#so idk I’m trying super hard to focus on myself and get me back to my happy rosie self

[shefromhouston]

Pretty on Purpose

HOW TO MAINTAIN A PRETTY AURA ON A BUDGET

beauty maintenance tips:

at home mani-pedi: having your nails done at a salon constantly can sometimes be hard to keep up with when you don’t have the budget for a 70-150$ set every 2 weeks, so pick up a at home acrylic set to do for yourself along with some cute nail polish for your toes💅🏽 I usually stick to a super cute but classic french manicure. KISS Salon Acrylic Nude set is so pretty + fits every skin tone! It retails for about 7 dollars + lasts for over a week! with great care they can stretched for two weeks.

kitchen face masks: im not crazy about DIY skincare because i do believe proper skin care products are specifically made to absorb into the skin, not just sit on top BUT i do understand running out of my favorite LUSH mask of magnaminty while i’m trying to save a coin or two can cause more stress pimples than my pretty face can afford. SO, a simple yet effective mask (+ only kitchen masks i’ll ever whip up) is my go-to. Try a mix of manuka honey (or any unfiltered RAW honey) and turmeric. That’s all, mix a small amount + apply to your skin for even tone and glowy skin. Also you can’t go wrong with a Aztec Healing Clay Mask, that’ll run you about 12 bucks.

style your natural hair: hair tends to be my BIGGEST beauty bill, so during times when i need save + my hair isn’t already in a style, i focus on styling my curls. Slick back buns + ponytails are my go-to. It’s simple, sleek, + super cute! If managing your natural hair is too much, braiding hair is about 5-8 $ per pack, this’ll be a great time to sit in front a mirror, prop up that laptop + find a good tutorial on easy braid styles. Learn how to do knotless braids on yourself or those super adorable North West chunky braids, building skill during this time could not only save you money but with practice, save you the hassle we all experience dealing with hairstylist.

body mist + perfume minis: idk about y’all but when i look + SMELL good, i feel good. Running out your favorite fragrances during a time when you don’t have the extra cash to re-up can be like losing an old and familiar friend, look up the notes in that fragrance + make your way to a department store like Marshall’s, Ross, TJ Maxx, Burlington, Walmart or Target + get a body mist or perfume dupe! Marshall’s + TJ Maxx usually carry a travel size of many lux perfumes. If you’re obsessed with Juicy Couture fragrances like me, they’re always at these places for super low prices too. Body mists with similar notes can give you a more affordable fragrance option too. To keep body mists scent lingering a little longer try to pick up a similar scented body oil. These options shouldn’t cost you more than 20$, unless your aiming for the perfume dupes or smaller sizes of your favorites, most of them are going for 20-40$ which is a lot more affordable than the 120+ dollars we spend on full size perfumes.

shop your own closet + make a wishlist: shopping sprees are my favorite past time, but saving money can put a quick halt to that hobby. So instead I tend to focus on what i already have, pick out my favorites + literally style them in as many ways as i can- this is also a great time to develop your styling skill, experiment with different pairings + what not. If you just enjoy being out shopping like myself, there is nothing wrong with window shopping for yourself, i call it ‘wishlist hunting’. Go out, get yourself a nice lil lunch, grab ice coffee or chai latte and hit up your favorite stores. There is no law against browsing! (lol but avoid luxury stores or boutique due to them most times having a policy against browsing) Anyways, browse your favorite stores + make note of your next pick ups once you’re able to. It’s like manifesting lol. It also gives you something to look forward to once you’re able to splurge so you won’t be frivolously spending once you get extra coin.

mental health maintenance:

to be transparent, being in tight spot financially can sometimes cause me to worry + feel stressed, even if i’m able to manage all my bills + food. Not having extra money to do the things i want, the way i want can be depressing. My mental + emotional well-being is more important to me than just looking pretty, i want to feel that way too. Being pretty also means my thoughts aren’t against me, especially about things out of my control. Being pretty means that i’m in high energy, not only to be kind to others but kind to myself. Ive been dealing with chronic depression + anxiety since i was 14, so maintaining the things that bring me joy + comfort me is prioritized during times of worry or stress. Being pretty isn’t just about my nails + hair staying done, being pretty is knowing i’m in a safe space with myself so i wont act out in ugly ways. A lot of people don’t acknowledge how managing finances can add to stress + sadness, why should i allow myself to be angry and anxious? that’s ugly to me. Therapy isn’t always accessible or affordable, so journaling is my go-to until i’m able to access professional mental health services. A super cute girls and thems night in is great for the heart, vent it out with your closest friends. Volunteering is free! it’s a great way to give back during a time when you may not have the funds to and gets you out of your mind about things out of your control. Donate or sell some old clothes to help other itgrls on a budget be pretty on purpose. Something about seeing other people appreciate things you don’t show enough love to anymore is good for the conscious.

remember, there is no one in this universe who can be you better than yourself and who you are should not depend on how much or how little you have at any given moment.

xoxo, itgrl Pier

[justamessedupdisneyprincess]

TW VENT

TW D*ATH THREATS, S*ICIDAL THOUGHTS, TRAUMA AND ABUSE

I JUST FEEL I NEED TO GET THIS OUT BEFORE GOING OFFLINE

Alright so…I think I am gonna go offline again for another long while, go back into hibernation. I was feeling good at first being back but I can’t help but feel anxious atm. Nothing bad happened to me (surprisingly), but I can’t help but always worry if I may somehow make a fool of myself or mess things up again. I actually did find out whilst scrolling through old onward posts that some of the girls who gave me a hard time had deactivated their accounts. I feel a bit safer in that regard. But it just sort of feels too good to be true you know? I can’t help but feel like there’s a danger looming somewhere.

Idk if it’s just my anxiety, trauma or if my gut is telling me something.

Before I go I just wanna say a few things. Thanks for showing me some support. I know I am not perfect, I am far from it. I have a horrible habit of overanalysing things and getting worked up for little to no reason. For that I am sorry and I am so so so sorry if I ever made any of you worry or even hurt any of you if I ever have any of my bad panic attacks. I have a terrible anxiety disorder, I am not using it as an excuse but just to try and explain myself. I am doing my best to get better and have finally found some therapy and new medication to help.

However I will say there have been times where my meltdowns were necessary, such as when I got called horrible names and got d*ath threats and saw posts with rumours about me or posts calling me “A disgusting freak who should get fucked.”. I think those ones are worthy of crying over because honestly who wouldn’t, anxiety or not? You would have to be inhumanly strong to feel nothing when dealing with all that.

I have a lot of trauma, even before the few mean girls on tumblr in the Onward fandom. I had been stuck in an abusive platonic relationship for a year and the falling out was rough. She got super vengeful and almost destroyed my life in ways I won’t get into. I had people I looked up too suddenly gaslight me and make fun of a scared teenage me who was seeking help when I felt suicidal. Literally an ENTITE fandom harassed me nonstop. I selfshipped with another character before but a lot of people were angry at me for that. They were so obsessed with their own ships that they saw me as something of an eyesore getting in the way of the ships they like, so they bully me for self shipping with him. Some even tried to manipulate me into self shipping with another character who I had no feelings for and giving up on my fictional ex so he can be shipped with another canon character. My abusive friend tried to do that with me and far worse constantly. The onward fandom actually really supported my self ship for the most part. I have nothing to do with that old fandom anymore but it did turn up on my dash and it was more of the same sort of old chaotic drama. It is literally the most toxic fandom on the fucking planet and it destroyed my love for that show. Hell, I even started blocking any blog related to it I see just to help myself feel safer! Part of why I did deactivate my old DA account was because I wanted to get away from all that. I did have a few fans who wanted me to keep drawing for it but I got threats almost daily as well. I wanted to focus on Onward but many didn’t exactly respect that. There was a lot more to why I deactivated but that’s the gist of it.

I won’t get into more details but you can probably understand where I’m coming from with all this. Trauma and an anxiety disorder don’t mix well AT ALL!

If I had to guess I think that is why I am still so fearful of being online. I fear something will go wrong. Either if it’s another bully or if I make another mistake.

I want to apologise to anyone if I have been annoying, stupid or anything like that. I am doing my best to recover and learn to cope with my mental health bit by bit. I just hope you can understand, forgive me and enjoy your life.

I am still drawing and writing as much as I can while offline. So when I do eventually come back it’s gonna be like an explosive of content from me LOL

I kinda feel like it helps too, it’s so it’s not like “when’s the next part coming, when’s the next part coming?” If I already have the next part ready and in the works. Idk, I’m just trying to figure out how to share my artwork while still managing my mental health.

Sorry for randomly venting, I just really really feel I needed to get it out there desperately. Again, thanks so much for showing me support!

I am definitely fucked up in the head but I am doing my best to move forward, it’s just kind of slow is all but it’s better than nothing right?

[enbyleighlines]

Damn I had a long, rough weekend.

(exasperated ramblings under the cut)

Actually, it started before the weekend.

I recently switched insurances because I now make too much for medicaid, a process that took several months because why not?

But finally I had insurance and I could go see my doctor, yay me!

They upped my dosage of zoloft, because I’ve been super irritable lately and I think it’s mostly burnout from work, but it had been a long time since my dosage had been adjusted, so I thought it probably wouldn’t hurt.

I start taking a higher dosage, work still sucks, but I feel a bit better, so yay.

Then a few days later, I get a letter from my insurance saying that they will not pay for my zoloft, because it’s not on their list, and I will have to find a different anti-anxiety medication.

My doctors receive a similar letter and message me, asking me to schedule a time for another apt so that we can work on that.

Fuck that, I do not want to go through the emotional turmoil of trying a different anti-anxiety med. It took a long time for me to find one that works for me, and I don’t want to go thru that process again, esp with all the stressors currently in my life.

So I tell them, pls just let me stay on this for now, I will pay out of pocket, I don’t have the time or energy for this at this moment.

Flash forward, and it’s time for me to get a refill of zoloft. I’ve already been paying for it out of pocket for those months I didn’t have health insurance, so I knew it was gonna be costly, but I think it’s worth it. I ask my doctors for a refill, as per usual.

That was on Thursday.

Unfortunately, due to my adhd brain, I forget to go grab my prescription from the pharmacy. But that’s okay. I can go one day without zoloft. I’ve done it before.

But by the end of Friday, I knew I needed to pick up my prescription. I don’t want to go two days without zoloft, or else I start to feel funky: brain zaps, headache, nausea, etc. And of course there’s the anxiety and depression coming back, stronger than ever.

So I remember to go to the pharmacy on Friday afternoon, after work.

Except… they don’t have my prescription.

I call the on-call doctor, and ask them what happened to my zoloft.

They say they sent it to hannahfords.

I’m at cvs.

I haven’t used the pharmacy at hannahfords in the past 4 years, because I moved, and now cvs is closer.

Weird, but fine.

I could go to hannahfords, but I would have to take the bus, and it’s raining super hard, and I don’t want to walk from the bus stop to hannahfords in the pouring rain.

I ask cvs if they can transfer my prescription. They say sure but not right now. We can do it tomorrow.

Alright, well that’s fine. I can pick up my meds in the morning, and then I will still have only skipped one day. No biggie. Feeling relieved, I head on home.

The next morning, I return to cvs.

They say it’s too early, they just opened. They can transfer my prescription later in the day. They will call me when it’s done.

Alright. So it looks like I might be skipping another day of my meds. It sucks, but okay.

The hours go by. I don’t get a call. I focus on drawing and watching anime, and I try not to think about it.

The evening finally comes. My head is starting to hurt a little bit.

I get a call.

Good news: cvs successfully transferred the prescription.

Bad news: they are out of stock of my medication and will need to have it shipped in. It may take a couple of days.

I can’t wait two more days.

I have a panic attack.

I calm down. I tell myself I can go to cvs tomorrow and see if they can help. Maybe they have some zoloft in the back? Idk, I just need enough to tide me over until the shipment, and I’m desperate.

I go to cvs. I tell them my predicament. They are sympathetic but their hands are tied. They have no zoloft. They tell me to maybe check another pharmacy. Except it’s Sunday, so the closest pharmacy that’s actually open is…

Hannahfords.

Well, okay. It’s a beautiful day, no rain, so I don’t mind taking the trip.

I get to hannahfords. I say hey can you please transfer my prescription back here so I can have my medicine.

They say, sorry. They’re out of stock, too.

They’re also all out of zoloft???

Except, no. The woman at the desk explains they have plenty of the 100mg tablets in stock.

I say great, I take 2 of those a day, per my doctor’s instructions.

But that’s not what is on my prescription this time.

The prescription my doctor wrote says to take 1 200mg tablet a day. And yes, that amounts to the same, the woman explains, but because your prescription asks for the 200mg tablets, I can’t give you the 100mg ones.

I can order the 200mg tablets for you, she tells me. It will take a couple of days.

Now that’s just infuriating.

I ask her, please, is there any way I can get my zoloft sooner?

She tells me I can call the on-call doctor and have them change the prescription from 1 200mg tablet a day to 2 100mg tablets a day.

So I do.

And finally, finally, on 2pm on Sunday afternoon, I get my medication.

God fucking dammit.

Why was all of that so complicated???

[jess-abides]

Vacation body thoughts below the cut (I should really just journal lol)

The last time I went on vacation in April, I was the biggest I’ve ever been. I wore my bikinis and was trying really hard to rock with body neutrality and tbh I was in a decent place with it. But I was super uncomfortable on the plane, and it was probably the most unpleasant travel experience that I can remember.

While I was on that trip, I started wanting to exercise…like idk why but I remember thinking “I want to start doing squats when I get home” lol and I got on the peloton the day after I got home and rode every day for like 2-3 weeks while I convinced my trainer friend to coach me after I realized he offered virtual sessions. I don’t know what changed, but something flipped basically overnight - when we first got started, I told my trainer “I’m really good at starting over, but I really want this to be the last time” and tbh it still feels like it could be.

I haven’t missed a single planned/scheduled workout since the day I got back from that trip, and I’ve enjoyed the process so much more this time around because it came from a place of actually just wanting to exercise (as opposed to my typical pattern of ‘hate self > must be smaller > deserve punishment > must eat less and move more’).

I also very intentionally did not diet at all, because I still have to work very hard at not spiraling when I try to ~get healthy~ and I am sick to death of dieting and burning out and being afraid of food and the scale.

So I decided to just focus on the one thing I was excited about, which was getting stronger. Which naturally led me to make some different food choices based on what my body was craving (and plenty of well-intentioned bullying from my coach when I wasn’t eating enough). I’ve just been having so much fun getting stronger that it started to feel like a shame not to at least try to get enough protein to actually let my muscles recover and grow.

So I headed off on this vacation 30 pounds lighter than the last, inches gone from my waist, hips, thighs, wedged comfortably into the middle seat between two strangers and not silently apologizing for my existence. Happier, stronger, more confident. A little nervous to get out of my routine, tbh, but I could also really tell my body could use a break.

And, for once, not at all worried about my diet or whether I’d gain weight; knowing I’ve been learning to trust myself and basically eating whatever I wanted anyway. I enjoyed good seafood and good ice cream, but never felt like I needed to over-indulge or overcompensate for indulging. I went for long walks on the beach because I wanted to, and sat on the porch when I decided I’d rather do that instead.

Out of sheer curiosity, I weighed myself this afternoon (something I would never have done in the past - early morning only, iykyk). And wouldn’t you know it? I weigh the same as the day I left. The number itself isn’t the victory - I would have been fine with being up a few because bodies will be bodies, and I guess that’s really what I’m proud of!

And I’m looking forward to being back on my bullshit tomorrow morning and seeing how this break plays out in my workouts this week. After I sleep A LOT tonight 😌

[strwberri-milk]

What are some inspirations for your writing? And what resources would you suggest for new writers? (Ex: YouTubers, blogs, books, etc.)

P.S. I’m not exactly sure if you answer questions such like these, but if you do not, then you do not need to answer this or can clarify that because I haven’t seen you post stuff like this or post any rules on not asking questions(?).

And btw, I love your writing and I hope you have a good dayyy! 💖

i love when people ask me about me bc it makes me so happy to exist in peoples mind i just want to be Thought about i love answering questions about myself/my interests!! when i ws fourteen i wrote a whole fuckjing masterlist on how to write but its no longer releveant LMAOOo also i yap so much so this is all under a cut LMAOO

tldr: i totally suggest 1) listen to music you dont mind zoning out to 2) read a variety of books to develop style/voice 3) write things you want!! if youre intrigued/intersted by smth it makes it a lot better!!

also pls for the love of god use paragraph breaks istg i refuse to read anything that is One paragraph long. a smaller ick of mine is the refusal to pargraph break after dialouge bc idk it just makes me :( but its not that bad overall lolol

tbh the only thing i recc for new writers is reading!! im a strong believer that if youre a strong reader you can become a strong writer!! i wanna get back into traditionally published books/classics but the issue w doing an engl [literature] degree is i was reading ballparck 15-20 books/semester and it just got so exhausting that i struggle to get back into traditional publishing but im trying to get into it!!

if youre like jsut getting into reading i think starting at middle grade books is good bc theyve got a good variety and easy readability so theyre like. not as daunting. and also!! variety is so great!! i have REALLY strong opinions about some currently published authors but also ive never been really someone who's super into reading books bc its by a specific author bc i think you can accidentally end up trapped too bc authors have their quirks and its like. you might end up only writing in that fashion bc thats all youre reading so variety is good to diversify and find what you enjoy about writing!!

me personally i really like flowery words and descrptions!! i wanna evoke emotions and trigger associations through sentenes that are *just* long enough and evoke longing!! or horror!! i tend to gravitate towards fantasty/romance/psycohological horror/mystery so those are the books ive been reading in the last ten years but before that i stanned warrior cats and historical fiction so hard. more recently though i read exclusively xreaders sorry guys i need my escapisim but!! i definitely think bridgerton Changed something in me so i think i pulled some of my writing voice from there too!!

also!! music is a big part of my writing process - when i really wanna focus on put on more lowkey music - oohyo is a big reference for the general vibe when im listening to music to write. rn im going to be listening to a lot of hit me hard and soft bc that album (billie eilish) is a sound that i like (kinda haunting, bouncy idk). lana del rey, k r&b or rock/power ballads as well if im feeling it (rn im going back to utsup/maretu/other vocarock prods) - music just helps me hone in when im trying to write thousands of words on top of each other lolol

[straycalamities]

Do you have any suggestions for someone new who wants to join camp weehawken or truffula flu? I wanted to create some Onceler to join the rps, but every idea I have has been done already

you don’t have to create a onceler to join either of those! there’s plenty of ocs (deloraxed or not) that are in both of them :3

but if you rly wanna do a onceler, i think it’s okay if your gimmick matches an existing onceler, especially if the blog is no longer active. like how many oncelers themed around being monsters or curses do u think exist?? so many. countless, but they're all kewl bc what matters is how you approach the character and give it your own twist! unless it’s something super specific, i don’t think anyone would mind if another idk retail onceler existed for example (thinking of retail bc i’m at work rn abloo bloo)

if this is your first time joining, i'd definitely try to pick something you're passionate about as a theme or set of personality traits! it'll keep you going and strong at the start of it all before the ball officially gets rolling.

also idk if you plan to do art or not but dont be discouraged if you dont! or if you dont think your art "is good enough"!!! some of the biggest oncelers in the fandom (swag and gent are the immediate first to come to mind) had mods who didnt draw for their posts and they still were well received! what matters is how much the concept means to YOU and how much passion you put into it. and ultimately: what matters most is if you have fun with it! :3

so like if something isnt' fun anymore. change it! or dump it and start over! it's okay!

and if you do draw, just..draw...like idk maybe its just a me thing, but i sabotage myself hard if i focus too much on my askblog/rp art being like...good lmao. i just get it out there. what matters is im enhancing the scene/perspective/emotions of what im doing and adding to it so it can be as quick as a doodle, or something fully rendered that took me hours, what matters is that i dont get too hung up on how "good" it is and if it IS something that takes longer, that it's not making me miserable to work on it. if it is? fuck it, we doodle.

also, put yourself out there! approach people with ideas or whathaveyou. test the waters to see where the chemistry lies and if those characters' mods would wanna plot w you! or even just do one-shots to see have some fun/see where things go. the worst favor u can do urself is to sit there and like...stew in fomo and let shyness/fear/whatever hold you back. and if you dont have ideas or dont get any hits back, focus on your own plot for awhile, let ppl see your character in action, it might spur some inspo

idk if that stuff was what u were looking for but its stuff i generally recommend to anyone wanting to start rping and/or askblogging in the fandom (and everyone reading this totally should if u dont already)

[bvannn]

Weekly Update February 9, 2024

The sick has returned. I took my medicine for it this morning but so far it doesn’t seem like it’s gone away, but admittedly my symptoms today could be the result of me having a bad day and it being cold outside, and not necessarily the sick. That’s also why I’m posting this update earlier than usual. If it persists tomorrow I’ll know it’s more surgery side effects, and maybe I’ll message my doctor if it stays throughout the week again. Last week went pretty well so I want to assume this week being messed up was just a fluke. I still got some stuff done, though.

I got a bunch of drawings done, most of them epithet erased and fanart rather than OCs but that’s fine. Fwiw I did get a few more comic pages done, though not one a day like I was hoping. I’ll try another tonight, maybe more if I’m in a good mood. I’m also starting to listen to more music, which should hopefully get inspiration flowing a bit better so I can do more OC art as well.

I still got an animation shaped void I need to fill but haven’t figured out what to do yet. I’d like to try something to music but I gotta get a song done first. So I’ve been trying to work on music but I’ve been so scatterbrained that it’s a bit hard. I’m hoping this weekend I’ll have time, but good chance I’ll try to spend it keeping my mood high instead. I guess I could do some OC animation tests, figure out how clip studio animation works too. Maybe.

Music: been toying with some slow ambient instrumental stuff, and that bigger edm one with the piano I posted a sample of a while ago. Turns out EDM is super easy, so if I can find reasons to keep doing it I will, although admittedly I’m not as big on it as I am on other genres. I’m close to done on that EDM one, partially because it’s supposed to be kinda short. I haven’t touched lyric stuff, I might have to soon though since my congenial medical bs is flaring up again too, and lyrics are luckily something I can do while bedridden. Idk I like how the instrumental is going.

I redid that melody I posted the other day for the ambient track, admittedly didn’t change much but I swapped the third measure out, dropped a few notes, and actually tried it on a lower bpm and with some reverb because I forgot to do that for the samples I posted (whoops), and it sounds fine. I need some other parts for that one still, maybe I’ll use placeholders and just figure out the rest of the instrumentation bc I got that half finished.

Haven’t touched vocaloid again yet. Maybe I’ll make some quick demos so I can understand how tuning works. I’ll probably pick a memey or old song and if I make anything presentable I’ll post it.

Been looking for more VSTs too, I compare it to looking for new brushes whenever you’re dissatisfied with your art. Vital has been good for EDM, basically fixed all my problems for me, again. Also started messing with decentsampler again and it’s probably going to fix my problems when I’m working on that ambient track.

I think this weekend and next week I’ll aim to get some time with the big fancy keyboard and just unload a bunch of recording at once. Force myself to finish shit. Tonight I’d like to as well, but that depends on how bad my homework ends up. And if I get flare ups again. I’m still working on dealing with that condition but I need two or three more surgeries before it’s really going to be gone. And I have to wait for those. I’m not worried about money for now since I’m pretty sure I can get a decent job after I graduate (and at a minimum I can go back to the job I had last summer which I liked and paid pretty well). Right now I don’t have a source of income but I think I’ll be fine, I just need to not spend money, which I’m pretty good at. Next week I’ll focus on music stuff first, throw in some drawings if I can, and keep at those comic thumbnails. Once those are done I’ll start on pages.

[lucysweatslove]

General life/school/personal updates. Under a readmore because some touchy subjects.

I finished my second term of med school on Friday!! Very pleased it’s over. I stand by what I’ve said early on- med school has a funny way of taking something you are actually interested in and turning it soooo dry and boring that you’d be happy to never see it again. Material comes at you so fast. I can keep up with what they’re asking, but I can’t deep dive into every topic or subject the way I’d like to. This makes it super boring for me.

I’m a horrible student. Like, I’m doing better than average, so I’m not a horrible student in that regard, but I’m putting forth very little effort. I think this block, I averaged maybe 3 hrs/week outside of the required class sessions. I feel like this comes across as bragging, which I don’t mean to do… talking about it at all feels like there’s now way to win. People get upset when you lie about it (eg act like you’re studying more than you really are), but they also get upset when you’re honest? Idk.

Which also, school in general… so there are focus issues happening (I was unmedicated for a while), and I’ve been having more sensory issues, too. Like needing sunglasses in class, having trouble because everybody is so loud but if I put in earplugs I can’t hear relevant material… People know I’m autistic, and they will see me use tools to accommodate myself. But they won’t actually accommodate me, outside of when I sometimes ask for lights to be turned down during some discussions or lectures (and then proceed to laugh when I visibly jolt and cover my eyes when the lights are turned back on without warning). It’s hard to tell people to turn their voices down twenty notches. It’s easier to just remove myself from the situation entirely. And tbh, I don’t know that I feel safe with my classmates in general. Not that my physical safety is ever in question (I know so many across the world are in physical danger), but that I don’t feel like I belong, that I’m respected, valued, and wanted. It’s lonely and isolating.

I’m also having some body issues as of late. I haven’t been to the gym since school started, which is mostly just because of timing issues. I’ve put on a little more weight, and while that’s not USUALLY a problem, I’m having a hard time navigating it again. When I’m in class or doing something clinical, I’m very aware that I’m being perceived. It’s not just me- it’s my body. Im seen first and foremost as a body with a gender. Im a feminine person, always identified as a woman by others, but my body is fat in a not socially accepted way. The only way to have my body be more socially accepted is to play into the femininity, which I don’t mind in and of itself, but others see femininity as a mark of womanhood rather than just being a general aesthetic… so when I play into femininity to avoid being treated as poorly, im even more gendered. If I try doing anything/dressing more masculine, it doesn’t “cancel out” into neutral. It adds- a slightly more masculine fat woman, still very far from hat “ideas.” Honestly it hasn’t been terrible just performing womanhood, but I miss the days where I was “kid in the pink jacket” and not “fat woman” with all these judgments.

So anyway, I want to start working out again because I know it’s better for my health, but I would be lying if I said I also didn’t desperately wish I had my old body back that was just feminine enough to play into it when I wanted but mostly wasn’t seen as anything major by anybody. The body I had when people just saw my ideas and mind and not a gender or a body shape. When I didn’t have to play into a gender to have my body accepted by society…

Which means that if i did start going back to the gym, my brain will start linking automatically and there is a high chance that i will be using gym not to be healthier but to influence my body which can easily devolve into exercise purging and disordered eating.

Honestly, sometimes I wonder if this is how some alcoholics feel. Any small amount of diet-y behavior, like even a sip of alcohol, can trigger relapse. But even non-dieting “diet adjacent” behaviors can do it too. Anything tangentially related could trigger it. Going back the gym, while not inherently dangerous for most people, is so heavily associated with body control, weight loss, calorie counting, exercise purging, etc, that my mind can easily jump back into ED land when I engage in it.

So… yeah. A lot to think about lately. Glad I have a couple weeks off school at least.

[shadowbends]

I posted 5,560 times in 2022

That's 2,468 more posts than 2021!

21 posts created (0%)

5,539 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@somescribblybits

@dontron-9000

@number5theboy

@camlations

@onaishi

I tagged 5,559 of my posts in 2022

#rottmnt - 1,905 posts

#leonardo - 1,067 posts

#donatello - 990 posts

#umbrella academy - 894 posts

#michelangelo - 851 posts

#i laughed - 818 posts

#raphael - 804 posts

#asdfghjkl - 571 posts

#five - 431 posts

#klaus - 282 posts

Longest Tag: 82 characters

#i’d bet $10 rise!april taught the boys how to do doughnuts in an empty parking lot

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I looked at my notifs, and one of my favorite ROTTMNT fanfic writers visited my blog??? The stars in my eyes you would not believe, screams—

11 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

#4

I don’t know if it’s turtles having me feeling nostalgic, but I’ve had such an itch to get involved in fandom lately. I’m not much of an artist, and I don’t feel quite brave enough to try my hand at fic again. Gosh, it has be over twelve years since the last time I wrote, and I’m just too rusty. 

The ROTTMNT fandom is super cute, though. I’m deeply enjoying all the fic and art and other creative fan content that crosses my path, and the fans seem very friendly. 

It makes me want to contribute too, even if it’s just in a small way. In line with that, I’m thinking of putting together a fic rec list? Just not sure how I want to go about doing it yet, I’m tossing around several ideas ranging from a simple list to... something a bit more ambitious. We’ll see how it goes.

Idk, though. It’s so funny to me that once again turtles have me feeling like this. I’ve dabbled here and there in other fandoms, but the only one I was actually ever a part of was the 2k3 TMNT series from back in the day. So it’s just kind of serendipitous that ROTTMNT would be the one to make me feel this way again. 

20 notes - Posted October 20, 2022

#3

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS)

Hello again, cultured turtle fans! Do you enjoy good fanfic? Hopefully so, because I’m back with more recs! Whether you’re new to the fandom and diving into the ROTTMNT fic scene for the first time, or a veteran looking for content you might have missed, my hope for this project is to point you to something you’ll enjoy!

This rec list is the second of three and focuses on short stories in the fandom, with a length between 5,000 and 15,000 words each. Much like a stuffed crust pizza, they’re the perfect option when you’re feeling for something indulgent, but don’t want to go all out. If you want to browse a little more though, feel free to check out the other lists below!

NEW YORK STYLE, BABY!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (UNDER 5,000 WORDS)

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS) — You’re here!

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS)

If you enjoy any of these fics, make sure to reblog and spread the love! Don’t forget to check out the other works by these authors; many of them have written multiple wonderful stories not featured here that are just as good. Additionally, consider leaving the authors a comment! I’m not always the best at that myself, but fic writers work hard and deserve all the love in the world.

Now, let’s get to the recs. Bon appétit!

➤ ➤ ➤ PRE-SERIES

The Corner Store by KicsterAsh

12,790 words, 5/5 chapters

Character Focus: Raphael & his brothers, w/ Splinter coming in later

Genre: Fluff, Adventure

“I know what I’m spending my three dollars on,” Raph said. He and Donnie dragged Leo to the machine, which was near the front desk of the store, and sat him down against the wall. “Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep,” Raph said to his other siblings, before rushing to the front desk.

The man, who had been watching them since they dragged Leo into view, looked at the turtle as he ran over. Raph tried ignoring that he noticed this and only looked back once he had reached the counter, where his chin just reached over the top.

“Hello, Mister,” Raph said as politely as he could in his urgency. “How much is a small cup of hot chocolate?”

The man pushed up his glasses and looked at the machine. “It’s two dollars and seventy-five cents after tax,” he said.

“I dunno what tax is, but here.” Raph slapped three dollars down on the counter and then pointed at the machine. “Can you show me how to pour one, please? I’ve never done it before.”

I have such a soft spot for this fic; it was one of the first I ever read for the fandom, and it has the perfect blend of adorable turtle tot hijinks with just enough risk involved to make you concerned and keep the story gripping. To summarize the premise: Splinter lets the boys play topside in the snow while he scavenges for food and supplies, but is gone longer than anticipated. As the hours pass and the temperature drops, a young Raphael decides to break the rules and seek out human shelter to keep his brothers from freezing. All of the turtles’ budding personalities shine through in this story, but good older brother Raph is especially a treat here.

Lost and Found (Family) by ashtreelane

7,007 words, 2/2 chapters

Character Focus: April & Michelangelo, April & The Family

Genre: Fluff, Adventure

"Wow!" April says, her eyes wide with fascination. "Are you some sort of…turtle alien?"

"Yeah! Well- not the alien part, but I am a turtle!“

"So how can you talk?" April asks, leaning in to peek into Mikey's head hole. Her voice echoes slightly in the shell.

"Cause I'm not allllll turtle, duh!" Mikey says, smiling. "Our dad doesn't really like to talk about it, but he says that we’re the product of parental love and ‘unholy sorcery’!

"Oh wow! That’s way more interesting than how I got born!"

After being left behind on a field trip and struggling to find a way home, a young April finds someone just as lost as herself. A charming little story that tells how April met the turtles for the first time.

responsibility by TheWhitesOfYourEyes

See the full post

101 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

#2

New York Style, Baby!! ROTTMNT Fanfic Recs (under 5,000 words)

Greetings, dudes and dudettes, and anyone in between! Do you enjoy good fanfic? Well, then you’ve come to the right place! As something of a collector of fics, I welcome you to peruse the many links below. Whether you’re new to the fandom and diving into the ROTTMNT fic scene for the first time, or a veteran looking for content you might have missed, my hope for this project is to point you to something you’ll enjoy!

This rec list is the first of three and focuses on ficlets in the fandom, with every one clocking in under 5,000 words. As such, all of them are also complete. Think of these as the New York Style pizza of fanfics: thin, but cheesy goodness that’s pre-sliced and ready to go when you have a killer craving, but no time to sit down. If you want to browse a little more though, feel free to check out the other lists below!

NEW YORK STYLE, BABY!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (UNDER 5,000 WORDS) — You’re here!

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS)

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS)

If you enjoy any of these fics, make sure to reblog and spread the love! Don’t forget to check out the other works by these authors; many of them have written multiple wonderful stories not featured here that are just as good. Additionally, consider leaving the authors a comment! I’m not always the best at that myself, but fic writers work hard and deserve all the love in the world.

With that said, sit back, relax, and let’s grab a slice!

➤ ➤ ➤ PRE-SERIES

An Act of Yokai Kindness by BiographyDivider

2,834 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Splinter & The Boys

Genre: Fluff, Angst

“Okay, boys,” Lou Jistu said, kneeling down to look his gaggle of sons in the face. “What are our Topside Rules?”

“Hats on all the time,” Blue said, pulling his beanie down a little further.

“Or hoods,” Purple chimed in, scowling at his brother for forgetting that he liked a big hood, not a tight hat. Lou nodded.

“And jackets buttoned up too, right? To your chinny-chin-chins?”

A darling little fic about Splinter taking the boys on a trip to the local library—what might be their last trip, as it’s become increasingly difficult to pass them off as human. Features both Turtle Tot goodness and some absolutely on-point Splinter characterization, and is just all around wholesome. 

Coming of Age, Coming to Terms by Drifting_Andromeda

4,018 words, 1/1 chapter

Character Focus: Leonardo & Splinter, Ensemble

Genre: Family Bonding, Fluff

“Huh.” Was all he said, which made Splinter chuckle.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting.” The rat admitted.

“Really? What were you expecting?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe some more denial? I was definitely in denial when I first realized I was attracted to men.”

Leonardo realizes something about himself on his 12th birthday, but struggles putting those feelings to words. Thankfully, his dad is there to both offer support and help him sort it out. 

Cradled Close by Poppyseed20

2,903 words, 2/2 chapters

Character Focus: Splinter & Leonardo, Ensemble

See the full post

121 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS)

It’s me again, folks. Do you enjoy good fanfic? We’re reaching the end of the line, but I’m here to hook you up! Whether you’re new to the fandom and diving into the ROTTMNT fic scene for the first time, or a veteran looking for content you might have missed, my hope for this project is to point you to something you’ll enjoy!

This rec list is the last of three and focuses on longfic in the fandom, with a word count reaching anywhere over 15,000 words. You’ll find a variety of fic here, from novellas to full-blown novels—some complete, but many still ongoing! Though it may be heresy on the streets of New York, this is the list you want when you’re craving something really thick to sink your teeth into: a sit-down experience exploding with flavor. Don’t have time for that, actually? Then consider checking out my previous rec lists as well!

NEW YORK STYLE, BABY!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (UNDER 5,000 WORDS)

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS)

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS) — You’re here!

If you enjoy any of these fics, make sure to reblog and spread the love! Don’t forget to check out the other works by these authors; many of them have written multiple wonderful stories not featured here that are just as good. Additionally, consider leaving the authors a comment! I’m not always the best at that myself, but fic writers work hard and deserve all the love in the world.

With all of that said, it’s time for the recs. Let’s dig in!

Quick note: On previous lists, I separated the recs by the general time period they took place in. I’m not going to that here, largely because—uh. Well. Nearly all of them are post-movie! This fandom’s sure been active in the last couple of months, huh? Given that, I’ll be sorting them by a broader method, but yes. If you’ve not seen the movie, this is your warning that spoilers abound in the recs below. 

➤ ➤ ➤ CANON COMPLIANT

The Aftermath by Starrcrossrose

57,262 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 11/03/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone (Leo-centric)

Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort

It would’ve been easier to say what he was feeling, but he honestly didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure why, either. He knew his brothers would understand and comfort him and be there if he wanted them to be. Hell, Donnie’s surprise sleepover and everyone showing up for it in the living room had been proof of that.

Yet he still couldn’t do it. He’d tried to talk to Donnie and the pain on his brother’s face had been enough to make him never want to speak about things ever again. He didn’t want them to hurt the way he did; he wanted them to be okay and normal and happy.

You know they aren’t happy. Why do you keep pretending to be fine when the others aren’t either?

Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into his knees as he pulled himself into an even tighter ball. He wanted to go into his shell as much as possible, but at the same time, a searing energy was making his legs feel like he could run or swim for miles. He could just go and go and go until he collapsed.

Maybe… maybe that'll help.

Set a few months after the movie, Leo struggles with the long recovery time needed for his injuries to heal, both physical and mental. Unable to talk about it, he turns to unhealthy coping methods instead. The rest of the family is doing no better from the fallout of the invasion, however, with each of their own stresses mounting the longer things go unaddressed. That is until Chapter 8, when things come to a head...

There are a lot of post-movie recovery fics out there, each one unique. The Aftermath’s hallmark has to be in its slowburn foreshadowing, and excellent character writing. Throughout many chapters, we get a glimpse into the heads of just about every beloved character the series has to offer, including April and Casey Jr. Little clues to what’s going to go wrong are set up early on, but just like the characters, I was blind to how serious of a turn things were about to take until the problem finally reared its head. This fic does a good job of showing how important it is to talk to one another, even if it’s hard.

Aftershocks by Katiemonz, McBethins, octolingkiera, theashemarie, and this_kills_the_man

153,543 words, 12/15 chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone

Genre: Family Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“Good game,” Leo said to Donnie, smiling at Mikey in the same sly way as before.

“Thank you, Leonardo, but as I’ve said Uno is—”

“But you still lost,” Leo continued. He swept the cards up and began to straighten them for another shuffle.

“Second place is hardly—”

“Honorary title,” Leo cut in again. “Mikey won, so we owe him.”

See the full post

268 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lunicho]

hehe that isn’t too rush u at all!! i don’t mind if u don’t get to my asks i will just keep sending more as long as that’s okay haha! i’m glad you’re doing okay.. things go up and down, if it could be better then i hope it gets better for u soon 💕💕 <333 glad it’s not the worst though, that’s always good to hear!

i won’t bombard u too much but i was thinking about himbo!seongbin and how i think i misinterpreted it as fuckboy!seongbin but himbo!seongbin whiny,, needy, slightly manipulative almost yandere esque seongbin that only wants and needs u all to himself <333333 that’s all.

also i got into xikers recently! and i had this thought i need to share i think my bias is jinsik and he really reminds of a bit of heeseung and a bit of seongbin his eyes/nose remind me of hee and his mouth/jaw remind me of seongbin so no wonder i am drawn to him<3333

i’m also really looking forward to the 82major comeback i’m so excited to see what they come out with i neeeed more of their soundcloud rapper sound immediately!!! i really want the best for them and they so deserve it i need them to blow up as artists and as a group!!!

i hope this isn’t too much in one message i said i would try not to bombard lol and then i remembered a few things but yes thank yuuu!

- 🍑 anon

omgg ur so sweet, it actually means so so much that u still wanna send asks even though i haven't gotten to ur other ones bc im someone that puts a lot of pressure on myself feels rlly rlly bad about not getting to people's asks and then it makes me feel even more like paralyzed idk i just make it super hard for myself so thank u :( i definitely don't mind u sending as many asks as u want <3 also so true! im sure things will get better very very soon so im doing alright!

ur sooo right, himbo seongbin is selfish when it comes to u, he wants ur eyes on him and only on him and he gets even more needy if ur attention sways a bit. it's not realistic for you to be able to give him all of your attention constantly but it's what he craves. especially if you're out in public tgt or at a party he makes u feel bad for not focusing on him when you're literally doing what u can!! he's soo whiny when he feels a bit neglected (always) and he's almost like a puppy with the way he'll physically snuggle into u to try and get you to focus on him more.

that's so true! i could definitely see the resemblance of jinsik with the other boys! especially with u saying him and seongbin have similar eyes, i think they both have such pretty sparkly eyes yk! he's soo cute and such a sweetheart! i think my xikers bias is minjae but im still not 110% sure quite yet!

yes! i hope we get more rap with this comeback because illegal 😖😖 i love love love their music smm,, im assuming we will get more rap tho just bc of the current concept they're doing but we shall see!

no worries baby! i like when ppl send long messages cuz i talk a lot a lot a lot like even irl so it makes me feel less bad when other ppl send long messages. i send long messages and also back to back messages and i feel rlly rlly annoying sometimes LMAOSHS

[miss-misguidedmoon]

isn't it funny

ever since i was teen i knew i wanted to do hair as my profession. well, i graduated high school, moved out to santa barbara for a year, went so cosmetology school, then moved back home and started my first job ever, in a salon.

i loved it, until i didnt. working in a salon and the type of clientele i had is what i didnt love. doing hair, cutting and creating different styles just by cutting hair to fall into a unique style, or coloring a whole head of hair from one color to another. theres a science and chemistry behind mixing chemicals and manipulating the structure of the hair strand, can chemically change the color of the hair.

i was never good at art. i cant draw and can imagine it in my head but cannot recreate it onto paper. i dont have the hands to draw. hair was like my canvas, where not every since line and detail had to be super concise with the strand right next to it.

lately ive been missing that kind of creativity. ive been sparking that interest in me that wants to do something crafty. i love being able to take my time and really sit and focus on that project, but life has been so busy that i always feel guilty when i'm fucking off and procrastinating or resting.

i’m trying so hard to get my mind right and really am trying all of my options and pushing some personal boundaries within myself to find what can motivate me again to push through this chapter in my ilfe.

maybe thats why ive been feeling like crafting lately. theres not enough time in my days where i could only focus on that one thing all day. when i was little and working on a project, no one would interupt me or take my attention away from it until i fully completed it. i think the reason behind my sudden spark of DIY. am i missing the times where i could do something, uninterupted, alone with just me and my thoughts? now thinking of it, it was nice to not have to talk to anyone or be bothered with shit i really couldnt bother ilstening to, but as an adult now you dont really get that kind of alone time.

home is where i am safe and home is where i can be my most authentic self. i pick my nose whenever i want. i can eat like a slob and no one is looking at me weird. its my personal dome. my bubble.

is that why i also hoard a lot of things? i always like having everything i could possibly need in the house. idk where this thought was going.

all i know if that i am really considering buying doll heads and hair colors because i really just miss working on hair. i went down a brad mondo and hair dresser reacts videos. i was reflecting the other night about how differently i would have done those client's hair if i went back but knew what i knew now. i have a lot more knowledge about how color and bleach really works. i was never patient in the coloring process because it always took so long, but if i could just do hair without there being a risk of ruining an actual person's hair and being able to essentially wing it to create something on the head.

idk. ~

[tazumihanako]

So midnights is based on Taylor swifts album midnights and now with this vault track your losing me I want to now make a chapter for it specifically after the biggest moment in the entire story. And god thinking about it I’m just like damn that chapter is going to be the most heart wrenching chapter I feel because of what the song entails and I like to try and match the story to the songs best I could with more detail. But this is probably the most slow burn I’ve even done in terms of the end game pair. Like we got an established crush and one already in love from the beginning but ya know. Plus we got everyone and there mother crushing on Kyle which we will focus on certain ones but I do love the rivalry of Kenny vs Stan for Kyle. So I might be bias haha. But now all im thinking is Kyle with the line “I wouldn’t marry me either a pathological people please” and it hits.

Since I’m taking my time I think I might be doing small character analysis for each character. This one is going to be able Kyle and Stan and their dynamic along with how they are in this story.

Kyle in this story is as we know him in the show and is as close to canon as humanly possible. He fights for what he believes in and has a righteousness to help those in need, part of the reason why Stan loves him so much. He can watch horror but actually hates it and can’t physically stand gore. (Reference the the passion of the Jew) he also can be quite guillible to a fault (reference the biggest douche in the universe for context) in this story he will most likely believe most things people tell him minus Cartman of course which in this story he does not know anyone but Stan and Wendy. It does get explained at some point how Stan met the others since the majority have lived in New York the entire time and not in Colorado like Stan Wendy and Kyle came from. Kyle is nice as he is in the show but he also has a tendency to get annoyed by things which can be seen in multiple scenes through out the story. But just cause it’s a super hero fic doesn’t mean that Kyle is some weak damsel in distress either. There will be times he will need saving cause he doesn’t have powers but he is also strong enough to defend himself and will prove time and time again that he can also save the hero’s back. He’s close with Stan but is also super oblivious to the fact Stan is in love with him and has been for years. Kyle is smart as hell but not when it comes to love.

Stan has loved Kyle for years and has always loved him. He shares a different taste in music than Kyle does because I imagine Stan be into hard core metal and things of that nature but he loves Kyle and so is trying to expand music taste to things he might love. Kyle I imagine to be unironically a swiftie and also just somehow into pop. Idk why but I headcanon that his genre is more indie, pop, rock and others but he doesn’t dive into the metal scene cause it’s too hardcore for him. Stan is also very much into gore which you can see in the same episode that Kyle was shown to not like gore. Stan is also less gullible as seen in the episode Kyle is shown to belive the guy about talking to his grandma and also seen when Kyle joins the cult till he realizes what they were planning. Stan was always the one to ground him and show him the true colors of people and Stan continues to do this through out the story. Both morally and out of jealousy of not wanting to share his best friend.

These are just some little tidbits to hold everyone over till chapter 2 is out. I got like 21 chapters or so to write so it’ll take a while but once it’s done I’ll be so happy 😁. Because this is fun and it’s all practice for me to write an actual novel in the future. But the novel will most likely be under another pen name. But I’ll be writing more tonight so hopefully can get it out tonight but I’m giving myself till end of week. I work better on a deadline.

[kdipshit]

The Middle

So sometimes i think in black and white, and I tend to focus relationships this way, which is why I avoid them. Something about a label doesn’t sit right with me, I can only see two sides and that’s black and white. Good and bad. Emmy entire world is full of either good people or bad people, good energies or bad energies, nothing more nothing less, it’s kind of like I’m blind in a feeling type of way, I can’t sense outside of that and I don’t realise there’s a middle ground, im a fucking Libra y’all, but instead of being the scales as 1 thing, Im the actual like scales weight part that goes up and down and doesn’t stop in the middle. I’m unbalanced, idk man.

Im thanking god itself for allowing me sleep every single night. A good sleep, every night, its allowed me to wake up at an earlier hour, not feel so sluggish and like doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING with my life, oh man. I am so grateful, I appreciate nature more, I appreciate the moment, I’m not BORED I’m at PEACE, and the simplicity of it all creates a warm feeling in me like connection. Yellow, orange, brown, gold, radiance. And she the only one that know what I mean.

Lol when I was a kid how did I cry? That would be so funny idkkk mannn, was i like one of those yell cries outta no where coz I can’t hold it in? Ahahaha, I don’t remember it guess it was like how I cry now right? Which is only apparently when I’m really crazy angry and when I’m super dooper sad lol, I feel like I cry in the middle tho, this is just what I’m sister has told me, but I definitely cry alone, my sister is the closest person to me, and she only sees me cry at the very peak of my emotions, so I’m pretty good at hiding it I guess? It doesn’t feel like I’m hiding anything because its always there, I’m clearly the only person who perceives these feelings, so it should only exist to my perspective right? Okay then change your perspective… okayyyyy….. I get scared of new emotions, and perceive them bad, I can mistake connection for a ‘get out’ type of feeling, Its hard for me to accept and trust something that first makes me feel anxious and a need to change my surroundings because I now feel trapped in my own space. I’ve just taught myself how to stick it through the moment no matter how it feels and not to fly away in my brain. I can’t escape my brain, its connected to me. The middle has so much space, when I meditate I am there, and its getting easier to do without having to actually try to do anything, coz thats exactly what it is. Its not so loud I have so much space it feels so freeing, I’m not bound to any emotions, any thoughts, nothing, I’m free. nothing will hurt me here, Im safe to be in my creative bubble and positive energies. I don’t care what you think of me.

I only have a few people in my life who I would text if something major happened to me, idk maybe only 1 coz the other couple are family, like my circle is small but its full of trust especially my bestfriend ash, whom I have gone thru hell and back with. The middle doesn’t harm me with my own thoughts as weapons, of course there was a middle ground, how could I not have see this? I mistake growth for ‘this is the exact same’ type of energy, which in turn makes me feel like I’m making no progress, and forget to store the new energy, now that I know this, I can accept the new emotions and new feelings and new environment , yanno? Should I change my room around again hehe? Nah, I feel good here, I like m bed close to the computer, I can put my leg up while typing hahah.

Me moving around and doing anything for ME is ME manipulating energy so that I can create anything I desire here on earth. It doesn’t have to happen the exact way I’m thinking, it just happens. And thats the magic behind your thoughts. I don’t like awkward love I’m pretty awks like not by choice, I feel less awkward in myself when I’m feeling less like everyone is watching me and more like I’m the only one here watching, and thats all I need to remember. I’m experiencing life through this body and anyone else experiencing me is also me experiencing myself from the different angle. I want to be 90% present in 100% of my moments, giving my 100% , 100% of the time.

I believe theres nothing wrong with me

instead of identifying with your thoughts, work with them. Everything is a thought, everything. Work towards changing your thinking pattern from negative to positive by consciously swifting into a better energy daily. It’s a choice, it’s my choice how I feel and think, since they usually come together.

[theperfectblonde]

So I know I haven’t been on top of things lately, but I know I have to change them. I’m starting to make myself work out every day, and I’m still struggling with food so I’m trying to find healthy but easy foods to eat and to portion my takeout more. In the winter I just get super depressed and my appetite increases like crazy, and I just need to feel full to deal with it. I’m trying not to outright starve myself or reduce calories too too much, but I can’t help but be on the restriction side. I just had that realization that if I want to have a bikini body I’m going to have to work for it. I know binge drinking on the weekends definitely isn’t doing me any favours lol but I’m trying to focus on school during the week and mitigate what I can. Plus I’m trying to be active during my study breaks, and get more movement in where I can too. I realized I basically just haven’t been consistent with the little things that matter; so portioning bad food isn’t going to help me and neither is just a 30 minute workout when I’m not walking around all day like I do in the summer.

I know I fucked up pretty bad this last week though with food. And then being sick left me laying down a for basically two weeks and I could tell I lost a lot of physical progress. And I can tell in my tummy that it’s probably not going to say what I want it to say on the scale lmao. So for my sake I’m basically just trying to do the absolute most that I can every day until I feel comfortable enough looking on the mirror that I can handle what the scale says. I got rid of all my bigger clothes so I can’t afford to fuck up too bad lol. Yeah idk I’m just at another point with my depression and perfectionism where I’m like okay, enough is enough and I am GOING to be under 140, and get to 135 by summer at the very least. It won’t be hard if I just stay consistent and stop making excuses. I just need to get into a routine again, and not push myself too too hard until I can build my strength back up a bit again.

[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.