over a career is also making another silent statement…That there is another group of women who are career/goal oriented and therefore are less suitable as partners.

I want to be clear I’m not saying people shouldn’t have their own preferences in a partner. If you desire certain attributes in a woman or man, that’s perfectly fine by me and as well you should. However, where I strongly feel we as a society have gone astray is in how we communicate these preferences. Our words hold power and our words can unintentionally reinforce damaging stereotypes and unrealistic expectations. By learning how to be mindful of how our language and standards impact those around us we can and we will promote a more inclusive and compassionate perspective in the world which is what you hear all these companies screaming these days.

I have been learning through my experiences not to take on such external influences because in doing so it causes me to feel like myself worth is up for debate and it is not. I feel cultivating self awareness when these things happen in life is important and we all have a Gecko, for this story, I named mine Sheila. It has taken me years to even recognize Sheila. Geckos can be pot stirrers. They show up ready to defend because we in some way, have been “offended.” It is our job to figure out why we find ourselves in a place of offense because offense does not serve us in connection.

The more I grow, the more easily I am able to see Sheila when she shows up trying to take on the world for me. I can put her in a corner today and chat with her, and we are able to come to more logical and loving responses instead of defensive reactions. I can do my part and learn how to cultivate self-awareness, resilience, self-care, and love. I fear we as a collective are a long way off from seeing how our words hold immense power and how that power affects others. To get to that level of awareness takes some a lifetime and some never reach it, yet we are all born with it in us.

[sumu-samu]

Chapter 5

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Pairing: Bellamy Blake x OC

Genre: Fluff, angst, and everything in between

Warnings: curse words, death, blood, killing, gore, and some good old chaos

Summary: Xephyr Kane, Marcus’ adopted daughter, grew up on the Ark, but begged the council to lock her up in solitary after a traumatic experience involving her birth parents. Now, she’s being sent to the ground, on her own terms unlike the other 99 kids, in hopes to start new. But what happens when she gets down there, and nothing goes as planned? Throw in a hot headed “leader” that wasn’t supposed to be there and things get… difficult.

A/N: Number 5 here ya go.

Before dawn had risen, we heard some yelling from outside. I walked out of my tent at the same time Bellamy did, shirtless, sweaty, his hair all over the place. He looked at me, two girls walked out of his tent covered in blankets. I rolled my eyes and looked at the sky.

“They’re coming to help us. Now we can kick some grounder ass.” Jones said cheerfully.

“Please tell me they brought down some shampoo.” Roma, one of the girls who walked out of Bellamy’s tent, begged.

“It’s a launch pod.” I stated. “By the size, I’d say big enough to hold two people. Cargo space? Most likely none.” Bellamy and Jones walked into a smaller tent.

I followed. “If it cleared the ridge it’s probably by the lake.” Jones said as I walked in.

“We should get going, everyone’s ready.” I told them.

“No one’s going anywhere.” Bellamy shook his head. “Not while it’s dark, it isn’t safe. We’ll head out at first light, pass the word.” Everyone but Bellamy and I left the tent.

“Everyone for.. 100 miles saw this thing come down. What if the grounders get to it first? We should go now.” I said, trying to convince him.

“I said we should wait until sunrise.” He snapped back. And so we did, well until Finn and Clark walked in looking for Bellamy. He wasn’t there,

“This isn’t your fault Xephyr.” Finn said, trying to catch up with me.

“I should’ve known he’d go for that radio.” I shook my head

“How are you supposed to know something like that?” Clarke asked.

“Because he spent every single minute since we’ve landed making sure no one on the ark finds out we”re alive.” Clarke picked up a dagger as I raised my voice.

“That doesn’t meN you can predict what people are gonna do.” Finn tried to calm me down.

“That’s exactly what I have to do.” I snapped at him. “I screwed up, let myself get distracted.”

We went running towards the lake, as fast as we could. Once we got there I opened the pods door. 

“Raven?” I sighed.

“Hi…. I made it?” She asked with a slight smile. 

“Yeah.” She stepped out of the pod and soaked in the air.

“I dreamed it would smell like this. Is this rain?” She asked.

“Welcome home.” Clarke smiled at her. 

“Raven!” Finn called out. She ran to him.

“I knew you couldn’t be dead” she held him. They kissed and Clarke’s face dropped.

“How did you get here?” I asked.

“You know that big scrap hold on the deck?”

“You built that from scrap?” I said shocked

“I kinda rebuilt it.” She shrugged.

“Damn I knew you were good, for a mechanic.” I joked.  

“Just needed a couple parts and some love,” she became dizzy.

“Sit down.” Finn sat her down on the rock. “This is Clarke, she was on the drop ship.”

“Clarke? This is all because of your mom. This was all her plan, we were trying to come down together. If we waited… oh my god. We couldn’t wait because the council was voting whether to kill 300 people to save air.” 

“When?” I asked.

“Today.” She said grimly. “We have to tell them you're alive.” She ran to the pod. “The radio’s gone. Must’ve gotten loose on reentry, i should’ve strapped it to the a-strut. Stupid!” She yelled.

“No, no. This is my fault. Someone got here before us. We have to find him.” I ran into the woods looking for Bellamy.

“Hey! Where is it!” I yelled at him.

“Hey sparky, you taking a walk in the woods?” He sassed me.

“They’re getting ready to kill 300 people up there. To save oxygen! And I can guarantee it won’t be council members. It’ll be working people. Your people.” I yelled at him

“Bellamy!” Finn shoved him. “Where’s thé radio?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bellamy shoved him back.

“Bellamy Blake?” Raven asked. “They’re looking everywhere for you.” 

“Shut up.” He shot her an evil look.

“Looking for him, why?” Clarke asked. 

“He shot Chancellor Jaha.” She informés us.

“That’s why you took the wristbands! Needed everyone to think we were dead. And all that “whatever the hell we want”? Was just to save your own skin.” I screamed and pushed him. He began to walk away.

“Hey! Shooter! Where’s my radio?” Raven ran up to him.

“Get out of my way.” He said coldly.

“Where is it?” She persisted.

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” 

“Really? Well I’m right here.” He grabbed her and shoved her against a tree. 

“Bellamy!” I yelled but raven pulled out a switchblade before any of us could do anything.

“Where’s my radio?” She asked again. He let her go.

“Jaha, deserves to die, we all know that.” He said walking away.

“Yeah, he’s not my favourite person either!” She shouted, “but he isn’t dead.” 

“What?” He turned around.

“You're a lousy shot.” She scoffed.

“Bellamy, don’t you see what this means?” I walked up to him. “Your not a murderer.” I looked into his chocolate brown eyes, “you always did what you had to do to protect your sister. That! Is who you are. And you can do it again, by protecting 300 of your people. Where’s the radio?” 

“It’s too late.” His eyes looked as sweet as the colour they were. “Threw it in the river.” He sighed.  

“Show is where. Please.” I begged. He nodded his head and led us to where he threw it. 

“Hey! I found it!” Jones called out. He handed me the radio.

“Can you fix it?” Clarke looked at me with pleading eyes. 

“Maybe. But it’ll take half a day just to dry out the component to see what’s broken.” I sighed, shaking my head.

“Like I said, it’s too late.” Bellamy added.

“Let me kick him in the groyne.” I whispered. Clarke shook her head. 

“Do you have any idea what you did? Do you even care?” She got up in his face.

“You asked me to help. I helped.” He said with a dry tone.

“300 people are gonna die today because of you!” She continued to go off.

“Hold up!” Raven called out. “We don’t have to talk to the ark, we just have to let them know we’re down here… right?” She asked..

“Yeah but how are we gonna do that with no radio?” Finn looked to the ground in sorrow.

Raven looked at me and smiled. I nodded my head. “Let’s get back to the pod.” I turned to them. 

“Okay! We need to launch those flairs ASAP. If we have any hope of saving those people,”I hollered, Finn, get the control panel back to camp, you, pull out those firing circuits in one piece or they won’t work.” 

“Clarke, can I have a hand?” Raven called her over. “Work these bolts here, gently, rocket fuel likes to go boom.” Raven then turned to me. “We’re gonna need power to fire.”

“They’re tying in the batteries on the drop ship. Should be ready when we get there.” I nodded.

“Great, so. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged. She gave me a look that said she knew I was lying. “Look if we get the rockets to launch, will they see them from the Ark?” 

“Like the good book says.” She smiled

“Yeah y’all that book is old, we haven’t had to do this before and-“

“Xephyr. Calm down. It’s all about burn time and cloud coverage right?” I nodded and walked away.

We got everything we needed and launched the flare. Purple streaks flew across the sky. Bellamy came up beside me. 

“You think they can see it from up there?” 

“I don’t know. I hope so. Can you wish upon this kind of shooting star?” I asked. He just looked at me. “Never mind. I-it’s…. it’s stupid.” 

“I wouldn’t even know what to wish for. He turned so his eyes looked into mine. “What about you?” I just looked at him, then I looked back at the purple in the sky. 

“Where do I begin?” I sighed.

[zivazivc]

Pinocchio AU

Okay people want the explanation for this comic so here it goes. It’s long and complicated and MESSED UP because of course it is, this is me. I’m going to write in points because my small tired brain can’t handle good english atm but basically to sum up the Adrien was a sentimonster theory or Pinocchio AU as I like to call it:

Young married Emilie and Gabriel can’t have kids. Gabriel reluctantly accepts this fate and even brings up adoption as a possibility once, but Emilie doesn’t want to hear any of that. She’s a bit of a Marinette in the sense that she pictures this romanticized ideal life for herself and a child—her flesh and blood—HAS to be in it.

They keep trying to get a baby while other young families Emilie knows keep growing. She feels left out and hurt and depressed, then her newlywed twin sister announces she’s expecting a baby too and something within Emilie just unhinges.

She eventually lies to some of her friends, who she was out for coffee with, that she’s pregnant too. She mostly does it just to see their reaction and feel what it would be like but it quickly spirals out of control where she just starts pretending she’s pregnant until you can’t even tell if she believes it herself.

Gabriel is confused at first because he hears the news second hand (a friend/family member congratulating him) so he’s apprehensive when he approaches his wife but she convinces him that they really are getting a baby and Gabriel is ecstatic.

It’s only later at a doctor’s check up that Gabriel learns that she indeed is not pregnant. The doctor even speaks to him alone explaining that his wife is in denial and that he should make sure she goes to see a psychiatrist, something she definitely wouldn’t do alone.

Gabriel is unsuccessful with that because he’s not entirely persistent, doesn’t want to be the guy with the crazy wife having to tell everyone she lied about being pregnant, and hopelessly believes she’ll just get over it eventually.

That is until her “pregnancy is near due”—her sister already had Félix in England a few months ago—and he stumbles on her transformed with her peacock miraculous (they already have both of them) creating a sentimonster newborn.

They have a huge fight about it but because Emilie refuses to destroy it, won’t tell Gabriel where the amok is, and Gabriel can’t just hurt the baby with his hands, Emilie just… wins. Fucked up, yeah?

Now she tried creating kids before this one, using her imagination to try and blend her and Gabriel’s looks but it just wasn’t working. So she decided to copy of photos of baby Félix because he already looked almost like a copy of his mother, and Amélie and Emilie already looked alike so it’s not so weird?—is what her mind was telling her.

She didn’t dare alter his looks but she decided to give the baby Gabriel’s eye color to include the “father” in some way. (Yes in that comic I made I gave Adrien a mix of green and gray but that was mainly to get the point across to the perceptive readers)

Now we got Adrien, a normal baby boy to the whole world except for Gabriel who’s forced into his wife’s fantasy through social expectations.

Why are we only at this point and this post is already so long AAAAAAAA!!!

Adrien physically basically grows in a way where Emilie just keeps changing his appearance to match what Félix looked like a few months prior.

Mentally he’s like a robot just taking in information without really needing to learn it. So Emilie decides when he says his first word, she decides when he learns to walk,… He knows how to walk, he just wasn’t given the command to do so yet.

But even so he does develop a personality over time, just slower, because unlike a normal child who’s always testing his boundaries, how far they’re allowed to go until they’re in real trouble, Adrien just can’t misbehave. At all.

But he does have his favorite foods and favorite toys, and jokes that make him laugh the most. The problem is just that Emilie could just decide that his favorite food is strawberries and he’d just start acting accordingly, rewiring his belief. 

He also isn’t allowed to argue or be mean to others which is why Félix thinks he’s a goody two-shoes weirdo while Chloé the brat adores him.

This behavior isn’t so hard to hide with a toddler who’s fickle but it���s harder and harder as the kid grows. Which is why the family becomes very secluded over time.

Gabriel always keeps distance with his “son”. He’s not Dad, he’s Father, he doesn’t do hugs and cuddles, he doesn’t say I love you. But Adrien knows he loves him because his mom told him so and he loves him back unconditionally because Mom said that’s what families do.

Now even though Gabriel is traumatized by this whole ordeal and knowing Adrien “isn’t real” freaks him out he does soften a bit over time. I’m going to give an awful example but like someone who hates cats softening for a cat that their partner/roommate decided to get/had from before. Continuing with this example: But still becoming appalled when the cat starts acting odd/unusually.

Okay I think you get the gist. Let’s move on…

Emilie loves her son more and more as he grows and his sentimonster behaviours start bothering her more and more too. She hates being reminded that he’s not a real boy by people mentioning he looks young for his age because Emilie forgot to make him grow for a while. She hates when he does everything like he’s told. She hates that he has no real friends because they’re afraid to expose him to the outside too much and without supervision. She hates to think about his future.

Her desire for him to be real keeps growing and is what drives her to search for a solution in the miraculous spellbook.

She cracks the script after years, when Adrien is nearly a teen, and finds a way to transfer the creators soul into a sentimonster.

It’s a long process that takes time and while she falls ill to everyone around her, Adrien becomes more real.

Gabriel starts realizing what’s happening when he notices Adrien hesitate for a second when he’s playing a video game and Gabriel wants him to do something, groan when he gets bothered watching TV, huff, complain, have slightly opposing opinions to his and Emilie’s, when he argues with his mother when she tells him she’s feeling fine; when he notices his son’s eyes are greener. Or is it all in his head?

He confronts his wife too late, when she’s extremely ill already, her normally vibrant eyes dulled match Adrien’s bluish gray, and he pieces together in his head what she’s doing.

Before Gabriel could properly think what to do to stop the love of his life from turning into a lifeless doll, in a fit of panic he tries to take her wedding band (where he knows Adrien’s amok is) to get rid of Adrien instead, but is unsuccessful in getting it off her so he snatches her peacock brooch instead (which she needs to complete the spell obvs) and breaks it. (Heyoo! broken peacock miraculous. things are coming together)

Because the spell was almost complete anyway it’s Emilie who falls unconscious. But she doesn’t disappear because she’s not a real sentimonster, she just becomes dormant like one.

This is the point in the story where Gabriel makes it seem like Emilie ran away or something like that—basically disappear. Now he’s living knowing he has an almost sentimonster wife in the basement, knowing he almost killed his son (or her), and having to care for a son that suddenly became much more alive, questioning, arguing, angry, screaming, not accepting, crying, grieving, staring at him with Emilie’s eyes.

Instead of becoming a real parent, Gabriel shuts him out.

Soon Adrien evolves desires for socializing, company, getting away from the suffocating home which eventually leads to him going to a public school.

He slowly starts to live life freely without the restrictions that were put around his thoughts.

Gabriel has an even stranger relationship with Adrien now because he still loves him in a way but also holds resentment toward him. But mostly he sees him as something valuable.

The show happens here…  And now finally we get to the comic…

Gabriel gets a hold of the ladybug and black cat miraculouses. (There’s no epic fight in his lair as you see there’s no Ladybug in the comic but that’s not really important)

What’s important is that Gabriel had deciphered the miraculous spellbook with the help of Emilie’s notes and had decided to use the unification’s “wish” power to awaken Emilie.

He’s aware he’ll need to sacrifice something for the wish to come true and he’s certain Adrien should be enough because the soul inside him is literally the one thing Emilie is missing.

✨Adrien (poor boy just lost his miraculous) is taken to Gabriel’s lair, where he finds out his father is Hawk Moth, sees his mother, learns he’s a sentimonster, and that he’s going to become a sacrifice ✨

Of course the last part is not what happens. It’s Gabriel who ends up being sacrificed.

I can’t decide if Gabriel ends up sacrificing himself because he changed his mind in the last moment while Adrien was screaming for him to stop, OR  because he didn’t love Adrien enough for him to be considered an equal exchange for his wife… O.O

But anyhow…

Emilie wakes up with Gabriel’s soul within her (hence the bluish gray eyes in the comic).

Adrien is traumatized for life.

This took me hours to write… I knew there was a reason why I didn’t want to do it. I hope I didn’t forget anything and my brain made sense of it all

Well there you have it, peeps. The Pinocchio AU. It’s as messed up as my sleep schedule. Good night. 

[writingwithcolor]

Desexualized Mammy & Strong Black Woman, too busy for “frivolous love”

“Alyse” (Anon Submission) asked:

My science fiction story includes a black woman (Talia) who raises two children that aren’t her own and takes on two young adults as apprentices. One of the children she is raises has Arabic background and was taken into her home upon his father’s death (his mother’s whereabouts are unknown). She was a close friend of his father and the closest thing he had to a relative. The second child has mixed French-Latinx background and was taken in after becoming shipwrecked with no means by which to contact her people. Talia was the first non-hostile individual she encountered and one of the few who would so openly embrace a stranger. Since Talia is Master Medic (the highest medical authority in her community) she is training two apprentices (think residency) and eventually mentors the second child as well. She was once married and passionately in love but lost her husband to illness. In this setting, some technology we take for granted is inaccessible and violence against their people is commonplace. Most have experienced sudden loss. This particular loss was the catalyst that drove Talia into medicine- a desire to protect her loved ones and prevent others from experiencing similar tragedy. She is usually kind (though businesslike) but sometimes succumbs to a frigid, furious depression when, despite all her knowledge and determination, she can’t save someone. 

I worry that her maternal association with the two children (one of whom is an outsider) mires her in the mammy trope. On top of that, she hasn’t pursued romance since the death of her husband. I’ve considered giving her a romantic subplot but there are already so many characters to keep track of. Furthermore, I just can’t see her engaging in the frivolous pursuits of new love when she’s dealing with kids, students, and an extremely taxing career. 

In terms of race and culture in this story, practically every character can trace their ancestry back to populations displaced through war. Even Talia’s second child was shipwrecked during a botched evacuation from a military science lab. The people who live here have been isolated for generations and no longer have a real concept of their ancestry. Cultures have blended, new religions have formed, and many of our familiar racial/ethnic issues are forgotten. However, new and different but equally toxic ones have replaced them. In this way, Talia’s blackness doesn’t carry the same associations in her world as it would in ours. However, readers may still make these associations. Do you see any issues with her character that I could amend? 

So! You have:

A highly educated Black-coded woman (the highest medical authority in the community)

She raises two kids alone 

She also looks after two apprentices

She is widowed (not sure the race of the husband, was he Black?)

Having experienced heartbreaking love, Talia's drive to look after, protect and save people through medicine is a great motivation for the way she is. Her experiencing depression and taking losses seriously is also very human and is dynamic characterization. 

However, such characterization with Black women is prone to brush across several tropes. You have a Black woman who gives and protects, but what does she get in return? Who cares for her? 

Prioritize your Black character’s happiness

"I’ve considered giving her a romantic subplot but there are already so many characters to keep track of. Furthermore, I just can’t see her engaging in the frivolous pursuits of new love when she’s dealing with kids, students, and an extremely taxing career." 

Priorities, priorities. Is love a frivolous pursuit in her eyes, or yours? Because I strongly disagree. You probably don't mean to but you, as the author, having an excuse to NOT give the Black woman romance is showing that you do not think she's worth being loved. TV viewers and stans who are uncomfortable when Black women characters have relationships find similar excuses to explain away not wanting BW in relationships.

"She's too strong and independent for a man/relationship" 

"I liked her better alone." 

"It'll take away from her character."

“A romance doesn’t feel right for her”

These sorts of statements above are grounded in racialized misogyny. 

Relationships do not lessen the woman.

Relationships does not lessen Black women. 

Love

Whether that love is romantic, familial, or friendship, it can come in many forms. Give Talia love. Because Black women characters deserve it! Either one or all! 

Let her have a loyal best friend, a cat, and a girlfriend. Because why not? And not to downplay the love of children to parents, but please provide her love beyond what she gets on a maternal level from the children she looks after. 

The stories that Black women are in today severely lack love for us, so why add to the narrative of Black women being all work and no play, and too [insert excuse here] to be loved? 

Of course, you didn't provide all the details from your story, but I'm not seeing much of a balance from the struggle. She is a caretaker, teacher, doctor (or doctor-like figure). 

Her position and background in itself is okay. It's the Strong Black Woman being presented with seemingly no commentary that strikes me. 

Where is her team to help balance the weight of the world? 

Who takes care of her when she's depressed from another loss? 

What does she get in return from taking an emotional and physical toll to heal her community? 

Do those around her recognize all she does for them and offer their friendship? 

When does she get to relax and turn off the need to be everything for everybody?

Fitting love into a book with many characters

There are many books with several characters to keep track of. People tend to manage. Also, I'm sure some of those characters are in and/or out of relationships. Even stories that couldn’t be classified as romances have relationships of some sort. It’s unrealistic to have a ton of characters and none of them be in relationship(s) of some sort. Not when there’s so many forms of it and many sexualities. 

Friends, frenemies, enemies, romance, affairs.. Relationships make stories (and life) interesting. By no means do I think adding these dynamics harm your tale. And what’s one more for a hard-working Black woman who sacrifices a lot and clearly deserves a shoulder to lean on? And, if you use an existing character to be that friend, family, or lover, then you won’t need to pencil in another character.

For romance specifically - I think a misconception when it comes to including romance in stories is that they have to somehow take over the story. Romance does not have to bombard the plot nor be described in lavish detail. Not every story is a romance and those sort of details aren’t everyone’s style or things they’re comfortable with. A sentence or two establishing relationships does not take away from the story.And how those relationships look and affections expressed will vary based on the characters, sexuality, etc.

Not every character needs to have a deep level of detail. 

“Katie and Lisa, a newly engaged couple, walked into the meeting.”

“Jack and Jamie are a married couple in their 40s.” 

“The two met in college. After two months of blissful courtship, they eloped, eager to start their happily ever afters. Twenty years together, they were still blissfully in love and never too far from one another.”

Sentences like the above are enough for some characters. You don’t always need to put in paragraphs worth of relationship-establishing details or plot. 

When it comes to the characters whose love you would like to highlight, at least a bit, you still don’t have to go over the top.

Use subtle details. 

“As soon as Talia’s back was turned, he gave her a longing look before shaking his head and getting back to the patient.”

“He squeezed her hand before taking hold of the stethoscope.”

“She kissed her wife goodbye before racing out the door.”

“You mean the world to me.” he had said, holding her face. Those words stayed with her all day, making her heavy load light as a sack of feathers.

“She soaked his shirt with her tears and he just held her tight, saying nothing, silently holding her together.”

As for Talia specifically…

Talia having the mindset you described, as love being frivolous and not a priority, is understandable knowing her background (I just don't agree with you as the creator using this as a means to keep her alone. Whether she’s romantically alone or without close friendships). She has lost so much, and continues to experience loss with patients. This can be extremely traumatizing. I gave some examples of being subtle, so perhaps that will help with the burden of feeling a thick subplot of romance doesn’t fit in your story. 

And as Talia doesn’t strike me as someone who would go looking for companionship, what if she stumbles upon it without trying? Is there someone on the medical team that can offer her friendship? Someone who admires her and feels the urge to care for her that she feels the same for, or has pushed feelings down for? What happens when she can’t hold those feelings down anymore?

Takeaway

Talia deserves healthy love, even if she doesn’t believe it or feel she has time for it. That love can come in any and many forms, not necessarily romantically required, although it is a plus. A struggle-ridden novel is balanced by love, support and rest for characters that hold the weight of the world. If you do not, evaluate why you want to write Black characters in these struggle roles without at least a social commentary. 

~Mod Colette

[nightowlwriting]

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.