these things are getting progressively worse

anonymous asked:

I too struggled with a chronic illness for years. I just wanted to let you know, it really does get better. You will get so much stronger even though it doesn't feel like it right now. I know you feel like the pain and suffering will never end, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better. Your writings are so lovely! Keep at it !! Love and prayers always !!! :)

Thank you. I have been struggling for nearly a decade. My illness has progressed a lot in that time. I do believe I am getting stronger, unfortunately, so are my symptoms. That’s the thing about struggles and strength: it is relative to the individual, and what you see externally isn’t always the best indication of what someone is going through or what they are fighting to put on that sort of appearance. Things get better, they get worse, but we never stop fighting. Some will fight the rest of their lives only to have the illness win in the end. It doesn’t make them less strong. It doesn’t make us stronger. It just makes our fights different. I am always here to talk to people who struggle in anyway. Feel free to reach out. I appreciate this message and knowing that you care enough to send something like this.

Accepting Anxiety: Part 2/2: Can Anxiety Be Good? Analysis

Okay so before I start jsyk I’ve been happy stimming since I saw the video my arms are so tired

- Roman’s previously is so extra

- The clock is in color now

- Anxiety’s room: Anime poster, masquerade mask, candles, album art, a LOT of Nightmare Before Christmas stuff, spooky lamp, spider curtains, cat

- We get Anxiety’s music it’s nice

- Patton really hates spiders // when he needs comfort, he buries his face in the cardigan

- Roman is protective of Morality

- Everyone has cool toned lighting except for Anxiety, his is warm. And he fills up more of the frame than usual

- Anxiety is so, so, so, mad about them being in his room. His eyeshadow is way darker as well.

- Roman screams like a little girl

- Does Roman always have a brush on him? Or???

- “Didn’t seem like I was wanted. You all made that pretty clear.” He looks at Roman when he says that, then glances away. 

- This is the third or fourth time he’s said, “Except you, Patton.”

- “I love my dark strange son” *Heathers playing the background*

- Roman is horrible at making things better

- THomas tells ROman to shut up the first time

- Logan is the first to get eyeshadow beneath his eyes. As the video progresses, the other two get them as awell and they get darker, eventually worse than Anxiety’s

- Anxiety is so unhappy that they’re there. “If I wanted to be insulted, I would have just shown up like I usually do.” His room has been a place where he’s safe, and they’ve corrupted that

- “You poor little anxious baby”

- Thomas doesn’t have eyeshadow on I don’t think but he has bags under his eyes T H O M A S go to sleep

- Everyone is kind of an asshole in this video it’s weird

- There is so much self hatred in Anxiety

- Thomas tells Roman to shut up a second time, third, and fourth time

- Each time we cut back to roman during that, his eyeshadow is darker

- Patton asks about Roman’s self esteem issues 

- and then gets insecure about his questions // when he does so he flinches back away from Princey like he’s waiting to be attacked either physically or verbally. I know that look

- Patton is supportive 

- I just noticed this but Patton’s camera is angled downwards

- Logan rambles and gets dark help him

- Anxiety flinches from Logan yelling (there’s a lot of loud and a lot of flinching in this video)

- Patton doesn’t like loud noises either

- Logan’s eyeshadow gets worse as he rambles and Princey’s hair starts to fall into his face

- Anxiety is an alarm clock

- Patton yells that Anxiety is happiness

- Logan doesn’t like the loud noise now too “E=MC scared”

- Patton is worried he won’t be allowed the chance to speak

- When Thomas is praising Anxiety, Roman looks extremely distressed and takes two deep breaths

- Roman admitting that Anxiety isn’t all bad looks so difficult for him but it also comes out like something he’s been trying to say for a long time but hasn’t been able to psych himself up to do

- Anxiety’s small smile at Roman saying he makes them all better

- Roman’s immediate response after the smile is “Was that good did I do good?”

- The effect on Anxiety’s voice is beautiful

- Breathing as a technique to stop the anxiety (I know it’s a thing but doesn’t work for me)

- Anxiety praises Thomas as he guides him from the mindscape

- “Being anxious about getting more anxious. Sounds like me”

- Roman is genuinely surprised that Anxiety saved him

- Even though he plays it off, it means a lot to Anxiety that Patton is proud of him

- “Vigilant People” *eyebrow raise* foreshadow

- Anxiety is genuinely distressed about sharing his name

- “You’re great Patton”

- “Logan. Shut your ever flapping gobtalker.”

- Patton is all of us

- No music during the reveal

- Roman is in complete panic about Thomas wanting to know about his laughter in regards to Anxiety being a virgin…. uh….. okay

- Roman acknowledges how much Anxiety had to trust them to reveal his name as Virgil. 

- By the way, Virgil is derived from Vigilant. It’s also of Roman descent

- “You can call me Verge” okay edgelord

-  W H A T  O T H E R S ROMAN stop dropping bombs on us

- Sound of Music farewells

- Anxiety is so happy to be accepted

- The end card is so cute Patton is so pure I love him

Take it easy, guys, gals and nonbinary pals

Writing Character Arcs

Post suggested by @amethystvalkyrie.

Let’s get this out straight away: You cannot disregard character arcs. The way you can think of character arcs is that readers usually come for the plot but stay for the character because you can have a kick ass plot but if the characters don’t have depth and don’t grow or change throughout, then the readers can’t connect to the story. Readers need to care about the character to care about what they are going through and the best way to do this is through their arc. Now, though attention to character is always important, certain genres demand more than others just like certain genres demand more plot than others. For example, literary, contemporary YA, and romance put more emphasis of character than more plot-driven genres like thriller, adventure, fantasy and sci fi. In any case, character arc enhances the story but it can be tricky to understand how create this arc and how to use it to better the story, so here are some tips:

  • Really, think of it as a curve. Okay, so maybe not a nice smooth curve, more like one with a bunch of bumps and squiggles in it. Also, the direction of this curve depends on who you want your character to become. Usually, a protagonist will arc up, starting at point where they have some personal obstacles to overcome, whether this is just a few things or a major attitude adjustment. You can also have characters that arc down and progressively get worse, like a villain or a tragic hero. The point is that as the time goes on, your characters should move on the Y axis (sorry for the math). You can actually plot it out if it helps you understand the rises and falls of your character’s arc.
  • Find what each character really needs to change. What is holding them back from achieving their goal? Why is it so important that they change? What would happen or who would they be if they don’t change? Alternatively, what can go wrong if they change or change for the worse? Remember that not every character arc is a positive one and sometimes readers need to see the characters fall to understand what is at stake and cheer for them more when they get back up.
  • Don’t make it sudden or pointless. Like anything else in your story you want to make the character’s advancement (or deterioration) have a cause and effect relationship. Something that happens in the story causes the character to have to change or at least consider how their actions are impacting others and their own life. A drunk who gets into a car accident and nearly kills their kid. A hero whose selfishness nearly causes the destruction of a village. Typically, the biggest shifts happen near the climax where the stakes are highest and the character has to make the biggest decisions.
  • Don’t make the character passive. Passive characters, in particular passive protagonists are unbearable. These are the ones that have the plot happen to them rather than contributing to the direction and outcome of the events. A character needs to take charge of their own destiny even if it’s a story where destiny is literally coming after them. Like I said before, some genres have more room for this than others. A high-stakes thriller that’s more plot driven has moments where the characters have to struggle to keep up with the events happening to them, but they should still be making the major decisions that ultimately lead to the conclusion. When the characters aren’t being decisive they can’t grow or change and their personal story stays flat and boring.
You Meme A Lot To Me

Clint has created a chatroom.

Clint has invited Y/N, Natasha.

Clint: every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break

Natasha: clint, it’s 2 am.

Clint: every step you take

Clint: I’ll be watching you. happy valentine’s day. my gifts will be delivering later on pls do not trash them

Natasha: is that coulson’s song?

Y/N: this explains why my room is flooded with gifts from the others

Natasha: why must tony give us all cardboard cutouts of him every year?

Pietro has joined the chat.

Pietro: couldn’t u choose a better song old man? this is why u have no valentine. even ur wife said no.

Clint: did i invite u? no.

Pietro: today is a day of love so don’t be salty

Clint: Na.

Clint: hahaha get it

Pietro: no

Clint: ofc you wouldn’t

Keep reading

A Target Retales PSA

Hey guys.

So I’ve got some bad news and I’ve got some good news. 

The bad news: I’m now on medical leave from work.

I’ve been struggling with some medical issues for years now, but they’ve been progressively getting worse and worse, and now I’m at a point where I just can’t be on my feet or just generally active for more than a few minutes at a time, let alone long enough to work a shift. 

Doctors have been struggling to figure out a diagnosis. So far all that we know is that it’s probably something neurological. I’ve got some tests this week that hopefully will shed some light on things, but honestly, I’m not overly optimistic. So until things get figured out and I can get some sort of treatment started, I’m on leave from work.

Which means no new retales for the time being.

The good news: This does not mean I’m out of content.

I’ve had a lot of projects I’ve been working on/wanting to work on for a while now, but between work and the physical/emotional toll that going through work, I haven’t been able to give them my full attention. Thankfully, being bedridden goes hand-in-hand with digital content in my case.

I’ve got a Target Retales podcast in the works! In fact, the first episode is going to be published later tonight!

I’ve got a YouTube channel! A lot of you are subscribed, but I’ve neglected it for the last couple of months. But now I’m back in action, posting at least once a week if not twice, and I’ve got some great plans for videos coming up!

I’ve got a couple other podcasts in the works! I’ve teased the one wherein I over-analyze pop media and expose the terrifying truths of fictional universes (Lightning McQueen is an abuser?), and I’m planning a scripted D&D comedy series!

And I’ve been teasing one huge project for months and months now, but I’ve had to put it off for a while with everything going on, but now I can finally buckle down and get to work on it, so I feel ready to let you guys in on the secret.

I’m working with an agency and writing a Target Retales book.

So even if I’m not releasing new stories, there’s still a TON of content coming, both Retales-related and not!

Wanna help me out?

There is, of course, the catch. While I’m super excited to be able to work on all of my projects, I’m now not able to work at work, which is, you know, how money is made.

I’m not in any sort of financial crisis, so I won’t be asking for donations or anything, but if you like my content and would like to support me, this would be a great time to check out my Patreon. I’m going to be adding some new perks and changing things up in the near future, but I can guarantee there will be all sorts of fun things in store if you decide to help me out here. In fact, any current Patrons or new Patrons who join by the end of the month will receive a hand-written letter from me, including unreleased Retales and a few stickers.

In Summary:

I’m taking medical leave from work, no new Retales will be released but all sorts of projects are still in the works, including a podcast and a book, and I’m offering a cool bonus if you support me during this rough patch on my Patreon.

Thank you all so much for all the support you’ve shown me since the start. I wouldn’t be where I am without you and I hope you enjoy the content I continue to make.

5 Outlander Characters That Hate A September Premiere More Than You Do

Because this popped into my head and I won’t be doing any more pieces for Scotland Now/The Daily Record till September, when, for all we know, we might all be in the depths of a nuclear winter and I might not have access to Tumblr. Or fingers.

Slight book spoilers, but nothing beyond what’s already in the press. Read on at your own peril.

1. Frank Randall. This poor bastard is likely the only character that wishes the premiere was two weeks after never. He finally convinced Claire to give it a go for old times’ sake, moved across the ocean, is fathering a child that isn’t his, all in the hope that he can recapture the past.  The inevitable breakdown of his hope and rise of his IDGAF-ness will be both tragic and riveting. I both dread it and also CAN’T WAIT.

2. Bree Randall. Not only does she have to listen to Claire constantly justify herself by describing how SCORCHING the sex was with her bio-dad, the revelation that Jamie is alive (past alive, currently dead, it’s very timey-wimey), means that Bree will now also have to shoulder the burden of making herself a 20th-century orphan x3 vs. leaving human baby chinchilla and potential bae (Roger) behind before they even hit first base. Either way, someone’s getting c*ckblocked.

3. Roger Wakefield. There are a lot of dangerous things that happen in the Outlander-verse, but none is as guaranteed to be risky as falling in love with a Fraser. Much like Moses parting the Red Sea, loving a Fraser requires brass balls, excellent hair, and divine intervention. From the moment Roger spied Bree across a room, he hitched his wagon to Satan’s ponies, and it’s only a matter of time before he joins mom-in-law Claire on the dark side. Ain’t nothing like a Randall woman to make a Mackenzie boy lose his gotdamb mind.

4. Claire Fraser-cum-Randall. Claire is not here for a lot of things, and now those things include the Bonnie Prince Charlie, traditional gender roles and the 20th century. We get the sense at the end of S2 that the Randall marriage was unhappy–and we’ll get to see that progression happen–but we’ll also see the pain and loneliness that Claire hides from everyone else, and her despair at never seeing Jamie again. Now that she knows he is alive, she’s pointed herself right at him like a bouffant-y, sexually frustrated arrow, but the man she is going back to won’t be the one she left behind.

5. James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie finished up S2 by giving up his wife and child after agreeing to betray his King, killing his uncle and heading off to die in war. You wouldn’t think things could get worse for our Scottish Aslan, but you would be SO WRONG. War. Prison. NO KILTS. Not only does he get to live in constant ignorance of what happened to his family, but that bod is like a Ferrari that only gets driven to oil changes and that is a crying shame. Basically, underneath Jamie’s lagoon of sadness lives a subterranean village of suck, and he has barely set foot on what will be an island cave filled wall-to-wall with WTF.   


Now I’m a big supporter of Galra Keith, and idk if this has been done before, but hear me out;

  • Keith starts to feel faint, dizzy and hot, and soon realizes that he has some kind of fever
  • He is incredibly faint and tired and (after after insisting that he doesn’t need any) the paladins convince him that he needs rest
  • After a couple of days Keith still isn’t better, if anything he’s getting worse
  • At some point while changing or showering, Keith realizes that he’s turning purple
  • Starting around his chest, splotches of dark purple are spreading across his body
  • He is quickly ushered into a healing pod but they soon realize that all its doing is pausing Keith’s “transformation” instead of reverting it or doing anything to make him better
  • They decide on letting Keith out and looking after him until it’s over (not before some angst where they have to accept Keith turning full Galra tho)
  • Over the next couple days, Keith gets progressively worse; he starts getting fever dreams and hallucinations, and is acting really strange
  • He seems oddly well-mannered and apologetic, always saying thank you whenever someone does the smallest thing and sorry for having to look after him
  • (Keith has gone 6 days without being angry)
  • While he’s in one of his trance-like phases Lance comes in to help him out
  • Keiths feeling really… clingy?
  • Keith prolly says some gay shit he isn’t gonna remember about the bonding moment or smth
  • Afterwards (when Keef has achieved maximum Galra) he is horrified after hearing what he apparently said and/or did 
  • He and Lance avoid each other for as long as possible (which isn’t very long0

Idk where I’m going with this, you can interpret it however ya want ;)

Just something to think about~


Alsoo idk if its worthy but feel free to make your own adaptations, just credit me if you do? I’m gonna draw this at some point idk when tho  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And feel free to add or change anything! It doesn’t have to be Klance!

Young Romance

Jughead x Reader

Summary: You and Jughead were best friends in childhood, until a miscommunication pulled you apart. Years later, you run into Jughead in the most peculiar of places.

     Being late to school had become a regular occurrence for you. You would repeatedly rush into class frantically ten minutes after the bell, and take your seat with all eyes on your and glare from your teacher. This particular day however, you decided that you were going to be early. Pulling into the empty parking lot, you smiled triumphantly at your success in actually getting out of the door on time and to school. The doors to the building were unlocked in the morning for the early rising teachers, and so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and sort out your locker situation. You had never been the tidiest person, but your utter lack of time at school had resulted in your locker being a mess. Just as you were about to pass the first floor staircase, the janitor’s closet door opened. Jumping, you fell to the ground in a poor attempt to step back quickly. Looking around you, you realized that all of your belongings were scattered across the floor, on account of the fact that you had failed to zip up your backpack. It seemed like the world was against you. Reverting your gaze to the person who had caused this, you were surprised to see the town outcast, and your childhood boyfriend, Jughead Jones.

“Oh god, I am so sorry Y/N.” Jughead said anxiously, crouching down to help me pick up my stuff.

     Focusing on his face, you noticed the wet ringlets of hair falling around his eyes. “It’s okay…but why is your hair soaking wet and what were you doing in the janitor’s closet?” You said inquisitively.

     Jughead visibly tensed, but you just raised an eyebrow in further question. Sighing, Jughead stood up and reached a hand down to help you up, before pulling you into the closet and shutting the door quickly behind you. “This is what I was doing in the closet.”

     Analyzing the area I saw a blanket, books and clothes scattered around, and canned goods littering the floor. “What, living?” You quipped, sarcasm dripping from your voice. From Jughead’s following silence, you knew you had fucked up.

“Oh Jughead.” You said, looking around once more before turning to him in concern. “What happened?” You asked at the realization that he was literally living in the janitor’s closet at school.

     Scratching at the nape of his neck he pulled out a picture of the drive in and you looked at him with a blank stare. Rolling his eyes he tugged at his beanie. “That’s where I was staying before here.”

“But what about your dad, what about Jellybean?” Your worry became evident in your voice as you tried to piece together what had happened to Jughead in the 4 years that you had grown apart.

“My dad fell off the wagon. He was doing drugs, getting the family into dangerous situations, so my mom packed herself and Jellybean a bag and left. At the time I refused to leave my dad, but things got progressively worse and so here I am. Welcome to my humble abode.” He said, holding his arms out and nodding towards the small space he occupied.

“Juggie.” You whispered, so low that you questioned whether he had even heard you until his eyes met yours. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

     You knew why he hadn’t. It had been years since he had chosen Betty and Archie over you, and he damn well knew that you had wanted nothing to do with him ever since. Over the last couple of  years, you had internally forgiven him, but of course he had no way of knowing that.

“Well Y/N, I wouldn’t exactly call us friends. I would barely call us acquaintances as this point.” He said with a shrug and an expression that indicated anxiety and irritation.

“I care about you though. I never stopped caring about you.” You mumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact with Jughead.

“Really? Because it sure didn’t feel that way when you ditched me for fucking Reggie Mantle.” Jughead threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

“That wasn’t the same as you ditching me for Archie and Betty. I was dating Reggie.” You told him, reminding yourself of the horror that was seventh grade.

     Jughead just looked at you, searching your face for some recognition of something that wasn’t there. “Are you serious? Dating Reggie? You aren’t even going to acknowledge the fact that we together? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. We were 13, and we aren’t anymore, and we aren’t the same people anymore either. I don’t know who you are now, and you don’t know me. So how about we stop pretending and just get on with our day.”

     Your chest suddenly felt restricted and full of pressure. As your throat began to swell, you managed to choke out “What do you mean we were together?”

     Jughead stopped gathering his binders for a moment to stop and look at you. “I don’t get what you’re saying. We were together? Had we not always been together? We were children Y/N. It was so juvenile.” He shook his head as he reached down and picked up his laptop.

“I didn’t get the memo then, I guess. I had the biggest crush on you forever. I thought we were just close friends.” You spoke, scared of how he would react.

“Oh yeah, right. Because that’s why we were each other’s first kiss, and why I spent almost every waking moment with you, and why I got angry when you would talk about how nice Reggie was.” Jughead’s voice was beginning to get louder and you placed your hand over his mouth, knowing that people would be piling into the building by this time.

“We kissed because our friends had already had their first kiss, not because we were dating. And I thought we were just really close friends.” You argued, trying to make him understand your point of view.

    Refusing to meet your eyes, Jughead brought his hand up and detached your hand from his mouth. “This is pointless. Either way, we haven’t spoken in years, and whether or not we were dating as 13 year olds isn’t relevant anymore.”

“Jughead. Look at me.” You brought your hand up to his face and turned it so that he couldn’t continue to avoid your eyes. “I still care about you. I don’t want this to be your home. My family loves you, and you still talk to them. Why wouldn’t you just come stay with us?”

“Yeah, because it would be a great idea for me to just show up at your house one day, after our last encounter, to tell you that I am now a proud member of your household. Not likely.” He reasoned, which made you become frustrated.

“For fucks sake Jughead.” You said as he began to push past you to get out of the closet. Grabbing his beanie from off his had. You backed up, tripping on the bed that he had laid out on the floor and falling onto it. Of course, his hand immediately flew to his head and he groaned, turning around to look at you with distress.

“Give it back Y/N. You know that I can’t go out there without it.” Jughead told you, holding out his palm to you firmly.

“Come and get it.” You bit back, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you, so that he fell onto the makeshift bed beside you. You held the beanie behind you, just out of reach and watched as he scrambled around you to try and get it, to no avail. Soon enough, he hovering in front of you, and snaking his arm behind yours to reach your hand. With his face less than a foot away from yours, you pulled your arm around and promptly placed his beanie right back on his head, before using it as leverage to pull his face closer to yours.

     Jughead, exhausted, didn’t move, and you watched as his eyes fluttered, eyeing your lips and then your eyes again. “You’re going to regret it.” He whispered, his breathing fanning over your face. Ignoring his comment, you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his lips, before deepening the kiss and sliding down so that he was effectively positioned with one leg between yours, hovering on top of you. At this point, you knew that he had the upper hand, that he could push himself off of you and leave, but instead he placed his hands on either side of you and kissed you back. His lips were soft, and you could feel him shaking slightly, but you didn’t care. Disconnecting your lips, you gave him multiple pecks before lightly pushing him to let you sit up.

You watched him for a second and he watched you, both of you apprehensive of what to do or say next.

Finally, after what felt to you like an eternity, he spoke. “I’ve missed you.”

Smiling, you traced your fingers on his leg and nodded. “I’ve missed you too.”

Jughead looked down at the light circles you were making on his leg and reached his hand down to intertwine it with yours. “I’m sorry for being so irritable. I’m going through a lot and talking to you just…it just-”

“Hey, Juggie, I get it. You don’t have to explain anything to me. When we stopped being friends, I went through a long period of resentment. I was angry that you looked so happy with Betty and Archie, that you could move on so quickly.” Your throat closed up as Jughead’s thumb gently brushed yours. “I was just a kid and you were my only friend, and I’m sorry that I didn’t just talk to you.”

Jughead smiled softly and fixed the beanie atop his head. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I thought we were dating. Gotta love that young romance.” He said laughing a bit.

You smiled back at him. “I know we are still young, but do you think we could try it again? You know, where both of us know that it’s happening this time?”

Rolling his eyes, he brushed off his pants and stood up, lending you a hand. “Buy me an apology burger at Pop’s tonight and I’ll think about it.”

     Scoffing at his remark, you hit him playfully. Jughead caught your arm and pulled you close to him, the heat of his body radiating onto your own. Squeezing your hand lightly, he brought his other hand up to your face and ran his thumb smoothly over your skin. A small peck was placed on your lips, gentle and forgiving. Looking up into his eyes, the gleam of them twinkling back at you, you relaxed into the knowledge that for you two, this wouldn’t stop at young romance.


a/n: I skipped all my classes today because of a migraine. I think my body was just so over life, and it was literally like, nope you’re not going anywhere. But I don’t mind, and on the bright side, this imagine happened. 

Your name: submit What is this?


Shawn, of course, likes to go to the gym every single morning without fail no matter where he is. Since you’ve been tagging along while he travels for work this past week, you thought you’d wake up early every morning to work out with him. Today is your fourth morning in a row of waking up at 6am to head over to whatever gym is closely accessible. Shawn has his whole complicated workout, but you stick to what you know, which is usually a couple of miles on the treadmill and then some ab and core workouts. 

After your workout this morning, you find that you’re not feeling as great as you would have liked and as great as you normally do following a good workout. While walking down the hotel hallway, you start to see white spots in your vision, almost like someone had just flashed a camera in your face, although no one did. You try to ignore it as you walk down to the lobby with Shawn to get some breakfast. While eating, you begin to feel progressively worse and worse as time passes. You find yourself having a difficult time even thinking of the words you want to say or how to describe the things you’re trying to talk to Shawn about. You don’t want to tell him how badly you’re feeling, so you just hope he thinks you are simply tired from waking up so early and working out. 

Keep reading


the blog will run on queue from tonight [Feb 23rd] until march 6th, at least, which means i won’t be able to reply to your asks or messages. i think i will close the asks until i’m back. 

here are the links i get most asks about:

updates page - what i’m working on, what’s getting updated, etc.
fic recs blog - i reblog my favorite fics here, so if you’re looking for something, it might be there
- all other links are here

i don’t know when i’ll be updating what because i won’t be able to write for the next two weeks, so getting asks about it only makes me feel worse. i mean, i wish i could write all day every day, but i won’t be able to do anything, and when i get back, i’ll have to catch up with all my uni work that i’ll miss while i’m on this trip, so bear with me! the first things i’ll update will be sin city and benefits because i made most progress with those two this week. :)

How to Get Ahead in Life

1. Don’t pay too much attention to the way you feel. Feelings change throughout the day and they are unreliable. Don’t let them rule your life, or interfere with your goals.

2. Decide not to worry as it tends to make things worse. If you focus on your worries it will drain your energy – and often what we’re dreading doesn’t happen anyway.

3. Cut the internal commentary. Stop telling yourself that things are going to fall apart, or your efforts won’t succeed, or you won’t be popular. Keep trying, moving forwards, and getting on with life.

4. Stop being self-critical. You need to be your own cheerleader and your biggest fan in life. Note progress, perseverance, attitude and inner strength. Be affirming, kind, believing and coach towards success.

5. Stop feeling guilty. Feeling guilty changes nothing. You are going to make mistakes. Accept you aren’t perfect - then get up and try again.

6. Stop worrying about what others think of you. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what they think. Choose your own goals for your life – you’re not accountable to them.

7. Don’t worry about set backs or changes to your plans. Plans always need adjusting and things always go wrong – but that doesn’t mean “it’s over” or you’ll never reach your goals. Expect to make some changes – just be adaptable.

V’s blindness

hello my name is void n i am lowkey (highkey) obsessed with eyeballs. i read a lot on the subject of injuries and diseases for shits n giggles in my part time n i just rlly ;lilke eyeballs ok. dont.,,,, judge me

 i wanna discus’ v’s eyes and why its so mcfreaking w ei r d to me. certain things doesnt add up

also spoiler alert if that isnt obvs but yea boi

Ok so all artists and fanfic author have some sort of different idea to how Rika blinded V, which is chill and I love them all. But in canon there are a few basic things that have been stated or implied very specifically about V’s eyesight and I wanna piece it together.

1) It’s supposedly curable with a surgery. 

2) It’s deteriorative (V was able to drive around relatively well initially, could still take pictures for a while but as time progressed his eyes gets worse until he’s completely blind in the Secret Ending)

2.5) Bonus factor that could just be bc of art style: his eyes clouds when he’s completely blind.

3) The injury that Rika inflicted must have been pretty small scale and with specific intentions to blind him if he doesn’t receive any other injuries/damage to his face or head.

With those three factors in mind, we can pretty much wipe out any burns/chemical burns. If Rika took a pot of acid and doused him in it, he’s gonna be disfigured as well as blind unless she straps him down and intentionally takes an eyedropper to apply it only to his eyes. We can also very easily remove any severe traumatic head injuries because a lot of the time, those head injuries are permanent and also affects other parts of his body. Anything to do with retinas should also be left out since that can’t be fixed with surgery, and so should blindness from loss of eyeballs bc ofc he still has his eyes they just dont work. Heck, Jumin pretty much told everyone what exactly was wrong with V’s eyes in Yoosung’s route (I think), but his answer doesn’t sit very well with me and I will tell you why in a sec.

4) Jumin said it was corneal scarring.

This satisfies 1, 2.5 and 3 easily. Keratoplasty is quite easy and accessible if Jumin is a freakin billionaire or some shit, and the surgery has relatively high success rates (but yknow with any transplant there can be things that go wrong). Corneal scarring can cause your eyes to go cloudy. It also can be relatively easily inflicted without any damage to other parts of V’s face (scratching, throwing sand at his eyes, etc,,) But of course there are three main factors up there and… 2 doesn’t quite fit.

Thing is. Corneal scarring isn’t deteriorative until it becomes something else.

Everyone who has acquired a scar will know exactly that that scar doesn’t spread and stays the same even if you acquired it as a child and grew up (unless the injury is not fully healed and keeps getting aggravated/reopened)— it’s the same thing with eyes, so V’s eyesight shouldn’t be deteriorating 1.5 years after he was injured just because of corneal scarring. The initial injury should have already healed if he is able to keep his eyes open with relative ease and they aren’t bloodshot and tearing. His vision would be limited but it shouldn’t be getting any worse if he doesn’t have any other conditions that could affect them. 

Now we look at another factor.

5) V refuses surgery. But does that mean he refuses all treatment?

Complications can arise if you leave an injury unmonitored. What many people doesn’t know is that even people who are blind still have to get check up regularly to make sure their eyes aren’t getting worse (yes they can get worse). Heck, sometimes they have to get checked up more often than sighted people because they cannot judge for themselves how their eyes are doing without their sight. So what can corneal scarring leads to if dear ol’ V refuses to even go to a doctor for a check up?

Infections, cataract, glaucoma to mention a common few. V passed the open wound stage already though since it has already scarred over, so infection is no longer an issue. The other two, though? Them springing up after 1.5 years of no monitoring and continuous treatment sounds about right. And yes, dear readers, those two are deteriorative. And I wanna bring up a final factor that’s mentioned.

6) V can still drive up until he’s completely blind.

No, not all eyeball conditions are the same, obviously. A lot of people like to think that your eyes just go blurry myopia style but that’s not the case a lot of the time. How his vision deteriorates can play a large role and of course, cataracts and glaucoma affect the field of vision in different ways. Cataracts is the clouding of the lenses in your eyes, and it blurs your vision. It’s like looking through a foggy window. Driving through fog is already dangerous a s f u ck, not to mention that sometimes cataracts also creates blind spots that can appear in the middle of your field of vision and if that doesn’t sound like a driving disaster then idk what is. 

Glaucoma, though? Well… there’s a reason why most people don’t realise they have glaucoma initially until it has progressed and claimed large parts of their vision.

Glaucoma reduces your field of vision. Periphery goes first, but the central part of your vision remains crystal clear a lot of the times if you have no other complications. We rely on our central vision the most, so your daily lives are not affected until one day you realise that you have to turn your head a lot more before noticing something that’s just to your left. Seriously. It’s so subtle that you don’t notice you are even losing your vision in the first place. A lot of people even drive and ride bikes when their glaucoma has already— oh wait.



Bonus fact;;

Blindness from glaucoma is permanent.

Is Jumin and V aware of that?

ps. its also highly likely that cheritz just havent done enough research, or they bent a few rules bc of plot but goddamn i want v to remain blind ok. either that, or magic is involved. and magic changes everything. so how abt a second theory, eh?


“I…wasn’t gone…for that long.”

Originally posted by supernatural-imagine-fanfiction

@deanssweetheart23 tormented me with this gif and most of the dialogue, so now I’m torturing back. Let’s call this a joint effort.

You leaned back in your chair with a yawn, stretching your arms up above your head. God you were exhausted, but you had to get this paper finished. It wasn’t due until tomorrow afternoon, but you knew that if you kept putting it off it would just get worse. Besides, despite your phenomenal procrastination abilities, you really hated rushing to finish things at the last second. You were more of a get-it-done-the-night-beforehand even-if-that-means-an-all-nighter girl. 

You squinted at the word document open on the screen, watching the little cursor appear and disappear at an almost hypnotizing rate. Writing it really shouldn’t be that hard, and you were making steady progress, it was just a lot slower than you’d like it to be. You risked a glance at the digital alarm clock across the room and immediately regretted it. It was far beyond late at night and had become early in the morning. When you looked back at the screen, your eyes began watering and you wiped at them tiredly. God the screen was bright… why the hell didn’t it dim anymore than that? 

“Sweetheart?” Dean’s low voice cut through the silence, making you jump. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, peeking up over the top of your laptop to look at where he had propped himself up on an elbow on the bed. “Sorry, is it too bright? I can go to the other room,” you said quickly, worried that you had woken him. 

“No, no it’s not that,” Dean said, his voice thick with sleep, “why aren’t you in bed yet?”

“I’m a little busy, D,” you reminded him with a small smile at the sight of his bedhead. Dean huffed out a sigh and collapsed back against the pillows. “I really can go outside if I’m bothering you,” you said in concern, but Dean just shook his head.

“S not that,” he mumbled, making you arch an eyebrow.

“Does the mighty Dean Winchester want to cuddle?” You teased, a full blown grin spreading across your face now. Dean groaned again, rolling his eyes as he flipped onto his side to face you.

I do not cuddle,” he informed you with a scowl. 

“Sure you don’t…” you chuckled, glancing back to your computer screen. 

“I just sleep better when you’re here, alright?” Dean admitted, rubbing his face and then running his hand through his hair. “Now come to bed already. It’s- shit, Y/N it’s two in the morning!”

“One more paragraph,” you bargained, blinking a few times as you tried to refocus on the page in front of you.

“Nope,” Dean mumbled, “need to hold you. C’mere.” When you looked up again, Dean’s eyes were bright from where he watched you, his head resting against the pillow. You had more to do, but dammit he looked so comfy.

“I gotta finish this, D…” you said, but he heard the hesitancy in your voice, saw the weakness. And god damn that man, he pouted. Those perfect lips combined with his puppy dog eyes completely did you in. You just couldn’t say no to him. With a little groan, you flipped the screen shut, making Dean’s face light up in a grin. You pushed out of your chair and made straight for the bed, where Dean had scooted over and pulled back the covers for you. 

A little sigh escaped your lips as you hit the mattress, letting the exhaustion finally wash over you. Dean pulled you in against him immediately, tangling his legs with yours and wrapping an arm around you. You giggled as he nuzzled against your neck, but your eyelids were already so heavy you couldn’t keep your eyes open. You barely felt Dean plant a soft kiss against your hair before you were asleep.

Sick Failure.

*Slight Shiro Angst*

Everyone has had that day, where they wake up, and immediately they realize they are sick.

They wake up, and maybe they sneeze too many times in one morning, or their throat hurts more than just lack of hydration. Maybe it’s itchy, or has that awful sickly sting. Irritated.

Maybe their eyes are runny, or their nose.

A bit more fatigue than just waking up in the morning, or maybe they feel their body heat more than what was usually the case.

Usually there is a headache.

Lance felt all of this when he woke up, but at a lighter scale.

“Oh geez…” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.

Why did he have to be sick?

“No no…” He dragged himself out of bed, tossing his pillow in annoyance.

If Lance knew Allura, or even Shiro, they were going to be doing extensive training today.

He dressed himself, throwing on his jacket besides feeling too hot for the thing.

Just have to sweat it off. His Dad always told him that, to his mother’s disapproval.

The blue paladin smiled at the memory, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Oh Mama.”

He made it to the dining area, and could already smell Hunk’s cooking.

Yum. That was a good start.

Lance listened in on everyone’s conversation, eating slowly.

He wasn’t much of a talker when he felt so sick.

After breakfast, Lance’s earlier thoughts were confirmed.


He wasn’t even upset as he was beat by everyone, and when he couldn’t even get past the first level with the bot. Lance had an excuse, he was sick.

Whenever Hunk or Coran, or anyone for that matter, asked if he was feeling okay, he’d answer with:

“Just a little head cold.”

No one questioned him after that. But also no one told him to get rest or to help his sick.

He had to do a double take when Keith told him to, ‘Sweat it off, wimp.’

By the end of the day, he could hardly walk straight. He stumbled constantly.

Lance skipped lunch and dinner, and even the little charades game the mice put on.

He had one hand against the wall, shuffling off to his room.

Didn’t anyone think he needed help?

No one had seemed worried about him at all today, and now it bothered Lance.

He felt like he was dying or something, which was only a slight exaggeration.

But all he had to do was make it to bed, and he’d rest it off.

That would be all it would take, right?

The blue paladin shivered where he stood, needing to take a break. His body was burning up, he knew. But it felt like he was in a freezer, despite the sweat dripping from his tanned forehead.

You could cook bacon on the guy, come on.

He found his victory when he finally made it to the door to his room, and flopped onto his bed upon entry. This was good, he made it. Now, sleep, and he’d wake up fine. Just a little head cold.

There were bacteria in space, yeah? Just a cold.

Lance fumbled for his blanket, putting it over himself and curled up tight.

“Ah…” His shoulders relaxed, and he closed his eyes.

Maybe that was a little better, yeah. His headache seemed to ease up a bit now that he didn’t have to focus on looking ahead of him.

And within ticks, the man was off to sleep.

Oh. God.

Lance woke up, immediately whimpering with tears mixing with the sweat he practically bathed in. It was gross, yeah.

How long had he been sleeping? Three hours? Maybe seven?

He sat up, and a wave of nausea washed over him. Oh geez.

Lance could barely see, and his shirt clung to him.

He definitely felt a whole lot worse, and Lance was honestly worried.

A glass of water would probably help. Lance hadn’t had much to drink today, which was crucial to feeling better. That was his fault, but it was an easy fix.

Lance stood up, but not for long.

He fell against the wall and slid, a frustrated whine coming from the boy.

He wanted someone to come and help him, he couldn’t do this.

Lance wiped his face, hands shaking drastically, and sniffed. It hurt.

He felt way too hot, like his insides were boiling as if they were in a personal hell.

Lance could barely breath, his lungs gasping with each breath. That burned.

“J-Just need some water…” He whimpered, steadily (not) getting to his feet and tripped out of his room. The wall became his best friend, but the lights, not so much.

His barefeet stuck to the slick floor, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the loud breathing woke someone up. Maybe that was a good thing, he needed someone.

There was something very wrong going on with him.

As he stumbled, it got progressively worse. The fever was spiking to even more dangerous temperatures, and it kept getting harder and harder to breathe.

Lance was seeing spots. He was so dizzy, the nausea overwhelming.

And then he saw nothing.

The blue paladin had fallen over, completely passed out.

His chest rattled with each breath he tried to force out, and his fever still went ever higher.

Lance was hotter than Arizona in the middle of July.

Which wasn’t supposed to be a funny saying.

It was Shiro who found him.

It was Shiro who yelled for the others.

It was also Shiro, who tried to get Lance to wake up.

It was Shiro who was supposed to be the Dad.

It was Shiro who was supposed to care for his ‘kids’. The other paladins.

And here Lance lay, on the floor, so sick that he can’t function.

Had Shiro been too late?

This was more than just a head cold. More than anything he’d ever seen.

It was just like Matt.

Picky Princess *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Originally posted by mebeingbored1

Summary: Yourself and Bucky have a daughter. He spends a whole two days, alone, with her; much needed dad time. He figures out how picky of an eater she is, so he takes upon himself to have her taste all the foods he loves, - Prompt inspired by a video my uncle sent his brother, my dad. If you use this, tag for credit. 
Warnings: Bucky being a really sweet dad
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers
A/N: if use this prompt, please tag me, mostly for the fact I love this and would see other people take on this type of thing.- Ro

“Okay, the number for the doctor is on the refrigerator and if you need help, her usual babysitter, Daisy, the number is on-” You’re cut off by a pair of soft lips pressing against yours, you exhaled through your nose and kissed back. A little hand tapped against your cheek causing you to break away from your husband, smiling at the small girl in his arms. “You gonna be good whilst I’m gone?”

Becky nodded her head with a little pout. She didn’t like when either of you left, instead, she grabbed your hand and with her little strength pulled you to her and Bucky; a silent demand for you to stay. You let out a gentle sigh, looking from your daughter to your husband, who wore the same pout; proving to you that she is her father’s mini me. You kissed her cheek lightly, squeezing her hand before letting go and she let out a little whimper, you looked at Bucky who started to bounce the girl lightly and kissed your cheek.

“I’ve got everything under control, Y/N, we’re gonna be fine.” Bucky attempted at lessening your worries but truth is, this was the first time since Becky being born that Bucy would look after her alone. Completely alone. No, Steve or you, not even Nat. It was needed, he wanted to bond with Rebecca, although Bucky is single handily her favourite person, ever. He felt like he needed more… her and him time. 

And you were more than happy to accept a mission, having not been on the actual field in a while.

“Be good,” Bucky rolled his eyes as you walked to the front door, “I’m talking to you Mr Barnes, look after our daughter and the house.” He nodded, stealing one more kiss from you before you let out a little sad sigh and leaving out the door and softly shutting it.

Bucky strode to the window that looked out to the porch, pointing with his metal hand out of the window. Your daughter perked up, watching as you placed the duffel in uncle Steve’s car that would be driving you to the base for the mission you were going on. Steve from the driver’s seat was pulling funny faces at Rebecca, she giggled and waved, poking her tongue out but her happiness was short-lived when you waved and got into the car: driving down the dirt road of the driveway and out of sight.

“Just you and me now, doll.” Bucky sighed and placed Rebecca on the floor, she made a huffing sound before marching away and going straight to the front door, he chuckled and followed her, “where are you going?”

“With mummy,” she stated like it was obvious.

He crossed his arms as he watched his little human try to reach for the door handle leading outside. “C’mon, don’t you want to spend time with your old man?” He asked, pouting a little at the determination his daughter had for wanting to leave and not spend time with him.

It was the first time, in a long time, that he was able to spend time with just her. He had been the one to go off on missions, leaving you to care for Becky, and he tried to be around as much as possible but being an Avenger was… almost, equally, as difficult. He watched as Becky turned around, setting her little hands on her hips; something you do when Bucky says something stupid.

“I think, my little Binky, has forgotten how I’m the fun parent.” He grinned as she dead-panned stared back at him, slowly blinking in response. He’d seen that look before, on himself, when he was the Winter Soldier. “Fine, I’ll eat the ice cream on my own.” He dramatically sighed and strolled off to the kitchen.

The little patter of feet following behind made Bucky chuckle. He opened the freezer and pulled out the tub of chocolate ice cream, grabbing two spoons but only showing one, he swiftly turned around and noted his daughter watching him from the kitchen door. He sat on a stool, opening the lid and dipping the spoon in, sighing softly.

“Now, if only there was a girl to share all this ice cream with,” he said loudly, “I, possibly, cannot eat all this ice cream alone. But alas, I have no one, thus this spoon will be useless and unused.” He held the other spoon and placed it on the counter beside him, looking out of the corner of his eye to see his daughter no longer by the door, he frowned gently.

He felt a tug at his jeans, looking down he watched as his daughter, tried to climb into his lap. Huffing, she looked up and made grabby hands for him. He picked her up and settled her on his lap, watching as her small arms pulled the cold tub closer to the edge and using his spoon to eat ice cream. He wrapped his human arm around her middle, pulling her to his chest and resting his chin on her head. Becky would lift the spoon, offering a mouthful to Bucky, which he graciously accepted.

After the lunchtime ice cream, Bucky let Becky go off and play in her room, occasionally peeking in to see her having a tea party. He was sat watching tv when he heard his name being called from upstairs, he frowned and went to his daughter’s room, where she sat at her little Disney table. She nodded to the seat opposite her, sipping the imaginary tea from her little plastic tea cup. Bucky raised an eyebrow but pulled the chair out, questioning how he’d fit and sit on the chair, he did it anyway. His knees up against his chest, looking at his daughter with curiousness and confusion.

“It’s almost dinner,” Becky simply states and he nods once. “I don’t like vegetables or beans, I don’t like ketchup and I hate peas!”

Bucky eyebrows furrowed, “Sweetie, peas are a vegetable.”

“I’m not done talking,” Becky sighed lightly. “I just want nuggets, exactly six with some curly potato things!” She smiled happily, a little dimple forming on her left cheek as she grins at her dad. How could he resist that smile, it’s how he fell for you, and now he gets it double from her too.

Bucky knew she was a picky eater, picky princess, is her nickname from Steve and Tony. Bucky couldn’t blame her, she just likes things a certain way. What he hadn’t noted that in the five years she had grown progressively worse with food.

“Who are these guys?” Bucky asked looking at the stuffed bears and Barbies all in their own chairs. “Wait, I remember this guy. Dum Dum, good to see you, again.” He shook the short, light brown teddies paw, bowler hat settled on its head.

Becky giggled, “This is Barbie,” she nods to the blonde doll beside her. “That’s Stebe,” she pats the head of the build-a-bear Captain America, “and this is Mr Piggles, he’s very sensitive about his looks.” It was a tattered looking pig teddy, one eye missing and two legs were gone. Bucky nodded, smiling as he had conversations with Becky’s toys.

When dinner came around, Becky watched him like a hawk; making sure he didn’t pull any of mummy’s funny business. He had to sort this out, fast. She had to experience food, good food, and he’d be the one to do it.

“Hey, tomorrow wanna come with me to the store?” Bucky asked as they sat at the dining table, she had Bucky cut up her nuggets for her, well he insisted.

“Okie dokie!” Becky nodded with a smile, he grinned as she ate her dinner whilst telling him about school, her teachers and classmates. How she did a painting of a butterfly that’s hung up at the front of the class, telling him that her friend, Jess, has a treehouse and all the kids go over there to see it. She made a face when he agreed to make one with Sam and Steve.

After dinner and a quick tidy up around the house, Bucky and Becky sat down to watch tv in your bedroom. It was some a Disney movie, a classic that Becky, insisted her dad watched. Big Hero 6, Becky hugged her dad through his tears of utter sadness and astonishment the entire movie. After the movie, it was time for her bedtime, it was her bedtime an hour ago but the movie was too intense to just stop and carry on tomorrow.

“Night night, princess.” Bucky kissed his daughter after tucking her in.

He laid in his own bed, halfway between sleep and awake. He never slept that well when you were apart, he always felt safer and relaxed beside you. He heard the small steps outside the door, it being pushed open and the hallway light shining through into the room, he watched as Becky walked around to his side and pinched his human arm to wake him up.

“I thought you were sleeping?” He asked as he sat up, turning the bedside lamp on.

“I was but,” Becky sighed. “Hydra are in my room!” Bucky’s heart drops and starts beating faster, he quickly gets up, reaching under his side of the bed for the gun and he knelt beside her.

He held her face gently, “I want you to stay right here. Got it? Don’t come outta this room till you hear me!” Becky frowned and nodded, watching as he dad got up and stalked out of the room to her own. He was shaking with adrenaline, the thought of Hydra being so close to his daughter. Possibly waking her up and forcing her to go to her dad, as some messenger. 

He pushed the door open, the pink and yellow room illuminated by her nightlight, no sign of Hydra henchmen. He checked behind the door but nothing, his eyes flickering everywhere, maybe they want to another room to ambush him from behind. He turned fast, only Becky stood in the doorway.

“What’s going on Rebecca?” He asked voice a little rough and stern, something he didn’t want to be with her.

He watched as she fiddled with her night shirt, Iron Man pj set. “Hydra are under the bed,” she pointed to her low framed bed and Bucky frowned. “Mum, says Hydra are monsters and are the ones who hurt you. I don’t want them hurting me too,” He sighed as it clicked. “Mum usually takes care of them, even when you’re home, said that the monsters really hurt you; so she deals with them for us.”

In her little mind, Hydra is just monsters. Things that hide under her bed, lurk in the dark and something mummy has to ‘fight’ every night to leave her room. He nods for her to go back to his bedroom, she nods once and looking over her shoulder as Bucky, turns around and fake telling off ‘Hydra’. After a few minutes he walked back into his bedroom, seeing Becky laying on his side, he doesn’t question her picky behaviour as he shuffles into your side of the bed. Turning to lay on his side and look at his daughter, who did the same.

“I like your side of the bed because it’s further away from the door,” Becky mumbles, holding her teddy pig close to herself.

“I’m not gonna let any monster, including Hydra, hurt you.” He whispered to her and she nodded sleepily, he pulled her little body to him and kissed her head, letting her drift to sleep peacefully as he held her till morning.

*Next day- Shopping*

“Can we get cookies?” Becky asked holding her dad’s hand already steering him in the direction of the cookie aisle. He allowed her to lead him to the aisle she loved, pointing to her favourite in a very, cute demanding way. After getting her the cookies, he led her to her most hated aisle. Fruit and vegetables.

Becky had a disgusted face at every food Bucky picked up. Plums, peaches, strawberries and even bananas, and she told Bucky of her displeasure at being in the aisle. Even promptly tried to walk away.

“Why did you buy so much fruit?” Becky asked, “And broccoli?”

Bucky chuckled, causing his little girl to frown even more, not liking his smile as he checked out and carried her plus the bags to the car. “Carrots are a vegetable, not a fruit.”

Back at home, Bucky sat Becky on a stool, a massive grin on his face as he looks at his daughter who was already looking through the grocery bags for her cookies. The bag was taken away, Bucky giving her a stern look.

“I got all this food, my favourite food because Rebecca, today you aren’t going to be a picky princess.” He tells her and she crosses her arms, pouting in response. “Any time you try a piece of new food, you get a cookie!” That perked her interest.

Thus started Bucky to cook some broccoli, carrot and various other vegetables. Becky sat on her stool with her face scrunched, not liking the smell of the veggies cooking on the stove. She stuck out her bottom lip when Bucky brought out plums, grabbing one for himself he held one out for her, biting into his favourite fruit.

She held the purple fruit in her tiny hand, letting out a nervous breath she took a small bite and chewed slowly. Bucky was already halfway done when Becky made a disgusted face. It was too bitter and sweet, at the same time, for her to enjoy it. She placed the plum down.

“No, thank you.” She pushed the plums away, Bucky sighed and gave her a cookie for trying, eating the rest of her plum.

“Okay, we’ll give plums another go in five years,” Bucky sighed as Becky frowned. “Our taste buds change throughout our lives, Becky, today you may like chocolate but at my age, you may hate it.”

“I hope I die before I hate chocolate.” She told him seriously.

It was a long, aggravating journey of trying foods. So, far, she hated every orange food; carrots, oranges and sweet potatoes. Hated bananas, although, she liked grapes and broccoli. She refused to eat sprouts, simply just from the smell alone, he didn’t force her because he hates them too. A lot of cooked meats, shaped as various animals; turkey dinosaurs becoming her favourite.

“Just try one, one more,” Bucky pleaded as Becky shakes her head, keeping her mouth closed. “Steve likes them,” he grins and she shakes her head, he sighed holding the strawberry. “People usually have these dipped in chocolate,” he offered and Becky shrugged. Watching as he dad got the chocolate sauce, covering the strawberry and handing it to his daughter.

When you arrive back home, Sam and Steve in tow, insisting they wanted to see Becky before heading back to their own homes. You opened the door, not expecting to see Becky and Bucky in the kitchen, both eating strawberries and vanilla ice cream; various other foods, all foods in which Becky hates, well used to are around the counters.

“Mummy,” she yelled and ran over to you, you giggled and got down bringing her into a hug. Sam and Steve walked over to Bucky, congratulating him on keeping both him and his daughter alive whilst you were gone. “You’re early!” You chuckled at your five-year-old.

“What’s with all the fruit and veggies?” You asked, allowing her two uncles to give her attention.

“I decided to solve her picky eating problem,” Bucky shrugs and sets about cleaning, you raised your eyebrows. “I mean, she doesn’t like all vegetables but broccoli is now on her list, so is a lot of fruit.”

You chuckled a little, “I knew you’d be fine but I didn’t expect that.” You grinned, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him lightly and Bucky smiled and kissed back. A little cough made him pull back, Sam and Steve giving disgust faces, your daughter sat on the floor grinning as she told Steve about her day; she was completely infatuated with him, it was adorable.

After the guys saying their last goodbyes to Becky, you and Bucky, you turned and listened to Becky tell you how much fun she had. How Bucky played tea parties with her, watched movies and fought Hydra for her, you smiled as she told you that he brought her cookies and she ate everything but didn’t like a lot of it. You sat on the end of her bed, listening to talk and talk. She eventually talked herself into tiredness, falling asleep mid sentence.

“I think, I want to stay home a lot more,” Bucky announced as you both got into bed, you looked over at him with slightly wide eyes. “Just…I feel like I miss out on so much of her life, you know? And I want to make a treehouse,” you frowned again.

“A treehouse?”

“That’s not the point,” he sighed, “Just-I don’t know, I love what I-we-do and I could fight alongside Steve till the day I die but… these two days, I realised, I kinda just want to fight imaginary monsters for her and deal with a picky princess than a nit-picky Captain America.” His confession made you silent but you nodded with a little smile. “Is that mad?”

“No, it’s called being a dad.” You tell him, “and she get’s her picky tendencies from you, you’re as stubborn as mule.” He laughed silently and nodded in agreement.

You both fell into comfortable silence, softly breathing and not talking, you’d have to talk to Steve about what Bucky said in the morning. Arrange for someone to take over his missions, you wouldn’t mind going out and being on the field more: you missed fighting alongside Natasha.

In the morning, you look over as Bucky makes pancakes, Becky not even awake yet. You sipped your morning tea, going over what he had said last night. Steve was already round, Sam with him, both stopping by for breakfast after their morning jogging session.

“You sure about this Buck?” Steve asked sipping his coffee, looking at the back of his best friends head.

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah. Completely sure,” he looked over his shoulder with a little shrug.

“Wait, you’d rather do school drop offs and play dates than kick ass with me?” Sam asked in mock offence making you all laugh. “Two days alone and she got ya hooked,” Sam chided.

Becky stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her tired eyes and yawning, still in her Avengers pj’s. Her tiredness easily going when she see’s both Steve and Sam, running up and hugging both of them a morning.

“Rebecca, dad is gonna be dropping and picking you up from school,” you inform Becky as she is settled on a stool beside Steve. “He’s gonna be staying at home a lot more, as I go to work with aunty Natasha.” Everyone watches as Becky lets this news settle in.

Becky grins, turning to look at Bucky who smiles back. “Really?” He nods, she giggles with excitement, “I can’t wait to show you around my school!” You glance as Bucky grins, almost as excited as she is over that.

You sit down as Bucky plates up everyone’s pancakes, holding out whip cream and strawberries, plus other berries for everyone. He sits on the stool beside Becky, grabbing the can of whip cream and aiming it at her pancakes, she shields her golden circles with her hands. A deep frown on her face, almost angry.

“I don’t like whip cream.” Pulling her plate more towards Steve direction, making sure her pancakes are safe from any more food she hates. “Or blueberries, no more fruit.”

(So, I kinda went off track. It’s been a while since I’ve written for Marvel, sorry if this all just dribble. Let me know what you think. Also, may have used my nickname for my cousin Becky, I call her Binky sometimes. - Rosalee)

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The Return (Part 2)

Originally posted by theexpendablegirl

A/N: A part 2 because…Jeff. That’s it. Just because of Jeff. :D

Past Part: The Return

Pairing: Jeff Hardy X F!Reader

Summary: Your struggling to believe he’s here to stay and won’t hurt you again. Jeff just wants to make things right.

Warnings: Swearing? NSFWish?

Word Count: 1800+

You walked through the curtain, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You defended your title successfully. People patted your back as you walked past them. “Great match.” You looked up and see Jeff standing with his back against you locker room door.

“Yeah. Thanks.” You muttered, tucking your hair behind your ear. Jeff pushed off the door and stepped to the side, letting you open the door.

He followed you in, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Are you ever gonna let me make this right? You haven’t spoken three words to me since our talk.”

You dug through your bag, trying not to look at him. Jeff took a seat on the couch, his arms laying along the top. “I’m not looking to date anyone right now.”

He grunted. “I’m not anyone.” You stopped for a moment. He was right. He wasn’t just anyone. “It doesn’t matter, Jeff.”

You pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. “It does matter. I never wanted to hurt you. I told you why I did it! I told you I still loved you, even after all these years. I could never get you out of my head. I tried. I really did. I was stuck on you.”

You looked at your boots. “I’m still stuck on you.” You whispered.

You walked out into the parking lot, pulling your suitcase behind you. “Hey! Y/N!” You looked over your shoulder and seen the Hardys making their way to you.

Matt was the first to come walking up beside you. “Can we catch a ride with you? Ours left early.” You bit the inside of your cheek. You really wanted to say no. You really did. You couldn’t say no to Matt, he never did anything to you

“Yeah, sure.” Matt helped load all the bags in the car while Jeff took the passenger seat. You slid into the driver’s side and Matt climbs in behind you.

You honked your horn at the fans lining the outside of the building, waving out the open window as the fans cheered.

You leaned your head against your hand, while the boys chattered back and forth about the show. Your mind was playing over everything after your breakup.

You wiped away your tears with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You placed framed photos and books into a box. Jeff was seated in the living room watching a football game.

The sound of the announcers told you he didn’t care that you were packing your things or that you couldn’t even stop yourself from hiccuping from your heavy crying.

You pulled your bag over your shoulder and picked up the box. Opening the door to the bedroom, your eyes flicked over to Jeff on the couch. He was now laying on it, ankles crossed, arms behind his head.

You look up, trying to will yourself from crying. “Bye, Jeff.”

He grunted and through his hand in the air, not saying two words to you.

What you didn’t know was tears were welling in his eyes, his hands were clenched as he tried not to go after you.

“Take exit 14!” You were jerked from your thoughts when the GPS sounded through the now quiet car. Jeff looked over at you, raising a brow. “Are you okay?”

You tightened your hand around the wheel. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Matt shifted in the backseat making you look through the mirror, he was sleeping.

“When did he fall asleep?” You asked, flicking your blinker on. Jeff shrugged. “Around twenty minutes ago.” You nodded your head.

“Are you hungry?” Jeff nodded his head quickly. “Starving.”

“Let’s seen, it’s 12:25. I highly doubt there are any restaurants open, but we can get fast food or stop at a gas station and pick something up there.”

Jeff reached around and hit Matt in the knee. “Huh? Are we at the hotel?” He asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “No. We want to get something to eat. Do you want fast food or gas station food?”

Matt slumped back into his seat. “I don’t really care. Whatever you guys want.”

You pulled your bags behind you, Matt and Jeff following. You got paired with the duo for the night. You scanned your keycard and opened the door, pulling your things in behind you. You held the door with your foot, letting them pass you into the room.

You let the door swing shut behind. The boys had quickly shoved pass one other and tossed their suitcases on what bed they wanted. Leaving you with the couch shoved against the wall.

wanted. Leaving you with the couch shoved against the wall.

You sighed and pulled your things to the far end of the room, tossing your bags on the couch and plopping down next to them.

Jeff began pulling the food from the bags as Matt rummaged through his suitcase. “Here. This is your order.” Jeff said, waving the bag of fast food in the air.

You pushed yourself from the couch and took the bag from Jeff. He then handed you your drink. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch you know? I wouldn’t mind you sleeping in my bed.”

“It’s fine. I’ve slept on worse things than a couch.” Jeff frowned. “I’m sure. But really I don’t mind. The bed is big enough to share.”

The night quickly progressed from there, everyone ate, showered and now was getting cozy in their respective spots. Everyone but you. The couch was like a rock. No give, no plush and it was long enough.

You sigh and looked over to the boys. Matt was just closing his eyes, spiraled across the whole bed. Jeff was laying in his bed, one arm tucked behind his pillow, the other laid across his stomach.

You sat up and pulled your blanket with you when you stood up. You shuffled over to Jeff’s bed and just looked at him. He smiled, patting the space next to him.

You crawled in and laid your head against his shoulder. He shifted, wrapping his arm around you. “Are you ever going to let me fix this?” Jeff whispered. You closed your eyes.

“I know you said you were here to stay, I just can’t shake the feeling that you’ll break my heart all over again.” Tears welded behind your closed lids.

Jeff ran his fingertips up your back, his lips ghosting across your forehead. “I’m not going to break your heart again.”

“Open your eyes and look at me.” You didn’t move. “Come on, Darlin’. Look at me.”

“Slowly you opened your eyes and looked at him. Jeff brought his hand up to your face and brushed his thumb under your eye. “No crying. No tears.”

Jeff tucked some loose hair behind your ear and then cupped your cheek. “I won’t do that. I won’t let you go ever again. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

You leaned forward and placed your lips against his in a needy kiss. You needed to feel his lips again. You needed to feel his hands roam your body, gripping your hips, brushing across your back, pulling at your hair, brushing down your legs. You needed to feel his beard brush across your neck, chest, and thighs, leaving marks in his wake…You needed him with every ounce of your being.

The loud snort from Matt forced you two to break away. “I forget he was in here!” Jeff whispered. You struggled to hold back laughed as you buried your face into his chest.

Jeff cupped the back of your head and buried his face into your hair, laughing quietly. The bed underneath your bodies shook from your laughter.

You use your key to enter the apartment that was once yours. Jeff would be at the gym, which would give you enough time to grab a few things you forgot and give back something to Jeff.

You removed the apartment and mail key, placing them on top of the photo you were giving back to him. It was his favorite photo of the two of you.

If you were being honest with yourself. You didn’t drive all the way over here to grab a few shirts you left, or return the keys. It was because of this photo.

His favorite photo. The one where you were asleep on his lap, your head resting against his shoulder while he played video games, a throw blanket draped around you. Matt took the photo after seeing just how stupid you both looked

Jeff never thought it was stupid. He loved that photo. He always wanted you to take it out of the frame so he could put it in his wallet. You never did. Not until now.

Lodged between Jeff’s cash in his wallet was that photo. You pushed the photo out just enough with your finger to see he folded himself out of it.

“Did you find it!?” Jeff yelled across the parking lot. You quickly pushed the photo back into place, flipped the wallet shut and slid from the car, shutting the door. You waved his wallet in the air, signaling that you did find it.

You would never have thought he would have a photo of you in his wallet. Still after all these years.

You didn’t know why it surprised you really. You still had a photo of Jeff in your wallet. Only it was far better tucked away.

You handed Jeff his wallet and smiled at him when he thanked you for going back to look for it.

“I…I have a photo of you in my wallet still.” You said, looking up at him. Jeff glanced at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I never could take that photo out. Every time I tried I felt like I was taking my heart from my chest.”

Jeff stopped then and opened his wallet, he looked at you from under his lashes before taking the photo of you from his. “I put this in my wallet after we broke up. At first, I told myself it was to remind me as to what I lost, but really it was because I needed to see your face.”

“Jeff, I love you. But I’m scared. I’m not going to lie. I’m scared that if we go down this path again and we don’t make it…It’ll destroy me.”

Jeff looked at you, his eyes glassing over. “I’m not going to hurt you like that again.”

You smiled sadly. “I know. That’s why I want to really, truly give us another chance. No beating around the bush. Me and you together again.”

Jeff smiled and pulled you into his body, he kissed your lips in a rough quick manner. “We tell each other everything. No matter what. No lying. No cheating. Nothing like that. If something has to be said, say it the way it has to be said.”

Jeff nodded his head. “I’m never letting you go. Like I said. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Imagine Odin sending Loki to Midgard, giving Fury the tools that would keep him in line and make sure he cooperates with them on missions. The tools apply a kind of mind torture on him (preying on his worst fears), and they’re used abundantly. Only a few trusted by Fury know of it, not the Avengers (Thor isn’t there, as he is fighting wars across the nine realms). Very often, Loki is ’corrected’ for minor things, like not using his magic the way he was instructed to, or not being able save an Avenger/Agent from getting injured on a mission. Also, for attempted escapes.

The Avengers note the change in his demeanour, as he simply remains silent and aloof on missions, but no one pays any mind to it, thinking he’s sulking for being forced to do good instead of evil. You’re Loki’s designated guard and you know what’s being done to him. You hear him crying out in agony every time he’s ’corrected’. You see him progressively become worse for wear, and decide to tell the Avengers. The Avengers initially don’t believe you, thinking you’ve been manipulated by him, but you show them video evidence.

The Avengers finally rescue him, with your help, but Loki remains kind of indifferent to it all, showing no relief for it. When asked about the details of his torture, he shrugs it off and says it was nothing much, that he was merely pretending. But you often watch him when he thinks he’s alone, and the flippant facade slips, showing his damaged state of mind. You make it your purpose then, to try your best to help Loki. Surprisingly, he isn’t averse to your company or to your suggestions and attempts to make him feel better. And slowly, a friendship forms between you two.

But then Odin once again intervenes and demands that Loki be sent back to Asgard.