sleep eradication

I have cried a sea of tears over my chemistry homework. I’ve spent countless weekends in the bone room, running my fingers over every crevice and bump, trying to commit every aspect to my memory. I’ve worked on hundreds of physics problems, trying to commit advanced theoretical formulas to memory. 

I have choked back nausea and sadness at the dissection table, lamenting that someone’s pet had to die, so that I could learn which muscle goes where and which nerve goes along with it. 

I have forgone sleep, have eradicated my social life, have turned my bed room into one big classroom, with flashcards and charts everywhere, to help me remember what I need to know. 

I spend every waking hour of every day educating myself in zoology, histology, embryology, chemistry, physics, anatomy, pathology, physiology, animal welfare, ethics, ecology, evolution, biology, botany, and even politics. 

I am one of thousands of aspiring veterinarians going down this road of education. I am following in the footsteps of thousands of current veterinarians who have spent decades studying all manners of science, from the basic structure of an atom all the way to topographical anatomy. 

We are mocked as lesser doctors than human doctors, though we spend the same amount of time in school and have more than one species to memorize. We are treated as puppy huggers and animal rights nut jobs. We either have crushing student loans or live in a country with free education that pays veterinarians minimum wage. 

So, tell me again, how your vet is trying to sell you cancer pills for your dog. Tell me again how your vet spent 8+ years of financial misery and living on the edge of a burn out to spend their day arguing over whether your dog’s life is worth the 40 bucks for a parvo vaccination as part of some elaborate Nigerian Prince long-con. 

Tell me again how has made more sacrifices than any of us. Tell me again how someone who has never even opened a single, solitary educational textbook for the sake of educating themselves about their passion, somehow knows more than the thousands of people who dedicated their entire lives to this. 

What sacrifices has your mango fruit juice peddling health guru made that makes you believe he has your best interest at heart? What sacrifices has your suburban middle class housewife with a google machine that somehow has blacklisted made that makes you believe she cares more about you and not at all about how Internet controversiality feeds her ego? 

Fear is a horrible thing to live with. We all fear what we don’t know. But you don’t combat fear by clinging to the next best argument that seems to validate your pre-conceived notions and use it as an opiate pacifier. You combat it by tackling the issue head on, confronting the fact that you may be wrong, and setting aside your own personal prejudices for the sake of truth and knowledge. 

I don’t fault people for not knowing the truth. But I do fault them for hiding in their echo chamber of comfort, rather than facing the truth once it’s presented to them. 

To Better Times - Bucky x Reader



Note: I sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker (yeah I kinda switch the ‘your name’ thing up again…) good god this is prob my longest fic ever? also I’m sorry about making our little Birb and Russian Friends™ evil and also idk there’s v small amounts of drama drizzled in there but I focused on the heartbreak and confusion… I hope you enjoy though! :)-Aly

Warning: language, cheating assholes, angst in amazing amounts

Originally posted by enochianess

Breakups are bad, always have been. I mean, look what happened when American Colonists broke up with Britain. Such a waste of tea…

This is definitely scaled down, but your breakup with him is probably one of the worse things to happen to you in the past month. Truly, it was pretty terrible. The cheating bastard.

“I brought you some soup, [Y/N],” Bucky whispers, setting the steaming bowl down on the coffee table in front of you. You thank him hoarsely, picking it up in your shaky hands. The spoon is clattering against the ceramic at how hard your hands shake. Bucky settles on the couch next to you, bringing his legs up to sit criss-cross. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” You set the bowl back down, finding that you end up spilling all of the soup before it makes it to your mouth. His tear filled blue eyes meet your own bloodshot ones sadly. “You didn’t cheat on me with my best friend,” you pull your sweatshirt’s hood up farther over your head and shuffle closer to Bucky.

“It still happened, and I somehow feel like it’s my fault.” You wrap your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his lap to hold you close. “I wasn’t good enough for her, I let her down. I can’t blame her, I would cheat on me, too. I’m a failure and a monster,“ Bucky whispers, the coarse words rattling in his chest. You squeeze your arms and shake your head.

“No,” you mumble into his hoodie, “No, Bucky you’re not. You’re perfect and Na-she is too fucking dumb and unfaithful to see just how amazing you are. Even if she can’t see it… I can…” Bucky just nods lightly and rests his lays a kiss on your hair before laying his cheek on your head. You stare straight ahead, lost in thought.

James Buchanan Barnes really is an amazing man. He’s polite, kind, good, brave, selfless, fun, attractive, understanding, and just… perfect. God, why did she cheat? Why did he cheat? You’d like to think you’re an decent person.

“Thanks, doll,” Bucky mumbles, shifting you on his lap to hold you tighter. “You’re pretty great, too… He is an asshole.” His right hand comes up and gently brushes through your hair soothingly.

You sniff, laughing lightly. “Maybe we should just date each other,” you joke. Bucky’s hand stills on your head and you silently curse yourself. Damnit, you made a fucking mistake.

“Yeah,“ he replies slightly sarcastically as his fingers begin running through your hair again. “Maybe we should…” His voice fades off as an internal conflict wages in his mind. God, he really wouldn’t mind mind dating you. You’re kind, pretty, understanding… Jesus, what the fuck is he doing. He just got out of a relationship. He should be more heartbroken, shouldn’t he? But he can’t feel terrible with you in his arms. You smell amazing, and you’re so warm. You understand him so well, and you have always accepted him.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter in embarrassment. “That was inappropriate.” But God, how you wish.

“No, no…” Bucky assures, shifting you so you’re face to face. “It’s fine, doll.” You can feel Bucky’s minty breath fanning across your face. He’s so close you could tip your head just right and his lips would be on yours. Fuck, you need to chill. You were just cheated on by your boyfriend of almost 2 years with your bestfriend. Only two weeks ago you thought you were going to marry him, and thought you were falling deeper and deeper in love than before. What the shit is your brain doing, thinking things like this.

But then his blue eyes flicker down to your lips and those nagging thoughts go racing through your head again. You think about how easy it would be to just drown out the pain of him in Bucky. You could just tilt your head ever so slightly and lose yourself in his taste.

Shit. You clear your throat, ducking to rest your head on his shoulder, burying your nose in the divot in the crook of his neck. God he smells amazing. Bucky frowns slightly, closing his eyes. He fucked up. He shouldn’t have tried anything. He thought he was subtle, that maybe if you weren’t interested you wouldn’t notice. Instead, you did notice, and you turned away. He probably just fucked everything up and it can’t possibly get worse from here.

You and Bucky sit in silence, both of you berating yourselves for the shitty moves. You sigh, closing your eyes in an attempt to drift off to sleep. Hopefully sleep will eradicate these strange (not necessarily new) feelings.

Bucky’s eyes crack open, searching for the clock. It reads 04:27. He sighs lightly. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep. Must’ve just dropped off sometime after screwing things up with you. No matter how embarrassed he felt, god, he can’t deny that you’re very comfortable and warm.

That very fact makes it hard for him to shift you from his lap and stand. You let out a quiet sound that’s a mix between and whimper and a moan, making Bucky’s heart swell. God you’re adorable. He waits for you to settle into the couch further before picking up the bowl full of soup to bring it into the apartment’s kitchen. He sets about cleaning the dishes and tidying up.

You stir, wearily blinking your eyes open to the sound of dishes clinking and water splashing. In the kitchen you can see the faint outline of Bucky in front of the sink. You stand and shuffle over to him, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his back.

Bucky jumps as you yank him from his thoughts. “Hey,” you whisper into his back. “Will you come lay down with me again?” Bucky smiles softly as your sleep filled voice and hums in approval. As he places the last dish on the drying rack and washes his hands you smile against his sweatshirt clothes back. “You know, I really, really, really like you,“ you mumble lowly. “Like… I like like you… And I’m so conflicted because I was just cheated on by Sa-him, and I thought I was in love but… What really is love? I don’t think I’ve ever felt it… Maybe not until now…” Your words are slurred and by the sound of it you don’t even realize what it is you’re saying.

Bucky is frozen with a hand towel in his hands. He’d been drying them when you decided to drop that bomb on him. “I-I… Doll?” He can only stutter incoherent phrases out as he places the towel on the counter and turns around to face you. You look up at him through your lashes as you rest your chin on his chest. Your lips tilt up in a sleepy and loveydovey manner. “I…” He sighs, thinking everything over.

Two days ago, his girlfriend was caught cheating on Bucky with [Y/N]’s boyfriend. Then the two heart broken lovers to dump their unfaithful asses and retreat into Bucky’s apartment. They act like everything was fine while consuming copious amounts of liquor. One day ago Bucky found [Y/N] curled up in the fetal position on the shower floor with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, sobbing like hell. He put her in a pair of his sweats and an old sweatshirt he dug out of his closet before laying her on the couch. He proceeded to pretend he was fine but at the sound of [Y/N]’s sobs, he broke down. One hour ago, Bucky was cradling [Y/N]’s body and thinking about emotions. He felt that maybe he wasn’t truly in love with her… Maybe he was in love with the idea of her; of having a beautiful woman wholly committed to him so he could be fully committed to her.

Maybe he’s been looking at the wrong person.

“Doll, I like like you, too.” Bucky breaks, deciding that even if this doesn’t work out, he tried. And God, if he even has a remote clue about what the hell love is, then he knows that he’s in love.

[Y/N] smiles brightly, launching into a rant, “So, like… do we date now? I mean this is so confusing because we’re both just out of a long time relationship-granted because they were a couple of fucking dipshit cockheads, but are we even emotionally stable enough to tell that this is more than platonic? ‘Cause I know that I had some… conflicting feelings toward you while with my ex, but did you? Does it matter? Is love even real? Can a human really feel love? Or is it a figment of our imagina-”

“Doll, darling, [Y/N]. Shush, okay? Look, I don’t think I was truly in love with her. I might have just been settling because I thought the one I really wanted was taken for good. You don’t need to worry…” His voice gets quieter as he ducks his head so they your nose touches his. “I love you.”

“Oh, god,” your voice cracks happily as you smile widely, “I love you, too.” With that you’re gently pulled up so that Bucky’s lips can press urgently to yours. He wraps his arms around you tightly, lifting you up as you jump to wrap your legs around his hips. He’s slowly making his way to the couch carefully (let’s be honest, you’re both still pretty drunk and tired and sad, not really in the mood for sex). You’re just about there when someone bangs on the front door loudly. You groan in surprise, pulling away to stare at the dark wood in confusion. Bucky sets you down and makes his way over to look in the peep hole, but before he takes more than three steps the door is swinging open.

The proverbial dust settles and reveals them. The two people you had once trusted with so much. The two people who took that trust in their fists and crushed it. The two people who banged it up by banging each other.

Sam Wilson and Natalia Romanoff. The Falcon and the Black Widow. Exboyfriend and exbestfriend. Cheating dickfaces.

Your eyes widen and fill with tears as Sam takes cautious steps toward you. “No, no,” your voice cracks with the words, this time in sadness. “Don’t come near me, okay?”

“Babe, please,” Sam begs, his chocolate eyes wide in a pleading innocence. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so, so sorry. I love you.” You shake your head fiercely, causing the tears to fall down your cheeks.

“Don’t fucking say that,” you sniffle and bring your sleeve up to wipe at your cheeks furiously. “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me when I saw you fucking that whore in our bed!” You practically scream as you break down. You can feel Bucky’s arms wrap around you as your knees become weak. Sam just stares at you sadly, putting his hands up in defense and backing away slowly. “Get the fuck away from me, I never want to see your shitty self again,” you hiss as you sink from Bucky’s embrace and to your knees.

“Bucky,” Natalia whispers, her green eyes watery. “James I’m sorry.” Ever the woman of few, deceiving words.

“No, you’re not. Don’t call me that,” He walks to Natalia and pushes her towards the door where Sam hovers, staring at the sobbing woman who’s heart he broke. “I think it’s best if neither of you come around here again.” He pushes both of them out. “Tell the team were taking a leave of absence until we’re… okay,” Bucky adds before slamming the door in their faces. He’s not sure if he could have looked into her eyes any longer without busting out in hideous sobs.

Instead he allows silent tears to flow down his scruffy cheeks as he grabs a couple of bottles of vodka he brought back from his last mission to Russia and sets them on the coffee table. Then he lovingly lifts [Y/N] into his arms and settles with her on the couch, laying on his back with her on top, her face buried in his chest and staining his sweatshirt.

He hears the distinct roar of Tony’s Ferrari tearing down the road as he pops the first bottle open and gulps down mouthfuls of the clear liquid. Your sons die down as you grab a bottle yourself, lifting up just enough to chug nearly half the bottle. You and Bucky sit in silence, trying to drink your issues away with each other.

Toast to better times.

I don’t want to go to bed.  Why do I have to go to bed?  I’m an adult, I should be able to completely eradicate sleep from my basic needs.  WHAT’S THE POINT IN BEING AN ADULT IF I’M FORCED TO SUCCUMB TO MY OWN BIOLOGY??

This’ some bullshit.

how 'new york city serenade' went probably
  • robin: is that the evil queen?
  • little john: the evil queen who murdered the king in his sleep? who eradicated countless villages? who cursed these lands for twenty-some years?
  • robin: yes. that evil queen.
  • little john: looks to be the case.
  • robin: i'd better go help her up.