My contribution to the PostitForward movement!
May is Mental Health month, and the support from everyone on this website means so much to me.
As I was taking these photos, I found myself critiquing every little thing about myself and what I looked like. Then I realized what the pictures were for.
I refuse to think badly of myself anymore. I love every one of you, I think you’re all beautiful, so why is it that I shouldn’t feel the same of myself?
So, I hope my mental illness is watching me right now, watching me smile into the camera, because I won. I won this battle and I will continue to fight and win for the rest of my life.
Summary: Dance school!AU (or the Step Up/Pride and Prejudice mash up nobody asked for). Bucky Barnes is forced to take twelve hours of commercial dance classes to pass the year- and that just happens to be your regular weekly dance class.
New chapter, new header and new readers! I’m thrilled to have you all (getting the notifications when you read through the story right from the start is honestly amazing ahhhh) and I have made good on my promise to have these shorter chapters up in quicker succession. Let’s do this!
“Why is it,” You grumble, hopping about on one foot, “That
fluff always collects on the soles of tights even though you wash them?”
“I highly doubt anyone’s going to be looking at your feet,
Y/N,” Wanda calls from the bathroom, and Pepper nods her head in agreement. You
sigh and give up.
“Pepper…” Wanda’s voice floats back in, “Please find out why
she’s stressing so much. I can’t take it for no reason.”
“What- no. No-”
You start to clam up, but Pepper shifts on the beanbag and fixes you with a piercing
“She’s right, Y/N. Something’s up.” When you sigh
uncomfortably, Pepper touches your arm. “You can tell us!”
You suppose you can: but, all the same, you’re never keen on
making yourself more vulnerable than you have to be. It’s just a silly crush, you tell yourself, then force yourself to
stop chewing your lip.
“It’s James,” You relent, “I mean, it’s nothing, but-” The
end of your sentence is drowned out by a whoop as Wanda comes leaping back into
the main room.
“I knew it!
Pepper, you owe me a drink!”
“What?!” You gasp,
then make an ineffectual swat at Wanda as she bounds past. “You are the worst!
I can’t believe you- you made a bet
“It was obvious something was going on,” Pepper makes an
apologetic face, “But I thought it
was just you making friends.”
“He got her to stretch, Pep,” Wanda says, smirking, “I’ve
been trying to do that for two years.”
“Ugh,” You groan, “Please don’t say anything tonight. I’m
just taking it slow.”
“Of course we won’t,” Pepper says, instantly. Wanda holds
out for a moment longer, before relenting.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
“Good,” You say, firmly. Your heart’s still pounding a
little, but at the sight of your friends’ smiles, you can’t help but feel just
a little bit optimistic, too.
Wanda and Pepper had been magnanimous about girls’ night
being upstaged by an invite from the ballet school, but they both insisted on
coming ‘round to yours before setting off. Thinking about it, they’d probably
planned it, just to get a confession out of you.
“Are you ready to go?” Pepper said, getting to her feet.
“It’s nearly quarter-to.”
“Yep, just let me get my shoes on.”
“Hold on!” Wanda yelps, dashing back out, “I forgot to do
I call people sometimes hoping not only that they’ll verify the fact that I’m alive but that they’ll also, however indirectly, convince me that being alive is an appropriate state for me to be in. Because sometimes I don’t think it’s such a bright idea. Is it worth the trouble it takes trying to live life so that someday you get something worthwhile out of it, instead of it almost always taking worthwhile things out of you?