#my brain and phone are a like a wasteland

[youcancallmesina]

Alfred: Everything is gonna be fine! It's. Just. A crush.

Arthur: Good morning.

Alfred: I'm in love with you.

Arthur: ???

#I'm back at it again lol #i honestly don’t know where this is fro. #i was just going through my notes and found it saved under 'random usuk quotes' #my brain and phone are a like a wasteland #but yeah now we have Alfred gay panicking tm #hetalia #usuk #hws america #hws england #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland #beiei #incorrect hetalia quotes

[stayandot8]

Y(our) World

Genre: angstangstangst

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend until they're...not

Important Contents: reader getting jealous and lashing out at Chan, igniting a breakup that neither wants to happen; letting the intrusive bad thoughts win

a/n: I'm sorry that I'm not sorry. this hurts me more than it hurts you, I promise.

WC: 3.2k

masterlist l part two

The TV was filling the room with a silent buzz, the picture coming into focus of my boyfriend and his group members, performing at some music award show. They all had their own ways of performing, each striking in their own way. My eyes flitted to each of them, lingering always on the boy I loved. The way he moved usually left me breathless, always causing my brain to short circuit. This time was no different, watching them move as one unit, each a moving piece in a bigger machine in their performance. 

Curled up on the couch in his shared apartment, I grabbed my phone, ready to send him my usual text straight after a performance. 

Me: You surprise me every time you perform. I don’t think I could ever get tired of it.  

Usually watching them would fill me with pride, knowing he was mine and he was so good at what he did. Tonight was not the case. All I could think about was how busy he was this month. It was performance after performance and appearances at music awards. I couldn’t be prouder of them, truly. But this time, this night, I felt the pang of sadness hit me out of nowhere. Watching them move across the stage accepting their award, I couldn’t help the thought process I fell down. Wow, they look so good tonight. Oh look! He’s talking to that girl from that group he likes.  I wonder what she said to make him laugh like that. Wow, she’s really pretty… I don’t think I could ever look like that. Her whole group is really stunning. I bet they’re having a great time. They probably have so much to talk about…

That was when it hit me. I was never going to understand him and his job like she would. Like any of them would. The pressures of his work, the hardships he was facing, I could try. But I was never going to get it. Not like he deserved. He deserved to have someone that could do that for him. 

Deep in thought, I brought my empty plate to the sink, mindlessly washing it. My mind was a wasteland of thoughts, each bouncing from one disheartening idea to the next. The occasional ‘no, he’s not like that’ would come in, only to be drowned out by the opposite. 

Was all this important to him? Would I want to try and fit into his world like that? The answer was an immediate no. 

Done with the dishes, I shuffled my now heavy feet back to Chris’s room, desperate to quiet my racing mind. Maybe I should bring this up to him… This was my last thought on the subject before I passed out, not even bothering to pull the blanket over me. 

***

I was pulled from my unsuccessful slumber by the sound of movement across the room. I pulled my sleep-deprived eyelids apart to see Chan moving things around on his desk and mumbling to himself, his back to me. 

“Morning.” I said quietly, my voice still hoarse from disuse. He turned to me with a grimace. 

“Morning, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” His voice was quiet, probably from his own exhaustion. 

“Actually,” I said, sitting up and groaning in the process. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh okay. Can we talk about it while I grab something to eat? I only have a few minutes until I need to be back at the company.” He nodded and gave me a half smile before he exited, expecting me to follow suit. I huffed. 

“Okay…” I said to myself. So it’s going to be one of those days… I crawled out of the sheets and slowly made my way down the hallway, following the familiar smell. I emerge to find Chan rustling around in the fridge, more mumbling to himself. It made me smile at his turned back. I have to give him a chance, right? I took a deep breath to gather my courage. 

“Chris?” He paused his ruffling and slowly turned to me, his eyes wide like a child caught stealing. 

“That sounded serious. Okay, I’m all yours.” He closed the fridge and brought his full attention on me, his hands folded on the kitchen island. HIs eyes scanned my face for any indication, which I refused to give him.

“Well, just watching you last night, it made me…well… I was wondering if there was any way you could bring me with you tonight?” His brows lifted in slight surprise then fell.

“I’m not sure I can bring you actually. I don’t know what the rules are for that. I can ask though, but I make no promises, okay?” I nodded, not knowing what they could possibly say about it. Their company was weird about these sorts of things, it would be hard to predict. “Okay, I’ll ask when I get in, alright? I’m off.” He crossed the room to peck me on my cheek then left without a look back, the door mocking my annoyance as it shut. 

I got a phone call from him about two hours later. 

“Okay, they said you could come but there are a few rules we have to abide by. You can’t sit with us, which, trust me, Han is more upset about than anyone else.” He earned an involuntary chuckle from me. 

“I figured I couldn’t sit with you guys so that’s no surprise. What else?”

“Unfortunately, we can’t talk to you alone either. Something about cameras seeing you and getting suspicious. I don’t know but I already hate it. You pretty much can’t act like you know us. And we have to act the same.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stayed silent. 

“I know, baby, I don’t like it either. But this was what they told me. If you want to come, I’d love for you to. But I understand if you’ve changed your mind. They’ll send a car for you at six. They’ll wait ten minutes for you and then they’ll leave. It’s up to you. I hope I’ll see you there. I have to get back now. I love you.” 

“Love you.” I hung up before he could, now with a decision to make. It wasn’t really a hard one. Of course I was going. Now it was just a matter of what dress I would wear. 

***

Riding in the car was so awkward, it was a wonder I wasn’t out of my mind by the time I arrived at the venue. Stepping out in the highest heels I owned, my dress was hitting the pavement behind the very, very loud space. It was a wonder anyone could think straight in there. I followed the manager assigned to me as she led the way through to my place at a table far away from anyone else. Once we found it, she gave me a curt nod and left me to my own devices. Grabbing the back of my chair, I surveyed my other companions, each near to their seat as they conversed with those around them. 

The space was grander than any I had seen before, everywhere I looked there was another person I had seen on TV, another face plastered on billboards in the outside world. The stage was massive, different microphones spread across for everyone to grab as needed. The tables were all covered in white tablecloths, water bottles at every setting. I moved from heeled foot to heeled foot, trying to find some sort of friendly face that I could talk to. Everyone looked engaged in their own conversations however, so I simply sat down while I looked at the placecard in the middle of the table, simply saying ‘Reserved’ on a plain white card. 

A good-looking young man sat next to me, waving to the man he had just finished talking to. When his eyes finally reached me, he gave me a once-over as I did the same to him. He whistled. I was taken aback, raising a brow to him. 

“So you’re dating an idol too, huh? I can see why.” He smirked at me, a glimmer in his eye, full of knowing. My eyes squinted at him in suspicion. 

“How’d you know? Is this the ‘I’m dating an idol but no one can know’ table?” I leaned in towards him, ready for him to tell me if this statement was true. He nodded sadly, not knowing that his nod would send me into a spiral for the rest of the night. 

“This is my sixth time at one of these things. Everytime I see her ignore me, it kills me just a little bit. And it doesn’t get any easier unfortunately. But seeing them perform still fills you with pride, doesn’t it? As long as that feeling never goes away, you two will be just fine. Trust me.” I nodded in agreement, letting my thoughts wander again. How many times would I be invited along? Would Chris even be able to see me from up there? Would he even be looking? That was the moment I saw them walk in, all eight of them bowing and clapping as they settled in at their table across the room. I watched him, my chest getting heavier as he sat with his brothers. All around him, other members of other groups would stop and talk to him, casting his contagious smile to them as they talked. It should’ve made me proud but I couldn’t help but feel as though a balloon had popped and I was deflating. Soon I would fly around the room, praying I would land in front of him so that he would look at me. As the third person left him at his table, I watched him pick up his phone and type furiously. He then raised his eyes to roam around the room. I hoped he was looking for me. My phone then buzzed on the table.

Channie ❣️: Where are you? Are you here? Please say you’re here

My fingers were slow to pick up my phone, my response coming too slowly to me.

Me: Yes, I’m here. Good luck. I know you’ll win.

I watched him read my text, his face confused. Han nudged him, a questioning look on his face. I could read his lips asking what was wrong. Chan shook his head and pushed him away before going back to his phone. His fingers flew across it again. My phone buzzed. 

Channie ❣️: Where are you?? I can’t find you

Me: Don’t worry about it, I’ll see you after. Smile pretty for the camera

That girl I had seen the night before came by his table again. I felt my heart quicken its pace, my swallow not quite going down easily. She gave him that easy smile I had seen on the TV, even prettier in person. He returned her easy smile, standing to return the hug she was inviting him into. The small gasp I emitted made the kind stranger turn to me again, his eyes following mine. 

“Ah, I see. I hate to be the one to tell you, but she’s been known to flirt with him at these shows. She’s had the biggest crush on him and she hasn’t been the most discreet about it.” My hands had clenched into fists, not able to take my eyes off the two of them talking. Every so often she would laugh and place her hand on his shoulder. The more I watched, the more irritated he seemed. But being the kind gentleman he was, he didn’t remove her hand from his body. It took everything in me not to stomp across the room and remove it for her. I couldn’t help hearing the blood boil in my veins, the pounding in my head inescapable. I couldn’t get a handle on my breathing until she walked away, her delicate hand lingering a little too long on his arm as she walked away. I watched her walk back to her group of girls, a sly smile on her lips the whole way. If I could make daggers with my eyes, she would’ve been flat on the floor before she even made it two steps. But I still couldn’t get this man seated next to me and his words out of my head as the show went on. 

She’s had a crush on him.

Maybe he wanted to be with someone who understood his life better than I did. She was an idol too, she knew the path and the hard work it took to make this career work for herself. I bet they wouldn't have to hide their relationship like we have to… 

The show went by quickly and before I knew it, I was back in the silent car being driven back to Chan’s apartment. I thanked the driver and his companion and slowly trailed to the familiar front door. I opened it, falling into it behind me as it shut. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, willing the tears not to fall, daring them back into my skull. I didn’t want Chris to see what I had been thinking. He always told me I was a terrible poker player, my thoughts always written on my face. I shook my head, telling myself I wouldn’t cry, I couldn’t. 

I trudged back to Chan’s room, kicking off the heels I had been so excited for him to see me in. Now they simply mocked me for what my hopes had been for the evening. I started undressing in the hallway, desperate to get any expectations I had off of me and deep in a drawer, buried and forgotten. 

I opted for my own clothes, grabbing my bag to pack what I needed. I decided I was going to sleep at my own place tonight, I didn’t… I couldn’t be around him tonight. He would get me to say everything I didn’t want to say with one look, one ‘are you okay’ would get me to spill my whole mind in front of him. But I wasn’t quick enough. I heard the front door close and slumped, bracing for the impending conversation. 

“Baby?” He called out to me, his voice drawing nearer to my location. I didn’t respond, opting to quicken my pace for packing. If I didn’t care about folding anything, if I left my toothbrush here, I might be able to get out before he asked too many questions. My plan was foiled quickly as he rounded the corner right into his bedroom. I couldn’t face him as I continued. If I had turned I would’ve seen his shoulders falling and confusion in his puppy eyes. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I think I need to sleep at my own place tonight. I just don’t…” I couldn’t finish the thought aloud, afraid I would say something I might regret if I didn’t leave now. I zipped up my bag and made for the door, unable to meet his eyes. He stood in my way, not letting me move. I backed away, staring at the carpet. “Chris, please move. Let me out.”

“No. What happened? Did someone say something to you? Please, baby, talk to me.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, similar to what that girl had done to him…

“Please, just let me go home. We can talk later.” I finally gathered enough strength to actually push past him and head for the door. I didn’t get far though before his voice stopped me again. 

“Was it that girl that stopped me? Did you see her keep touching me? God, I wanted to rip them off of me.” I said nothing. I would be fine if I could just make it to the other side of that door…

“So I guess this means you’re not coming to any other award shows then?” I stopped in my tracks, only a foot from my target. I took a shuddering breath, still fighting those damn tears. 

“At least she knows what it’s like, huh? She knows what you’ve been through better than I ever could. She appreciates all the work you put into everything you do. She wouldn’t text you late at night wondering where you are or miss you in the darkest hours of the night, trying to understand that you love what you do.”

“What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t belong in this world, Chris. In your world. I just can’t see where I fit. I never have and I don’t want to.” I still couldn’t face him, whatever I was going to say next would be my own undoing. Those tears finally escaped as he uttered his next words. 

“What’re you talking about “my world”? You are my world.”

“I don’t belong here. No one knows me, no one cares who I am. I just need to remove myself from the picture altogether so you can be with someone who understands you.” I wiped my tears then reached for the handle again, the grip on my bag tighter than ever. He rushed over to shut the door before I could open it, shoving himself between me and my saving grace. 

“No. That’s not happening. There’s no way I’m letting you go.” He tried to force me to look at him, but I shut my eyes and moved as he tried to grab my chin. I was quiet, choosing my next words carefully.

“Then I need to let you go.” My soul was being crushed the more I spoke, my resistance evident if he looked hard enough. He was quick to respond, grasping at anything to change my mind.

“But I refuse to let YOU go. You can think that but I will never stop caring about you, thinking about you, loving you. I will not let you walk away from this. I will fight for this. Why aren’t you fighting for this? What’s gotten into you?”

“Because sometimes the cost of battle outweighs the prize to be won. I am tired of having this same argument with myself. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to have to give up parts of myself to fit into a world I don’t want to be in.” He got quiet. His confusion was written in every crevice of his face, his eyes searching me for some sort of explanation. The next words he spoke were slow in disbelief. 

“So you’re just going to give up on us?”

“It’s too much work for me. Is it not exhausting for you?” I finally looked into his eyes, begging him to understand what I was saying beneath it all. I closed my eyes, exhaustion taking over my bones. His voice was low and shaky. 

“Not for me. Not when it’s you.”

That was when the dam broke. I fell against the wall, my knees giving out and crumbling underneath me. I buried my tears in my hands, the heaving becoming involuntary. I broke, my breath coming in shorter spurts, leading to inadvertent shakes taking over.

“That’s not fair.” The words choked their way out in between sobs. He was hunched over, eyes never leaving me as his own tears broke through. He lowered himself next to my hunched form, wiping his wet face. 

“It’s not my world without you in it.” A quiet pause, only the sounds of his sniffles and my sobs heard throughout the room. His voice was small, still shaking as he whispered,

“Just don't leave me.”

#bang chan angst #chan angst #chan scenarios #chan fic #bang chan #christopher bang #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan x you #chan x y/n #chan fanfic #skz bang chan #stray kids x reader #chan stray kids #stray kids chris #stray kids #stray kids angst #chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #chan drabbles #bang chan x y/n #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fic #chan skz #skz scenarios #skz boyfriend #skz #skz angst

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

The Worker and The Protestor

I finally finished my notebook *victory screech*. This is what ended off my notebook. I see this being revamped a bit to fit in with my actual Robots & Gardens not just a side off thing. Here we get a dive on Digits' work life and her little crush on Peace. I have so much shit to do XD But I have chosen instead to drink and type this out then get back to work. Me and this Jeager got me through this so I apologize for fuck ups now.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @liv-is (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

Digits grumbled beneath her breath. Lumber over either shoulder that should have been loaded onto one of the transport machines. Shitty little bots that had a variety of bed sizes. Most of the workers just referred to them as “luggers”. They were kinda like trucks with brains but way harder to love. At least you could camp out in a truck bed. These little fucks would toss you into the nearest pit, thinking you were just the next load of building material. 

Just as their name foretold. The damn thing busted. Go fucking figure. Some dumbass probably loading too much on a lugger with too small of a bed size. 

“Do you even think they tried to get decent ones? Swear this is the fifth lugger to bust this week. They don’t even get a pair at a time no more.” Brian, her roommate and favorite coworker said. 

Both grimaced at the lumber added to their stacks. The weight making their feet sink lower into the padding of their shoes. Arguably neither of them had much of that to begin with. Digits’ voice deepened, wavering as she took a step forward. Refusing for any more weight to be added to her bad shoulders. Still aching from a seize up in her arms that had happened a few days prior. 

“Only the best for our bitch ass employees.” Digits mocked, pursing her lips and sounding off with a kiss far more enthusiastic than she felt. 

Brian’s laughs left in huffs. Carrying his own load over broad shoulders. Uncovered at that, and yes everyone thought he was a weirdo for it. 

“Better be cautious.” 

Digits scoffed, “Or what they’ll find a way to fuck me up worse?”

“I guess. Carrying around all this isn’t gonna bust some hydraulics or something right?” Brian gave her that concerned look. 

That one that was hilarious when he had his bright green emotional support vape hanging from his mouth. Fruity clouds slowly seep from the cracks in his mouth. Slow, unmotivated puffs from his nose too. Headache-inducing, Fruit Loop scented, probably flavored too, clouds forming a field of fumes. It was amazing the man’s eyes never teared up from it. Instead, they drooped to focus intently on Digits. Urgently drifting back to the game. 

Arguably Digits still found his concern in her right now hilarious. 

“I don’t even know if my prosthetics have hydraulics,” Digits said.

“Haven’t you busted them like a dozen times?” 

“Doesn’t mean I know what’s inside of them.” 

“I really think that’s part of the problem.” 

“You’re really siding with the shit prosthetics. That are probably cooking some nerves in my arms?” 

With a quiet arrangement of grunts, she lowered herself to her knee. Muscles flexing beneath her clothing. She slowly leaned aside sliding the stacks into one of the feeders for bulk cuts. She rolled her eyes. Cursing when a stack had briefly tugged her by her high-vis vest. Brian forced the lumber into a tarped bed that would have been attached to a lugger. 

“We can’t afford to get them fixed if you bust them Digits,” Brian said breathless. 

“We can’t afford. It’s that simple.” Digits stated forcing her way free. 

Digits flexed her fingers individually, forcibly straightening out one. She rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie tugging the work issued phone from her back pocket. Arms burning from the strain. Artificial skin unhappily passing over the cracked screen. 

She tapped around blankly, eyes scanning the plans for the build and the objectives for the day. Eyes darting back to the time. 

“Looks like we need to have the general framework up. Can’t tell if they want a factory or a home though.” Digits joked a bit. 

“So we’ve been carting stuff around without any bot help for a fucking private home?” Brian silently fumed. 

“An estate,” Digits corrected holding back a laugh at the look on Brain’s face. 

He pulled down a pair of safety glasses, running his finger along the top of the lens. A yellow light flickering on in the corner, indicating he was viewing the plans. His fingers tapped absentmindedly at his tool belt. His high-vis vest hung limply from his back pocket. Brian grunted to himself. His eyes darting behind the glasses as he looked at the same schematics Digits was looking at. 

Charging feet of other construction members rushed past them. Some hoisting lumber. Some bullying the growing collection of busted machinery. 

“I’d start prepping the cuts but I think the gaggle needs some help.” 

“You can always set the cuts for the bulk sets. Hold out though.” Digits lifted her head suddenly far more interested in her surroundings, “The protestors will be around soon.” 

“Makes sense why those goofs are running then. Trying to look busy on the cameras.” Brian sounded like he was almost scolding them but he did linger around the cutter longer than usual.

Digits laughed softly. She unbuckled her vest, rolling her sleeves back down. 

“Yeah, and I’m gonna go see if the lasers on the cutters are actually working.” 

Brian laughed, “Uh huh. Might as well check if the machine is working.” 

“That’ll take up so much time,” Digits grinned enjoying their banter. 

“Enough time to have a personal moment with the red-headed deviant?” 

“No such thing as enough time for that.” Digits crossed her arms, face going redder than it currently was from the labor. 

The redheaded protestor had approached the grounds. Most of the workers slowing to look over in her direction. A dozen or so of her followers having filtered through to block cameras with signs. Probably advising against this land usage or maybe the waste of money this was. Digits wasn’t really sure. She hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood by asking. 

The redhead had paint staining her jersey and hands. Meaning she had probably made those signs. And had probably caused some other destruction on the way. 

Digits wondered if she should hate the protestors. Sometimes they did make their lives harder. But even Digits realized it was the company that forced them to deal with it at the end of the day. So the workers can only be mad at the people who hired them. Since the company they worked for had loved to totter the line of giving enough fucks for their workers. It was nice to have the company leads mad at additional people. Almost healing. 

The redhead's eyes found Digits. Digits grinned at the silent recognition, her eyes already on the protestor. Peace walked over to the woman, tapping Digits with her foot. The battered shoe knocked dirt off of Digits’ jeans. 

“Cameras aren’t watching. Think you’ve worked hard enough?” Peace asked leaning down some in attempts to minimize the distance between them. 

“Hey, Peace,” Digits grinned shoving her hands in her hoodie pockets, “Definitely.” 

Peace and Digits wandered off to a spray painted curb nearby. Digits sat first sighing content, even though she was resting weary muscles on cement. Peace followed shortly after sitting beside her. She placed both of her arms behind her, stretching her legs out.

“Anything special you want to talk about?” Peace asked curiously, tilting her head in Digits’ direction. 

Digits tugged at her fingers inside of her hoodie pocket. Not knowing if there was something big to mention. They had been getting closer as of late. But she refused to give too much away too soon. Arguably it might be too late for that anyway. 

Her eyes focused on Peace’s face. Glistening from the sweat, sun seeming to hit her skin just right. She noticed that she could spot Peace’s freckles more easily than usual. She blinked softly seeing the shimmer. 

“Not really. Thanks for the paid break though.” Digits laughed trying and failing to get herself to look anywhere else. 

“I’d do it for you anytime. It’s kinda fun pissing off the people that put money into being in charge of y’all.” Peace responded, flashing teeth as she grinned. 

Digits skinned flushed. She tapped her fingers anxiously on the curb now. Gawking at the beauty beside her. It felt nice not being surrounded by her coworkers all day. Even if her heartbeat was pounding at her temples. 

“Appreciated.” Digits spoke, struggling to keep her voice level, proceeding to ask, “Is that makeup?” 

Peace beamed now. All teeth, all excitement. She grabbed Digits’ hand dusting it off on the knee of her far less dirty pants. Fully unaware of the widening of Digits’ eyes. Peace guided her hand to her cheek. 

“Touch. It doesn’t even smear.” Peace’s joy radiated like the sun on them right now, damn there killer, “Green got it for me.” 

Digits tried to speak. Her words nothing more than off pitch babbles. Glad that nodding starstruck was taken as an acceptable answer. Sweat sliding down her forehead and almost into her eye as she tried to memorize the feeling of Peace’s skin. Face reddening as she trailed her hand along Peace’s jaw. Wishing the protestor would just kiss her hand. 

Peace quickly tapped the edge of her forehead to Digits’s. 

“See told you. Doesn’t even smear.” 

Peace grabbed Digits’s hand, holding it out. Her hand remained as unremarkable as before. But her busted hands got to touch the woman of dreams. 

Digits sighed, damn there dreamily, smiling with a little more teeth than usual “Yeah. She got you good shit.”

#writeblr #random writes #the gays are gaying #Digits is down bad #Still working out technology shit and Digit's job #Long post

[etirabys]

I was looking for airbnbs in my hometown (where I lived ages 7-18), since my sister has a kid now and the next time we all go back, we’re not going to fit into my parents’ apartment. I realized I couldn’t find the apartment visually in the airbnb results for [city] the way I can zero in on my house from a map of Seattle – I don’t even know if the apartment complex is north or south of the city center. All my Korea location-knowledge is stored as a mental linked list of subway stations (and it turns out I don’t know what direction those run in, either! – the knowledge is practically aspatial).

Anyway, I located my house and zoomed out to memorize map-landmarks so I could find it in the future – in the process reviewing various routes I took to schools and buses in the novel map view – and I was activated. I had some of the same chest and temperature sensations I do when I’m anxious. I always feel dread when I review things like a map view of my hometown, which is weird – I had a pretty happy childhood, wrapped in mile thick bubble wrap of obsessing about fiction every day.

The tentative explanation that sounds more correct than anything I’ve come up with so far to explain this feeling: when I came to the US I went through multiple iterations of “getting a new thing” -> “realizing I actually like that thing” -> “coming to think of having that thing as a need”. The most dramatic example is romance – until I was 20 I sort of considered myself a different species from anyone else and obviously couldn’t interface with people in a mating type way...

(While at an internet convention a few months ago, a con attendee I was in a car with told me that his mom had found him a helpful autism forum when he was a kid because he’d said, “Mom, I feel like I was born on the wrong planet”, she googled some part of this, and she found wrongplanet.com.)

...I’d had several irl crushes, I had a sex drive, but it wasn’t going to work if we tried to interlace gears. I wasn’t sad about this any more than a reader who firmly considers themself not to like horror would feel sad when in the horror section of a bookstore. Then I got a fwb who turned into a boyfriend, and it turned out I liked dating, and a few years after that I was someone who’d be sad if I never dated again.

There were multiple things like that, where I got a nice thing – sometimes a thing I hadn’t even been able to conceive of before – and then "continuing to have that” got added to my list of life satisfaction requirements. And as I get older, my fairly happy childhood seems more and more like a wasteland of deprivation, and it feels threatening to look at a map and review the route I used to walk to middle school. My brain is going, “Oh god, don’t put me back there. Don’t even remind me that kind of stunted existence is possible.”

(I notice that when I go back to Korea alone as an adult, as I did when I was a child, I sort of burrow into myself – I zone out, I’m on my phone, I think about fiction, I tend not to leave my room. It seems a little fucked up, in a subtle uncanny way)

This was soothing and cathartic to write. I don’t have anywhere further to take this, so I’m going to hit post and go bother my husband for affection.

#rambl #human stuff #irlfriends don't look

[bearbonespdf]

tired but i cant sleep so im postingggggggg

me and my pack (which we call ourselves as mostly a joke) did a secret santa/christmas party a couple days ago! ofc bc i (and a few others) have 0 chill, i got/made everyone a few gifts. when it comes to giving gifts, ESPECIALLY handmade ones, i get... nervous to say the least. but never fear! everyone had really good reactions to the gifts i gave! which im gunna list using "code names", which is lightly unnecessary but fun

Been There Done That: so i got him this tinnyyyyy lil keychain he asked for. its from a small artist we both like, she draws these cute lil girls with fruit themes and then make a moldy version of it! (@/feefal on insta) i also went through a bag of starbursts and gave him the pink and red ones cuz he only likes those and a lavender candle. the best gift, however, was a framed picture of our other friends ass :3 he laughed so fucking hard i was so so so happy he found it funny

Wheezer: i crocheted it a brown and green star crossbody bag! its lined with grey flannel fabric and has a phone pocket. unfortunately the strap was a little too long but i think he's gunna hem it. i also gave him a moon projector and a wasteland baby! hozier cd. it screamed when he saw the cd lol

The Ass: this beloved friend got some of my old lace chokers that i can't wear (aversion to things around my neck), a dog enrichment bowl, and some bracelets i made. i am REALLY proud of these bracelets. he has osdd and has 4 alters including himself (host) so i made 4 bracelets. each ine was specifically made to match how i perceive each alter and has a corresponding playing card charm (ace of hearts, queen of diamonds, king of clubs, and the joker) when i gave him the bracelets he got super excited and hugged me superrrr hard. the joker bracelet has a vivid warm color pallet using chip beads and round brass beads, the staple r 2 tiny silver dragonfly beads i found. the queen of diamonds is a mixture of these gorgeous maroon round beads and obsidian beads with a little bit of gold metal beads. the ace of hearts was almost entirely rose quartz round beads with a heart shaped one in the middle, two oblong opalite beads frame the card charm. finally the king of clubs is garnet and obsidian ship beads with a LOT of misc metal beads and a red evil eye bead.

Bird Brain: OK OK OK OK ok i am SO proud of myself on these gifts cuz im pretty sure they LOVED them. first i gave him a shirt, which is technically from Been There Done That, but we had argued about who git to keep the shirt when he was auctioning it off (i tried to let them have it and they tried to let me have it). They tried to give it back but i guilted him into keeping it :3. second i got him a stuffed lamb. pretty average right? WRONG! i found the exact same lamb stuffie that they had as a child and lost. so ofc i bought it, painstakingly hand washed it for a couple hours (we both have contamination paranoia so i HAD to make it CLEAN), slept with it sitting on my pillow for a few nights until the party (so it wuldnt get lonely in the box) and gave it to him. their reaction scared me for a second, cuz all they said was "it's my lamb" and stared blankly at it for a good few minutes. i realized pretty quickly that it was the opposite of a bad look, so that was a problem solved quickly. around the lambs neck were a couple bracelets i also made, one with bloodstone beads and a black evil eye and the other with purple goldstone beads, obsidian beads, amethyst chips, and a skull charm. the last gift was specifically tailored to their special interest and im SO PROUD OF MYSELF FOR THINKING OF IT and actually executing it well. i bought a hunting knife with a wooden handle so i culd carve a special lil symbol into it. the knife is called a godkiller knife from the slenderverse series everyman hybrid, it belongs to HABIT. when i tell u he SQUEALED and started stimming so hard i thought theyd fall over /hyp. we're on a trip rn and they brought the knife and lamb so id say i did good? i also actually have a plan to hand make them smth fun soon but he doesnt know what it is so shhhhhh im not saying it here :3

( @yourlocalcorvidcryptid )

Miss(ter) Peregrine: i feel horrible about it but im still not done with his gift. im crocheting him a blanket out of acrylic yarn in the shape of a star (hell evil satan) so i got him some other stuff to make up for it. i gave him some small rocks, magnetic bookmarks, and a green bracelet that matches his eyes all stuffed in an empty pill bottle. i also gave him some stickers and packing tape :) he was pretty chill about everything, he loved the blanket and was fawning over how pretty the bookmarks are so i think he liked it all.

( @pumpkinnsoda )

2D: this motherfucker was my secret santa so i got their ass a LOT. i got him a pair of crocs that have a light blue and beige marble that i knew he'd love cuz hes been talking about wanting crocs forEVER. i also got them 6 weed charms, 2 eggplant charms, and 2 Trolls charms from the Trolls 3 movie, for the sake of humor. additionally i got them weed print socks, which i used to hide the fact that i also got him a new underworks chest binder. he's been super needing an actually good binder so im estatic this one worked. i got them a bag of their favorite chocolate as a fun lil treat too. finally i also crocheted them a star bag! i used yarn they picked out and didnt have time to line it unfortunately :( but i think i made up for it with other stuff!!

Bagel Boys Dundundundun Bagel Boys Dundundundun Bagel Boys Dundundundun With Cream Cheese: SO IM ALSO REALLY PROUD OF ONE SPECIFIC GIFT IN THIS BATCH. i made it a sweater which was not crocheted, unfortunately. i was *shudder in horror* hand sewing a jack-o-lantern face into it. i don't think i did super well, much to my dismay. its ok i can make it up by making them smth else later on. i gave them a tiny little wooden turtle that i found since they really like ninja turtles. i gave it some earring making supplies that it asked for a while back. and lastly, my pride and joy, i got them the official wings of fire guidebook, hardcover. now this book contains 2 of the best things in the WORLD: dragons and world-building. from what ive seen my dearest friend has lost their SHIT over this book. theyve been reading it very slowly so as to savor it. its face when i gave it the book was BEAUTIFUL their jaw was DROPPED

( @astronomical-bagel )

Nyan Cat: ok last one! i gave them a pair of crocs as well, that i had them pick out while we were in the store together. they chose black and got like 4 cute lil charms (that i dont remember). i also gave them a pearl choker with fake blood dripping from it. i wore it to my prom but will never wear it again and i knew theyd LOVE it. i didnt get a chance to make anything for them, but i do eventually wanna crochet them a strawberry bag lined with very gothic fabric, as is their aesthetic LMAO

( @salemsmushroom )

ok thats all :3

#bear growls #irl shit #i love my friends SO much they will never understand

[burdened-boy]

2086 :: death rings thru my cell phone

Limbo, on a whim, journeys out to the wasteland to kill a random guy in cold blood. For money, of course.

Death Rings Thru My Cell Phone

I can imagine the orange sunlight painting the grass and dirt around me as fire. Gasoline pumped into the eternally hungry Toronado, the price of this fillup soaring into the three figures in under a minute. Even out in the wastelands, fuel of the most impotent quality was still so fucking expensive. Me and the car were alone at the sketchy old Gulf station, an empty concrete island floating in the aforementioned burning landscape around me. The flames around me raged on, giving way to a nighttime that was as dark as nuclear winter.

Silently, I watched the little wheels of the gas pump spin faster and faster, like a slot machine. On further thought, gassing up my car here was a lot like gambling; who knew if my supercharged block of 1970s iron would even run on this soup of various ethanol, additives and detergents?

Feeling a buzzing sensation on my thigh, I slid my phone out of my pocket. My cracked glass screen displayed a grim message: there was an open contract in my area. A future victim, running on borrowed time from the moment I felt my phone vibrate. I ruminated on the message for a moment, debating if I wanted to even bother with this clown or let someone else have it. Harsh white LED lights cast a shadow from my hand and wrist and onto the concrete slab on which I stood. Noticing the natural sun setting, I decided not to rest on my laurels just yet. The moment I stop is the moment I lose touch. 

With a click, the car was full. Jackpot. I nonchalantly slammed the nozzle back onto the pump, and muscle memory naturally lifted my finger to press the “no receipt” button. However, for a brief moment, instead of asking me if I even wanted a receipt, the phrase, “YOU WILL REAP WHAT YOU SOW” suddenly appeared, flickering and jarring like an old VHS subtitle. Heart jumping, I took a second look at the message, only to find that it was instantly gone. The screen on the gas pump went black all together after that, leaving me to look at my own reflection, completely dumbfounded. There was nobody around, not even an attendant to mention this to at this credit-card-only station.

The open can of Red Bull in my cup holder still fizzed as I eased myself into the driver’s seat. With a turn of the key and quick pump of the gas pedal, the supercharger before me whirred to life as I started the car, confused, and wondering if what I had just seen was even real. My head unit switched on and started playing my music, but as I eased out onto the desolate highway and floored it, I turned the volume all of the way down. I wasn’t planning on making some money tonight, but then again, idle hands are the devil’s playthings.

Hits in out in the wasteland are rare, which, come to think of it, make bugging out here a pretty solid idea if someone ever wants you dead. Just don’t expect much company. Or running water. My headlights sliced through the gloom as I sailed further and further away from the gray walls of Los Angeles, and out into the irradiated wasteland. 

A few minutes later, and the last verse of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now slowly faded away. In my peripheral vision, a small flash of light gets caught by my rear view mirror. It was an ultralight aircraft, a flimsy, triangular job existing somewhere between the form of an airplane and a powered paraglider. The mystery aviator was positioned at what was roughly my eight o’clock, and traveling in the same direction as me. Deep in my electronic brain-bucket, my eyebrows frowned, and my stomach dropped. I glanced at my surroundings, pondering just how desolate they were. A small, low-flying aircraft, out at this hour, over the dangerous wastelands? My first instinct was the raiders. They were reconnoitering me, and coordinating a roadblock not too far ahead. In this scenario, I would have tried to shoot the plane down, and use the hopefully injured pilot as a bargaining chip. This, in reality, was delusional, though. For one, none of my guns could reach that far. It was also entirely possible that this was some insane, incompetent hobbyist, and I would be wasting ammunition and courage on someone that was completely oblivious to what was happening. Even if it was a civilian, they shouldn’t have been out here.

Worse still, I couldn’t even turn off my headlamps. It was getting dark, and barreling into a raider blockade at highway speeds was obviously not how I planned to die tonight. I sighed, loaded my shotgun, and turned this into a race. According to my GPS, I was only on this empty highway for about fifteen more minutes. If I could shave some time off my ETA, maybe I would reach my target’s house before the hypothetical blockade would be completed. Then again, that was assuming they weren’t already ready for me, and more than fifteen minutes out. There really wasn’t all that much I could do, other than to be ready for a sudden stop and an armed confrontation. I wondered if these scrawny, meth-crazed jackals knew who they were dealing with.

Nevertheless, I pushed on, the yellow glow of my headlamps burning like eyes in the night. Gradually, the little airplane began to slip away, but it remained in my peripheral vision like a floater in my eye. Dread pinched my stomach, but it slowly began to fade into a dull numbness. The white lines of the highway blurred into a translucent beam, dashing past my mirror while the engine droned in my ears. I yawned; paranoia is exhausting. 

Suddenly, I saw something. Instantly, my foot went to the brake, and both hands gripped the wheel. On the left side of the road, a large, rectangular object, with the outline of a pickup truck parked beside it. I braced myself, ready to broadside a possible assailant and let them have it with my gun. Closer and closer it crept, my supercharger whooshing as I let off the gas. Noticing motion on my phone’s screen, I glanced down, and immediately felt like an idiot. I had arrived at my destination. There were no raiders, no blockade. All I had to worry about was murdering someone. 

I let the shiny black door of my Olds clap shut, kicking up a puff of grit into the air. By now, the sun was just barely peeking out from behind the horizon, and darkness had taken over for the most part. The air was cool, and my surroundings peaceful. Silently, I thanked my lucky stars that this hit didn’t appear to involve a dog. In my worries about the raiders, I had forgotten to consider that I might have to contend with a German Shepherd as soon as I pulled up. If you live in a dangerous area, your most vital asset is a dog. Tiny begged me to set up this space-age security system in our house that probably wiretaps our conversations and steals her fingerprints, but I think the best way to protect your shit is to buy a mean looking dog from the pound.

After checking for tripwires, a few good whacks turned the trailer’s paper-thin door into tinfoil, and I’m inside. The flashlight on my shotgun is already on, flooding the pitch black single-wide with holy white light. It was two paces to the drab trailer’s only bedroom, and a single steal-toed kick to the door sent it open. My target, asleep and surrounded by empty bottles, barely stirred as I leveled the shotgun at his face. I squeezed the trigger, my gun letting out two consecutive booms. The murder shakes glass, soils sheets, and pounds my eardrums, but as soon as the violence is here, it’s over. My stomach flooded with a familiar soup of satisfaction and easily-dismissed disgust with my actions. Another faceless stranger wasted by another faceless stranger, all because I opened a text on Telegram. I didn’t even check to see if there was anyone else in the trailer; this settlement’s design was far too rudimentary to even bother. The master bedroom didn’t even have a closet - my target’s clothes were scattered on the floor amongst aforementioned booze and codeine cough syrup bottles. 

In the kitchen, I could already hear my colleagues calling me a coward for killing a man in his sleep. Let it be known now that I am beyond caring. After all, the other guy having a gun or a knife doesn’t get me any more money. Their jeering voices prattled on in my head as I cranked all of the knobs on the stove wide open, and stepped outside. For good measure, I popped one of the lines off the trailer’s air conditioner, and let the flammable refrigerant out. My movements were robotic and methodical as I assembled a molotov cocktail out of some junk I found strewn across the property, and as glass shattered and the house burned, I checked my phone. The pictures of the crime scene I had sent had been received, and the precious bounty for tonight’s work was instantly deposited into my bank account. The transaction was labeled “second hand Macbook Pro.”

Slowly turning around, my heart jumped as I spotted the ultralight from earlier. However, instead of stalking me from above, its skeletal outline was comically parked in front of my car. Swallowing, and steeling myself for further confrontation, I drew my 9mm and pointed it at the masked occupant unbuckling themselves from the seat. The pilot must have seen me, because their body language hardly changed upon having a gun brandished at them. 

“It looks like the early bird gets the worm, Mr. Limbo,” a female voice cooed. She reached up to take her helmet off, but by the first syllable of her quip, I already knew what this was. I recognized this assassin’s tone, but I didn’t know her personally. 

“Yeah, but the second mouse gets the cheese,” I muttered, walking towards my car. 

“Your pictures were incredible,” the aviatrix called out after me, “I just saw them now. You’re so…efficient.”

Oh, geez, thank you, I wanted to pipe up sarcastically, but I could already feel the adrenaline fading. Instead, I remember muttering something under my breath and slipping away in my car. 

#ooc #drabble #thing i wrote

[stay-safe-pixieboots]

Dead

Characters: Adam Cole, Matt Jackson, Nick Jackson, and Kenny Omega

Summary: Adam Cole is dead. And he is the only one that doesn’t know it. 

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2,412

Chapters: 3 

Authors Note: I have broken out of my writing slump! I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have a lot of fun reading it! You can either read it on Ao3 or here on Tumblr!

                                  ------

The world slammed into him as if he's fallen through several tables. His vision was fuzzy and everything around him sounded like it was muffled and very far away.

What happened?

Why was he on the floor?

Did he pass out?

"Matt?" Adam groaned, sitting up slowly. "Nick?"

They were just right there.

Where'd they go?

And speaking of where they were- where was everyone else? Normally after a show like this, backstage and the locker room were bustling with noise. As of right now, there is no one to be seen.

He wandered down the hall at a slow pace, searching every room he came across.

Something isn't right.

He can feel it.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Adam calls out as he cracks open the door to the trainer's room. However, when he steps inside fully, he finds absolutely nothing.

It's as if no one had been here at all.

He ran a finger along an abandoned shelf, his finger coming away with dust.

"Maybe I should call them." Adam wonders aloud, searching-

Oh, right.

He's still wearing his trunks. There's no way that he'd have his phone on him right now. And after searching the locker room earlier, he knows that his bag is nowhere to be found.

Anxiety creeps up his spine like a spider along a wall. This- this isn't right. Something isn't right. He keeps coming back to that fact. His brain latching onto it and not letting go.

Adam goes back to where he woke up, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He forces himself to think back, trying to come up with something- anything that could help him figure out what happened.

But when he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his knees, his memory is that of a wasteland- barren and empty. The only thing that he can clearly remember is Matt and Nick. They were talking in the hallway after the show.

Something isn't right.

Why can't he remember?

His spiraling was cut short when he heard a door open. He stood up quickly. Maybe it was one of the guys. Maybe they realized that he was missing.

Surely, someone would realize if he was gone- wouldn't they?

Adam ran up to the front, quickly recognizing that the person was not one of the guys. But at this point, he'd take anything.

"Hey! Can you help me? I just wrestled a show here but-" He stopped as the person walked right past him. He was being pretty loud, so there was no way that the person couldn't have heard him.

Adam followed them down the hall, stopping when they unlocked a closet. They must be a janitor.

As the person grabbed the mop bucket, he tried to stand in their line of sight. "My name is Adam Cole. Can you please help me? I just woke up here. I just wrestled a show but everyone and everything is gone."

And once again they completely ignored him. Are they doing this on purpose? Did everyone on the planet just decide it was fuck with Adam Cole day?

Adam forced the panic down and turned away, grabbing the handle of the front door and forcing it open. He stepped outside-

The second time that Adam wakes up that day is much more jarring than the first. He's laying square in the middle of the road in the downpouring rain.

He sits up so fast that it makes his head spin. He is sure that he isn't in Reseda anymore, but the street he finds himself on is familiar.

And he knows right where to go.

By the time he finds the house that he is looking for, the sun was starting to rise and the rain has tapered off into a drizzle.

He walks up the driveway and relief floods his frantic veins as he hears someone working out in the garage. Adam opens the door and starts to speak. Hopefully, he won't have to go through the whole janitor saga again.

"Matt?" He starts tentatively, but before he can get anything else out, Matt startles and drops the weight that he had been holding.

Matt whips around and stares at him, wide-eyed and pale-faced. "Adam? What are you- you can't..."

Adam takes a step closer, but Matt backs up, a hand shooting out. "Matt, what's going on?"

"You can't be here...there's-there's no way..."

"What do you mean I can't be here? Why is everyone acting so weird?"

Without another word, Matt grabs his phone and practically sprints back inside the house. However, Adam follows, completely undeterred. "Matt, you have to tell me what's going on. Why are you acting so weird? What happened? Why did you and Nick ditch me in Reseda?"

Matt just kept going, pretending as if he couldn't hear him. But Adam knows that this is different from the janitor. Matt seemed to actually acknowledge that he was there.

Matt walks into his room and shuts the door, locking it behind him. Adam sighs and sits on the floor in the hall, facing Matt's door.

He needs answers.

He'll wait all day if he needs to.

                    END OF CHAPTER ONE

                                     ------

Matt groans and rolls over, tugging the comforter up and over his head. This had been the first night where he slept all the way through in almost a week.

His nights have been plagued with nightmares- tormenting and unrelenting. It was almost as if the image of Adam Cole laying on the floor after he drank that monster had been plastered to the inside of his eyelids.

And if that wasn't enough, the nightmares have spilled over into the day.

Matt really hopes whatever mental break he had yesterday could just be chalked up to a lack of sleep. Because if he keeps seeing things, he doesn't know what to tell Nick.

Nick already had a hard enough time working through his guilt. He doesn't need to dig up the past and add to it by bringing it up.

He'll be alright.

He always was.

So why should he give his brother a reason to worry?

It takes Matt an obscene amount of time and energy to work up the willpower to get out of bed.

And when he opens the door, he's tempted to just crawl right back into bed.

Because Adam Cole is still there, sitting on the floor in his hallway.

He tries to slip past him, but Adam follows, speaking up from behind him. "Matt, please. You gotta help me."

"No, Adam. I don't have to help you with anything." He retorts, reaching up into a cupboard to grab a mug.

"Wha-Matt, what is going on? Why are you acting so weird?"

Matt scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm acting weird? Whatever-Just- Adam, you gotta go. You can't be here."

Adam crosses his arms, hopping up to sit on the counter next to where Matt was trying to make some coffee. "Why do you keep saying that? Why can't I be here?"

"Just go, dude."

"I'm not leaving until you give me answers. Why is everyone ignoring me?"

Matt works up the courage to look up at Adam, finding that he looks the same as the day that he died. He was still wearing his ring gear and his hair was still pulled up. "No one is ignoring you."

"Oh, really? Because the last person I tried talking to acted like I wasn't even there."

"Maybe they can't hear you."

"You can hear me."

"Just because I can hear you doesn't mean that everyone else can."

"What kind of excuse is that? You're keeping something from me. I can tell."

"I'm not keeping anything from you, Adam. Just get outta here."

Adam sighs, running a hand down his face. "Can you at least tell me where I can find someone with answers?"

Matt shrugs, taking a sip from his mug. "I don't know. You gotta figure this out yourself."

"Did we fight?"

Matt looks up at him again. "What?"

"Did we have a fight? Is that why you're acting like this?"

"Adam-"

"No, Matt. Don't shrug this off. I need to know what is going on." Adam interrupts. "First I wake up in Reseda and no one is there. Nobody can seem to see or hear me. This is really freaking me out."

"And I told you, you have to figure it out yourself."

Adam growls and hops off the counter. "Whatever, man. You know that this is really scaring me and you don't even care to try and help."

"C'mon-"

"No! Fuck you, Matt! You said I'll have to figure it out myself, right? So here I go. Figuring it out. On my own."

Adam takes a deep breath, trying to push down his fear.

To hide it where Matt can't see it.

Matt was being a dick.

He doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing the pain that he's causing him.

They're best friends. Well, at least he thought they were. But still, shouldn't friends help friends?

He shakes his head and opens the door, not looking back at Matt as he walks away.

                    END OF CHAPTER TWO

                                     ------

The passage of time, Adam has figured out, is a foreign concept to him now.

He had managed to figure out what day it was once, but his brain almost seemed to reject that there are different days in the week.

One time he thought it was Wednesday- but wait, it is not Wednesday- it's actually Saturday.

Everything is blurring together. He feels like his brain is encased in a helmet of fog. It doesn't allow him to think clearly.

And on top of that, with his near-constant blackouts, he couldn't even tell you what year it was anymore.

He was pretty sure that it was 2017. But hell, it could be 2021 for all that he knew.

Adam groans in frustration as he wanders down the hallway at some random arena. He followed Matt there, not recognizing the company name at all. He tried to keep up with all the indie companies, so it is odd that this one managed to slip under his radar.

"I don't think this is a good idea, you guys.."

Adam stops outside a door as Matt's voice drifts out from behind it. He has no idea what the plan is, but it can't be good if Matt is tentative about it.

"It's gonna be fine. Malakai said that this would work." Another voice. Kenny.

"And what if it doesn't? You shouldn't be messing around with this stuff."

"Whatever- Just- grab my hand. He said that we needed to sit in a circle, hold hands, and read from this book."

"Read from a book?" A third voice scoffs- Nick. "Are you kidding me?"

"We need help. If it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't."

"Let's get this over with," Matt says, his voice sounding pained.

The voices devolve into a language he doesn't recognize as they apparently read from a book.

The lights in the hallway are flickering.

And something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

Adam wraps an arm around his stomach as he nearly doubles over in pain. It feels like someone stuck a knife there and is taking great pleasure in twisting it around.

"M-matt?" He calls out, stumbling towards the door. "Matt, help me. Some-something isn't right."

He knows that Matt is still ignoring him- just like everyone else in the world. But this is genuinely scaring the shit out of him.

It feels like he's dying.

Adam crumples to the ground in front of the door, just a fingertip away from opening it.

Just inches away from help.

He gasps as he slowly curls in on himself, hoping that if he makes himself smaller the pain will stop.

It doesn't.

It gets worse.

So much worse.

The pain comes in waves, hellbent on drowning him. And he thinks it succeeded as his vision completely blacks out, his body going numb.

----------

Matt opens his eyes, looking at the circle where Kenny said Adam would be standing. He finds nothing but the framed picture that they had placed there.

"I told you it wouldn't work, Kenny," Nick speaks up. "You can't just bring people back from the dead like that."

"I-I don't understand... Malakai said this would work."

"Well, it didn't," Matt says, standing up and heading to the door. "C'mon, Nick. We gotta get ready for our match."

Nick followed Matt, and Kenny- sighing with disappointment followed not that long after.

----------

When Adam comes to, he finds himself in a darkened room surrounded by candles. He takes stock of himself, finding that he is now wearing different clothes.

He reaches into a pocket, feeling a familiar weight there.

A phone.

Thank god.

Adam presses a button and the screen lights up, the date, month, and year clearly displayed.

2021.

"Oh, my god." He blinks in disbelief. The year never changes despite his wish that it would. "It's been four years?"

Adam looks around the room before rushing to the door. But before he could grab the knob, the acidicly sweet taste of monster overtakes his mouth. Why would he be tasting monster? He hasn't drunk any of that stuff in a long, long time.

He shakes the awkward feeling off and opens the door, coming face to face with the men he had been seeking help from for god knows how long.

Nick's eyes widen. "Adam?"

Adam looks between them. "What? Wait- you can see me?"

"Yeah, I can see you. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You...You weren't-" Adam cuts himself off, trying to shake the fog off. "You couldn't..."

Matt's reflexes act before his brain does. His arms snap out because Adam is suddenly pitching forward, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He hooks his arms underneath Adam's knees and walks further into the room. "Shut the door."

Nick scrambles to shut the door, a shocked expression on his face. "Matt, it worked."

Matt remains silent as he sets Adam on the couch. He thought that his mind was just playing tricks on him because of his guilt. But what Adam said... Asking Nick if he can see him. That means-

"Oh my god..."

"Are you alright?"

Matt nods, his eyes not leaving Adam's face. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? This is a lot..."

"I'm. Fine."

At least, he hopes it will be.

People come back from the dead every day, right?

                 END OF CHAPTER THREE

#adam cole #matt jackson #nick jackson #kenny omega #my writing #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

[chimaerakid]

you should tell the world more about yuor courier :)

MAYBE I SHOULD..!!!

Lupe is my courier!

I don't have specific stats for him (mostly because I've played as him so many times they're always a bit different), but the basics are that he's a high perception & endurance, low charisma & agility build.

he has high repair, medicine, survival and sneak, and has very low speech and barter skills. everything else is either kind of low or continues to slowly improve as he travels

Lupe was always a quiet man. though his figure was often imposing, he would always help others with a kind smile on his face. He is from Baja California del Norte, close to NCR territory :) he lived in a small community with friends and family.

The trek from Baja to California was easy enough for him, so he took on the job of courier!

blah blah being shot in the head by Benny blah blah retrograde amnesia. the jist of it is that he no longer remembers his family or his past. the first few days in good springs are very rough. the town assumes he was mute, and it honestly feels like he is. speaking is very hard. words of two languages getting jumbled in his brain. he has constant headaches and bad dreams.

Despite no longer knowing himself at all, he remains a very similar man. He's still quiet, though moreso than before, and he is still kind at heart.

I am still trying to figure out how arcade and him exactly meet, and how their relationship develops, but Arcade serves as an anchor for him. Though their relationship remains unlabeled and ambiguous for the most part, they both rely on each other. Arcade trusts him.

though he doesn't show, he is in anguish. he has dreams of people who's faces feel so familiar, yet are always out of reach. he doesn't want to be a murderer, a mercenary, a tool for a revolution he knows nothing about. he is so often trapped in his own mind, and arcade is always there to ground him.

I've written some stuff about him and Benny before, so I'm just gonna copy paste it on here lol

"But Benny- he put you in this position. Whether you act or not, a war is brewing. But he has the power to change its odds. To a degree, you cannot blame Benny. Like yourself, like many in the Mojave, in the wasteland, he is a dreamer. An idealist. An idiot with hope. Just so happened that Benny was in a high enough position of power to actually almost get away with what would've been the Renaissance of New Vegas.

That man stands out like a sore thumb. the same unappealing, unflattering, tacky, yellowed-at-the-seams checkered suit is still on his person. It fills you with rage, how a man cannot even have the decency to change from the same clothes he wore after killing an innocent person. After killing what was once you. But maybe you're looking too much into it."

BASICALLY his feelings towards Benny are very mixed. he respects Benny's initiative, he *almost* respects his drive; his want to change things. But he loathes him for what he did to him. He's a snake. in the end, Arcade is relieved that Lupe doesn't seek vengance. would bring too much trouble into their lives.

other than that . . . . i mean I've written some other things, but theyre mostly misc stuff that I've already kinda explained on here ^^ Lupes story might still change.. I am still working on him & his character... sorry if any of this is structured weird by the way. i wasn't sure how to write it . I am also sorry for any typos!! i am writing this on my phone as I chew on scrambled eggs

btw he goes for independent new vegas 👍

ALSO I HAVE A LUPE PLAYLIST IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN TO IT!!!

thank you for reading!!!!

#fnv #courier 6 #sorry for the wall of text

[achillestiel]

11, 18, 29 & 30 for the ao3 wrapped tag 💕

Aoife I promise I wasn't ignoring you, Tumblr never told me you sent this 😭

11. What work took you the longest to write?

The ongoing WIP/fic the last great american dynasty (it will be finished one day)

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Dean in my Pinefest fic It's Only Teenage Wasteland. I knew how I wanted to write him but getting there was a struggle. Some dialogue took days to write out and perfect.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oh my god, this is a hard one. I love a lot of my Pinefest fic even though it was brutal to write but this part of dialogue was written super early on in the drafting process and stuck with me throughout:

“Cas, you gotta know… you… you could have been it, you know? You… you were it.”

“Dean—”

“Please, just… for me, you were it. I’m sorry.”

“This is a really shitty goodbye.”

“I know.” Dean sighed, the tears now freely flowing down his cheeks as he hung his head. On the other end of the phone, he heard Cas let out a stifled sob. “I… shit, I have to go. I’m sorry Cas, I’m so sorry.”

“Dean, wait,” Cas said. “You were it for me too. From the moment we met. You were it.”

It's so sad in the context of the fic but it set up so much dialogue later on down the road.

There's also bits of my endverse fic that I'm posting tomorrow that just makes my brain go BBRRRRRRR

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

I don't suck? I'm such a chaotic perfectionist and I get so hung up with self doubt but the insanely amazing feedback I get from my beloved here makes me think I can actually write?? People like seeing the jumble of words I write??? It's an amazing but surprising feeling.

#ao3 wrapped #aoife ❤️

[seahgreenhorn]

We March On. . . 21st Century Love During a Time of Violence: Wayne & Sabrina Chap. Seven

We March On. . . 21st Century Love During a Time of Violence: Wayne & Sabrina Chap. Seven

Left campus Sabrina late arrived home in time to only meditate on final exam's still sketchy state

as just before entering her door rain began it thundered yes poured.

Goodbye Stress to Sleep Instantly with Heavy Rain & Thunder on Old Metal Roof in Rainforest at Night

As she watched its magnificent display knowing pure deadliness with one should not play

as bolt temperatures hotter than the sun's distant plain plus shockwaves beaming bouncing in various directions

to venture out in it is suicidal insane a plan begins to formulate inside her electrified brain.

Thought Sabrina of life's necessity for nitrogen and added questions about other nature's origins:

"From what direction is light dispersed, And from where does the east wind blow on the earth?

Who has cut a channel for the flood And made a path for the thunderous storm cloud,

To make it rain where no man lives, On the wilderness where there are no humans,

To satisfy devastated wastelands And cause the grass to sprout?

Does the rain have a father, Or who fathered the dewdrops?

From whose womb did the ice emerge, And who gave birth to the frost of heaven

When the waters are covered as if with stone, And the surface of the deep waters is frozen solid?" are questions she reiterated just not out loud.

So, inside the solitude of her room with these musings she did resume

since admonished to 'make sure of all things' in defense of my beliefs do not 'shrink back' to delay or forever hesitate with nature I'll start."

Although, just for a moment she flicks on the tube to unwind, not turning on the light to relieve the dark

she does sigh as again pass her sheered windows

she remembers a globe groans and bemoans strains

shooting stars and galaxies galore beyond the storm still proclaim an intelligence, an energy

a power not to be disdained

as plays in the background Skillet's music score many a youth this band does adore

Sabrina enjoys also its lyrics and refrain:

Skillet -“Stars” (The Shack Version) Official Music Video

Afterwards she wonders:

Do they the Bible literally take teaching that everything in the universe, including the earth and all life on it, is only a few thousand years old given birth? Say that God created all things in just six 24-hour days?

Since the Bible's account of creation does not conflict with conclusions scientific about the universe's age.

Does not call their deductions a mathematic mistake.

Too, scientifically the Bible does claim as Christopher Columbus himself felt the same:

"There is One who dwells above the circle of the earth,

And its inhabitants are like grasshoppers."

Along with, long ago known: "Suspending the earth upon nothing"

even this later astronauts have shown.

These thoughts through Sabrina did again drone as a skippy hip beat lingers at first thought

maybe my phone...

Starts to dream...

Flight of the Bumblebee

her brain cells to stream...about how cross-pollination guarantees variety and thus healthier and more resilient plants.

Then grew she saw mounds of black and red ants

causing her to flinch...

When Angels Fall - Dark Emotional Piano Beat | Prod. by Dansonn

dark and melodic not as humanity screams after not given an inch.

Why they think God doesn't exist

because of war and its stench....

Like what Micah had to endure as in our day:

"The loyal one has perished from the earth; Among men there is no one upright. All of them lie in ambush for bloodshed. Each hunts his own brother with a dragnet. Their hands are expert at doing what is bad; The prince is making demands, The judge asks for a reward, The prominent one makes known his desires, And they work it out together. Their best one is like thorns, Their most upright one is worse than a thorn hedge. The day of your watchmen and of your reckoning will come. Now they will panic."

Also, prophesied a glorious occurrence:

"In the final part of the days, The mountain of the house of Jehovah Will become firmly established above the top of the mountains, And it will be raised up above the hills, And to it peoples will stream.

And many nations will go and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of Jehovah And to the house of the God of Jacob. He will instruct us about his ways, And we will walk in his paths.” For law will go out of Zion, And the word of Jehovah out of Jerusalem.

He will render judgment among many peoples And set matters straight respecting mighty nations far away. They will beat their swords into plowshares And their spears into pruning shears. Nation will not lift up sword against nation, Nor will they learn war anymore.

They will sit, each one under his vine and under his fig tree, And no one will make them afraid, For the mouth of Jehovah of armies has spoken.

For all the peoples will walk, each in the name of its god, But we will walk in the name of Jehovah our God forever and ever.

“In that day,” declares Jehovah, “I will gather the one who was limping, And collect together the dispersed one, Along with those I treated harshly.

I will make the one who was limping a remnant, And the one far removed a mighty nation; And Jehovah will rule as king over them in Mount Zion, From now on and forever."^

Jubilant

Butterfly – Jab Harry Met Sejal | Anushka Sharma | Shah Rukh Khan | Pritam | Imtiaz Ali

She woke with a smile after laughter when it dawns on her

"Yes!... A Video."

To describe the varieties in men their thinking, dress, food, fashion

still on basic necessities all mankind does depend

unlike animals surviving by instinct. Man plans and conceives of love he does think.

So why if intelligence himself he does grant surely our grand universe even if not totally understood in his own ignorance would he not thank a Creator and not of him rant ungrateful of all that he gave: Oxygen, horizons and a ransom he paid to extend life eternal our earth Him to save? Then I'll end with a quote:

In the mid-1800’s, British biologist Alfred Russel Wallace agreed with Charles Darwin on the theory of evolution by natural selection. But even this renowned evolutionist is said to have stated: “For those who have eyes to see and minds accustomed to reflect, in the minutest cells, in the blood, in the whole earth, and throughout the stellar universe..., there is intelligent and conscious direction; in a word, there is Mind.”

Yes, this scientist wrote.

So, we must concede: God is a person, an individual.

Not a vague force devoid of personality, floating aimlessly throughout the universe

without purpose. Originality.

He has thoughts, feelings, goals.

Infinite power wisdom daily majestically unfolds.

Explains why complexity in design found everywhere in creation, especially in living things

should not boggle. It refines.

And although, Him we cannot see as He has created all physical matter.

Hence, these elements he cannot be. Rather, he is a spirit, or nonphysical in nature. Not limited by time.

Always has existed.

Will always exist.

Has a personal name.

Jehovah is He...

Divine... TO BE CONT'D

Write a poem for contest God? - KingdomOfXy

Isa. 40:22; Job 26:7; The Untold Story of Creation https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/102014083?q=creation&p=par

Science and the Bible—Do They Really Contradict Each Other? https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/2005241?q=circle+of+the+earth&p=par

https://tv.jw.org/#en/mediaitems/OriginsLife/pub-jwbiv_201604_2_VIDEO © 5 minutes ago, Lucretia McCloud    teen • nature • hope • love   

#love #hope #future

[anemic-comedienne]

More love letters, more growing up

Ever since Grace wrote her brilliantly sweet and brilliantly brilliant little biography, I’ve been finding myself writing similar snippets. This one is about Peter, my friend who may or may not be a geography major, who read every poem I wrote between the ages of 14 and 16, and who is coming home in three days (but who’s counting?)

The first thing you need to know about Peter is that he has an Android, because of course he does. So for a long time, he wouldn’t actually text me, instead exiling us to the wasteland that is the Snapchat chat function. It was only this past year, after much mockery, that he started actually calling me on the phone. “Like an adult,” I said, teasing, the first time I picked up. His answer, in the affirmative, was more sincere than I expected. We didn’t grow up together in the traditional sense, I guess, but that specific kind of teenage growing – the kind that makes a person a person – we did side by side. On steps backstage and from glowing midwest bedrooms. Over joints he smoked and I didn’t. And now we’ve arrived here, at an age that merits some reminiscing.

Peter and I first met our freshman year of high school, behind the scenes of a scary production of As You Like It. The show was spearheaded by an interim director who was the craziest bitch I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. Peter’s older sister, then a junior, was stage managing, and she literally apologized to us during opening night, promising that – although ubiquitously distressing – high school theater didn’t usually get *this* ugly. We persevered through dressing room meltdowns and high expectations. The following summer, we started texting, and pretty soon we were in near constant (virtual) contact. And then senior year, we fell into the same messy friend group that populates the majority of the high school memoir I’ll never write. We weren’t exactly fast friends, though. It took years before we ever saw each other outside of school – at 15, I was reeling from a bitter breakup and two even bitterer friendship breakups, all with boys who pulled at me in ways I didn’t quite understand then. I was so afraid of being close to a boy again that every time Peter and I made plans, my anxiety would get so bad that I’d become physically ill. But I got better, and Peter was still there, and our relationship was wonderfully, easily platonic. And now, when my therapist asks who I’m excited to see at home, Peter is the first name that comes to mind.

One of many reasons I love Peter is that he’s never thought of me as particularly interesting. I can tell him the most horrifically funny things about my life and my brain without worrying that he’ll try to take care of me, or worse, find me attractive. Mental illness doesn’t shock him or make him wince or make him flirt. I think this is why finding out that he had a crush on me sophomore year of high school felt like a betrayal. And why I believed so passionately I hadn’t known before Thanksgiving of last year when he brought it up vaguely, in passing, and insisted he’d told me before. I figured I would have remembered feeling like our friendship had been undermined. I didn’t remember, though, because it wasn’t. Peter has never liked me for being sick or sad. But he has always loved me in spite of it. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised by his kindness; I know that women should expect it from the men we love and who claim to love us back. But Peter does love me back. I don’t need to teach him something he already knows. And so when he catches me off guard, as he often does – with the scope of his generosity, with the gentle way he looks at the world, with his uncanny ability to read my smallest gesture – I feel pretty uninterested in quelling my surprise. Especially because the way he knows me, through and through and completely effortlessly, certainly is uncanny. He knows who I like, what I want, even who I am before I do, and he always has, and he’s never spoiled the ending. He never tells me I told you so, or even what happens next. He just knows because he knows me, because he cares. He’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I mean that beyond just us. Being a friend is something that Peter is very good at. It comes to him easily, fully, in a way that is good and sweet and rare.

Peter probably won’t read this. The only way he would find this post is if I sent it to him, which seems like an embarrassing thing to do, because this love letter is much too much about me to ever actually deliver to its intended recipient. That’s only fitting though. Peter has forgiven me for being selfish and self-centered more times than I can count, more than I’ve ever deserved. I tell him all the time that it’s a miracle he’s friends with me. That our friendship consists of – has always consisted of – me yelling and him patiently holding my hand. I say it as a joke (usually) and he laughs (always.) He assures me it isn’t true. And maybe it isn’t. Maybe I overestimate how much I’m supposed to give. Maybe I’m used to giving too much, or maybe it’s possible for him to love me even when I give nothing at all. But maybe it is true, a little. So I feel a little guilty, just in case. Especially for making him my perpetual drunk call. 

I’ve never thought to tread lightly when sharing the most intimate details of my mental health with male friends because a) they’re usually telling me much more about themselves, and b) they’re usually too distracted by either what they’re saying or how I look to actually listen. But Peter listens, and Peter doesn’t overshare. He doesn’t think that he’s in love with me. He’s just a person, and he knows I am too. I don’t think this will ever not feel special to me. So many of my friendships in high school were defined by bleeding next to one another, and so many of my friendships with boys in high school were defined by trying to look nice while I bled. I don’t know much else. I think this is why sometimes, when Peter and I are reunited, I find myself pressing at our shared memories, trying to find places that old wounds might still be open. I don’t like this about myself. Peter has always been better than what I’ve needed him to be. And he’s always been more mature than me, more levelheaded, better at reading a room. I want to grow up in the ways he’s always been grown up, in the ways that make him such a good friend.

In high school, Peter carried a messenger bag instead of a backpack. He wears transition lenses to this day. He’s dorky looking in a way that is almost cartoonish and always endearing. He laughs at me when I happy cry. He did drugs earlier in high school than everyone else did. I think he prefers writing to reading. He shouldn’t have to be the glue in his family, or in our friend group, but he is, and if he ever decides to be proud of it, he’d deserve to be. I don’t know if he would describe himself this way, but at least from the outside, his sense of self seems pretty unshakeable. And I know for a fact he wouldn’t describe himself this way, but I’ve always thought of him as universally adored.

One night last winter, while I was driving him home, he started naming things he likes. Peter likes bubble tea and video games and his cat. I like sunrises and caramel hard candies and my cat. We went back and forth like that, just saying things that made us happy, barreling through the bitter Minneapolis January until we reached his front door. Earlier that night, I’d told him too much (again.) And, as he has more times than I can count, more times than I’ll ever deserve, he forgave me for it, kindly.

I hope that next time I find myself with less to tell. I hope I find myself with less to apologize for. I hope he keeps forgiving me until I do. Good, sweet Peter, who has loved me through the things he’s seen and the things he hasn’t. The things I’ve told him too much about and the things he knows without me saying. I won’t hope to sit with Peter on his bad days the way he’s done for me because I never want Peter to have bad days. Instead, I will hope to surprise him the way he surprises me, with kindness and sweetness and patience given without being asked for. But I know that’s impossible, because I’ll never surprise him with anything. He knows me too well. So I try, and keep trying, to be the friend he deserves: a dedicated listener. Someone who sends snail mail more often than I do, because he got gift giving on the love languages quiz. Someone who calls drunk less and sober more. And I hope that how much I love him, the wide open sea of it, can be one more thing he knows without my saying it. There’s just too much to say. And, because it’s easy, there’s nothing to say at all.

[omanu]

hey, i just wanted to pop in and say that if i remember correctly you posted a selfie a while ago and i was thinking oh my god that's such a pretty person i need to draw him, and i tried going back to find it again but i think you deleted it since? which is perfectly ok, even if i didn't get a chance to draw you im glad i got to see you!! we've been mutuals for a few years now atp i think and im pretty horrible at talking to people, but when i came back to tumblr after a year or so and i saw you in my notifs it really felt like omg that's my friend! like yknow coming back into a barren wasteland and then someone pops up like hey bud im still here 😭 idk as i said im pretty bad at talking to people, but i do enjoy seeing you in my notifs, and as someone who's halfway to 30 and still in college with one single friend i feel you, but i also think it'll get better and no one is destined to be alone and miserable, even if it's really hard to not feel like it, and i think even if happiness takes a while to get to it's still gonna be worth it, everyone, and i truly mean Everyone!!! deserves to know they have a place in this world, we deserve to take up space and be ourselves and find people who want us the way we are, and ive been there where your brain tells you to just die already but honestly. im glad im still here and im glad you're still here, even if all it means is that i get to smile when i see you in my notifs <3 im one of those people who think if someone likes and reblogs my posts then we're friends already, so even if im just a silent little thing in your phone, im still here!! and so are you!!! and i think that's pretty neat

so yeah, anyway, that got a little long winded, but i hope, even if slowly and sometimes a little painfully, you'll find something and someone who makes you happy, you deserve to stick around and find little things (and big ones, too!) that bring you joy <3

- a beloved mutual

aah just know that i think i read these messages like a day after you sent them! im really touched, like, fjdkkf first of all, there is someone here?? second of all, thank you so much? for everything you said.

usually, rarely (?) when i get on here it's bc i feel so bad in my head that i dont think ppl on my twitter (where I live) deserve seeing any of my whining... and to be honest that place is not safe for that cuz strangers are always jumping on people for anything and everything, so thats why i come here to cry. im sorry for that cuz it makes it look like im always miserable, which is kinda true, but when it gets unbearable i need to write shit down. so, im here now, meaning: i was gonna do what i always do here :D but then i remembered i had to reply this message dkdkd

it's so cool that youre almost 30 thats amazing, and thanks for sharing that you Get Me cuz you probably do, this makes it feel more normal. Usually i dont really mind being so alone but it always gets to me at some point. and it's kinda like,, i totally believe i could be okay living like this, i wouldn't mind. but some days when everything seems shitty and ugly it feels so bad, yknow? im sorry i cant really be that positive rn, after all i came here to cry, but this is a nice way to try and stir away from my usual single pity-party.

and i cant believ u saw my selfie cuz the day after i felt really weird, like why did i say all of that, i am a loser! i dont even know why i complain about having no one cuz on my normal days i just know i dont mind it. so weird.

anyways! thanks again im glad youre here!!!

#kgksk crying post postponed #i guess later im just gonna cry in bed like a normal person

[harryspet]

caged bird | s.rogers, p.parker & b.barnes

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!peter parker x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader, polyamory, prison au, noncon/dubcon sex, this plot scenario is very unrealistic but oh well,  reader makes a deal so she can survive, hella manipulation, dominants/submissive, oral sex (male recieving), hella angst, shower sex, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: this is like a really f’d up situation so enjoy :):):) i also wrote this over the span of two weeks so i’m sorry if the pacing is weird and (also x2) this is nowhere near canon

In which you have to make a deal with three devils in order to survive in The Cage.

word count: 4.8k

main masterlist

Your eyelids were heavy though the bright light outside the bus was forcing you awake. Your limbs shackled to the seat, it reminded you that you had lost your freedom so quickly and that you’d probably never have a good night of sleep ever again, “How long?” Your mouth was dry, the heat from the wasteland you were driving through crept through the window. 

“Twenty minutes, princess,” Officer Rumlow looked you over for the millionth time like you were fresh meat ready for the slaughter. His perceptions weren’t far off and that’s what scared you the most. You weren’t cut out for a place like the Cage. 

A week ago you thought this place was fictional, a nightmare tale that was used to scare the new employees. It was still a nightmare but you were now living in it. You thought your heart might explode out of your chest as the facility finally came into view. Five stories of complete concrete surrounded by two, hundred-foot fences and surrounded by a barren wasteland. 

You were the only one on the bus. The Cage rarely received new inmates due to the nature of crimes that the prison was built for. Vigilantes and government traitors. Many used to consider them heroes but they were unregulated and dangerous. That's how they ended up here and, your boss, Alexander Pierce had sold you out to save himself.

“When … W-When am I going to get my phone call?” You asked as the bus entered the gates of the prison, finally stopping at the processing center. 

Rumlow chuckled, walking over to unchain your shackles from the floor of the bus, “Who are you going to call, princess? Mommy and Daddy?” He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you out of your seat and dragging you down the steps of the bus. 

You refused to accept that you had been erased. Your parents probably thought you were only missing, not that you had been wrongly accused of betraying the government and had been thrown into the most dangerous prison in the country. 

“They can’t do this,” You winced as your arm stung, “No trial. No jury. T-This is illegal!”

Rumlow ignored you, and you had to pick up your pace in order to not fall down. Your eyes wandered around, the sun nearly blinding you and stinging your skin at the same time. You noticed in the distance a group of male inmates standing behind a wired fence, wearing the same navy jumpsuit as you, and even from far away, you could see cold and hungry glances. 

You thought you were lucky for a minute since you were a woman but then you remembered what kind of women probably lived here. As you were brought inside, past several guards, through metal detectors and pat-downs. 

When you got to the body cavity search, you expected to part way with Rumlow. Standing in a small, cold room, Rumlow stood in the doorway with his hands casually in the pockets of his pants, “Undress, inmate,” Your eyes widened and you quickly crossed your arms, “Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

“I-I do mind,” You said quickly, “I’m supposed to have a female officer-”

“You don’t get those kinds of privileges in the Cage. We don’t separate inmates by gender,” You shook your head as your eyebrows began to furrow. 

“That’s insane-”

“Undress, inmate,” He said more sternly this time, “Or would you like me to do it for you? You’re lucky I don’t make you put on a show for the rest of the guards.”

You shook your head again, tears starting to form in your tired eyes, “Please don’t-” You tried to plead with him but, as you did, you watched him reach for his baton, “Okay, okay!”

Rumlow smiled a wicked smile, “Good. Bend over and cough, inmate. Let me see that cute, little ass of yours.”

+

When you finally got to see a female officer, she was escorting you to your cell. In your hands, you held the rest of your life which included one more set of clothes, bedding, and a toothbrush. You had to eat what the prison provided and you could only earn extra commissary from working. Hela tried to explain everything to you but you were only latching onto every other world. 

You walked along a slim passageway which had cells to the right and a metal railing to the left. There were three floors of cells and they seemed to go all the way around in a circle. Passed the railing and in the middle of the dome was where it seemed most of the inmates were gathered. 

The shouting, laughing, and fighting echoed through the dome and you couldn’t help but think those calls were for you. You could barely carry your bag of things and walk straight without stumbling. If they couldn’t send your weakness from your appearance then they’d surely sniff it out soon. 

“This can’t be allowed,” You whispered to Officer Hela, though her dark hair mixed with the look of death in her eyes didn’t scream “empathy” to you, “There has to be some sort of rule-”

She stopped in front of an empty, six by eight-foot cell which told you that this would be your new home, “You can sit in solitary if you like,” She spoke coldly, “Your meals get brought to you and you don’t have to deal with the animals in here but there’s no time outside. It’s easy to lose track of the days and forget which voices are real and which ones are inside your head. If you prefer to go insane before you die then I’d recommend that route.”

There wasn’t much of a choice to make and you found your feet moving before your brain could register. You stepped inside the cell, setting down your things on the bottom bunk, “A girl like you is going to need to latch onto a group, pledge your allegiance, and do not let them question your loyalty. They live by a different code here and following it is life or death, do you understand?”

You slowly nodded as you listened and part of you was grateful that she wasn’t completely cold, “T-Thank you-”

She scoffed, “Such a precious little thing … I give you a week,” With that, she turned on her heel and you felt hopeless once again, “I’ll escort you to dinner-”

You shook your head, “I’m not hungry.” You were actually starving but you could not yet face the beast. 

She only shrugged and pulled the door closed. The light above you flickered and you stared back down at your bunk. You were holding back your tears as you tried to make up your bed. Staring at the flimsy mattress material only made you more depressed so you decided just to lay down. Facing the wall, your tired eyes roamed over what was scribbled on the walls. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is evil. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is corrupt. 

You hated that the words initially sent a wave of anger through you. You hated that you still felt loyal to that group of monsters. You were a low level worker with good standing and they had just sent you to die?

With your face tucked into your arm, you cried yourself to sleep. 

+

The next day you had no choice but to face your fears. You couldn’t go any longer without food and, in a place like this, you needed to keep your energy up. Before the sun was even out, you heard the mechanical click of the cell door. Your favorite officer, Rumlow, made sure to stop by your cell during roll call. 

“So you decided on general population,” He popped the gum he was chewing, looking you over, “I’m sad to hear it, I was gonna visit you every day in solitary but I guess we’ll get some alone time soon enough.”

You scowled at him and a shiver went through you as he continued pass your cell. You were now grateful that you had chosen general population. 

That feeling didn’t last as inmates started moving from their cells down to breakfast. You stayed back, waiting to slip out of your cell when the crowd had passed. You lingered in the back of the line but no one seemed to notice you until you were in the kitchen line. The first reaction was a quiet murmur that went through the group of (mostly) men at the sight of you. 

You didn’t quite match anyone's stature, not even the women. At least they looked like they could take care of themselves. You were sure that your face probably had dark circles and sunken in features. You looked down when you felt someone's eyes on you and you cringed at every word whispered about you. 

“If I could just get my hands on her …”

“I wonder what a little girl like that could’ve done to get in here.”

“I’d be real gentle with her …” “I wouldn’t … I’d make her scream …”

“Move along,” Hela barked at the inmates in the line. You tried to tune them out as a staff member handed you your tray of food. A stale piece of toast, plastic-looking eggs, peaches, and what looked like could be oatmeal. 

It was when you turned away that you felt a pinch on your bottom. You turned around quickly only to find yourself staring at a chest rather than a face. As you looked up, a man with long, dark black hair stared down at you, “Aren’t you adorable?”

“I said move along, inmates,” You looked towards Hela for some sort of help but didn’t receive any. 

When you looked back again, the man had disappeared. You shook it off, figuring that was the least of what you were about to experience today. As you stepped out into the middle of the dome, you remembered the advice that Hela had managed to give you. 

There were cliques formed at each circular, metal table and you looked each one over as you walked past them. Again, people stared and said vile things but you spotted a table where two women were sitting. They were much older than you but the look you got from them was not maternal in the least. 

“Can I… sit here?” You knew the answer based on their thin-lipped scowls. 

You weren’t like any of them … you were fragile. Besides that, you used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the organization was responsible for locking half of these people away. You kept walking, eventually finding an empty table to sit at. 

All you could think about now was eating. You picked at your tray with your plastic fork, and with each bite of the food you cringed. The toast was also completely rock hard, “It helps if you dip it in water,” Your head snapped up as you felt a shadow over you before someone took a seat beside you. 

You weren’t expecting someone so young and you certainly weren’t expecting a friendly smile. You stared at the handsome man with your mouth agape. You hadn’t realized what he meant until you looked back down at the bread in your hands, “Oh … I doubt anything would make this edible-”

He ran his hand through his light brown hair, before reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit. On the table in front of you, he placed a twinkie. The entire room seemed to go quiet for a moment and you realized that everyone was watching the two of you. 

“I can’t accept this …”

“Of course you can, it’s no big deal,” His brown eyes pierced into yours as he shrugged, “I’m Peter.”

The sugary, process food was calling your name but you still weren’t sure what his deal was, “T-Thank you,” Not wanting to come off rude, you accepted it, unknowingly beginning to seal your fate, “I’m … I’m-”

“Y/N Y/LN,” He finished for you which left your eyes wide with shock, “You’re already famous. The guards like to gossip and it’s rare we get new inmates so people get curious.”

“Oh,” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. 

“Don’t worry, some people in here care about your charges, how you got here, but not me,” He tried to reassure you, a smile tugging at his lips, “S.H.I.E.L.D. screwed us all and I don’t think there’s a point in playing who’s the better bad guy.”

You looked around. Now that you knew that people knew your charges and your history, you were starting to feel unsettled. The only thing keeping you grounded was him reassuring you that he didn’t care, “How long-” Your voice came out in a whisper, “How long have you been here?”

Peter took a breath as he thought for a moment, “Few years. Now I kinda forget that I was a normal teenager when this all started.”

Years. And he was a teenager when they brought him here? Did they have no limits to their cruelty?

“God,” You breathed out, overwhelmed, “I don’t think I can … do this-”

Peter reached out, placing a calm hand on your arm, “Hey, hey, you have to survive here. Whether you were meant to be here or not, you have to live like this is your reality. Looking like you’re about to vomit is not a good look to everyone else. I saw Loki over there … he’s an asshole touching you like that  but it’s because he’s already sniffed you out.”

You nodded, trying to stay calm, “But I don’t know how to look … to look less weak.”

“For one, you’re going to have to start eating more and building some muscle,” You could tell by his grip on your arm that he was quite strong, “And the next time someone disrespects you, you have to stand up for yourself. You also can’t just bark like a little chihuahua. Maybe you could pick someone out, someone that you could win in a fight against.”

As Peter started to scan the room, you immediately started shaking your hand, “I can’t just attack someone,” You whisper-shouted, your eyes wide with worry. 

Peter chuckled, “Not with that attitude. Maybe you could go for Heather over there,” He eyed a woman who was practically elderly, “She has a cane so even you could probably overpower though I’ve seen here use the thing as a weapon a few times-”

“Peter,” You spoke sharply, “There has to be another way.”

Peter looked into your eyes and you lost hope for a moment until he seemed to perk up, “I have some friends, we kind of run together in this place, looking out for each other,” Peter explained and you listened intently, hoping for a means of survival that didn’t require attacking an old lady, “I could probably convince them to start looking out for you too. But it won’t be easy, we take loyalty very seriously here, and it wouldn’t be without a cost to you.”

“What sort of cost?”

Peter shrugged, “Could be lots of things. They serve plums on Friday and Bucky loves those so maybe you’d show your support to the group by giving him yours. Something like that,” You followed Peter’s finger as he pointed two men out, one with dark hair and the other with light. Both were built like bodybuilders, “Steve’s a respected leader here and maybe you could help run messages for him.” 

You nodded, “T-That sounds fair,” You paused for a moment as the men eyed you, “And for the twinkie? What do you want?”

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Peter grinned, “Eat it and that means you accept our claim. You’re one of us.”

“Can’t I have time to think about it?” 

Peter seemed to hesitate for the first time, “I’m sure you won’t get a better offer,” Your face fell, “But sure. I’d be quick about it though. Those big, doe eyes aren’t going to work on everybody.”

+

The dark-haired one was following you. Loki, Peter called him, hadn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you parted ways with Peter yesterday. He and his greek god, blonde friend were now walking behind you as you made your way through the halls. They were pushing mop buckets, evidently taking a break from their cleaning duty. 

You had gotten lost trying to find the hospital wing and now you were paying the consequences. 

“Little bird … caged and unprotected,” He taunted you and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to keep from looking back,  “Not even the guards want to save her. Poor thing.”

“It seems she’s in need of protecting, brother.”

“Protecting? If I got my hands on her, the last thing I’d think of is being gentle-”

You turned into the first room you passed, expecting to find somewhere to hide but you only seemed to encounter more people. It was the TV room, a staticy old television airing a baseball game was hanging in the corner of the room, and a bunch of men were sitting at different tables. 

They all turned their heads to you as you interrupted and you immediately recognized the two men from Peter’s loyal “group”. Bucky and Steve. Your heart was out of your chest at the point and you found yourself whispering a “sorry” before turning back towards the door. Loki and his brother, however, were waiting patiently. 

Loki leaned in the doorway, eyeing you like you were fresh meat. 

“Is this jackass bothering you, hon?” Your eyes wide with fear, you quickly realized that it wasn’t Loki taunting you. The dark-haired man’s, you remembered Peter calling him Bucky, voice boomed through the room.

You froze.

“Don’t you have toilets to scrub, Laufeyson?” The light hair man with a thick beard spoke, and by the look on his face you could tell he was a man of power. Not so much power-hungry but someone that demanded respect and often received it. 

Loki scoffed, looking over you again, “As far as I know, this one is free territory.”

“Well, this room is my territory and guess where she happens to be standing,” Loki’s jaw clenched at Steve’s words. 

“C’mere, hon,” Bucky spoke to you, signaling to cross the room. She hesitated but only for a moment as you realized your choices were Peter’s friends or letting Loki, have you. You crossed the room cautiously towards them, everyone now looking at you. You paused awkwardly in front of the table but a small yelp left your lip as Bucky grabbed you by the arm, spinning you into his lap. 

“See,” Steve said as you uncomfortably tried your best not to squirm, “Don’t touch things that aren’t yours, Laufeyson.”

You felt a hand clench your thigh and cringed.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

As soon as Loki stormed away, you stood up, brushing whatever wrinkles had formed in your jumpsuit. Amused, Bucky smiled at you, “You could at least thank us,” Bucky leaned forward and you tried not to scowl. 

“Thank you,” You whispered. 

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked. 

“Lang, get Y/N a chair,” Steve ordered another man in the room. He was quick to obey the command and, even though you were in a new place, you felt you’d been transported into an entirely new planet. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Sit,” Steve said as the chair was placed beside you, “You can leave when you give us an answer to the offer Peter mentioned yesterday.”

You had thought long and hard about Peter’s offer and decided last night that you wanted to reject it. It wasn’t until now that you realized your decision was a mistake. There was no telling when you’d be getting out of this place, Peter had been here for years, and it seemed you were already a target. 

You’d even heard a rumor that the guards placed bets on how long you’d survive in here. 

“Yes …” You nodded your head, “That’s my answer.”

Steve's lips pulled into a small grin as he eyed his friend across the table, “Good choice, doll.”

+

A week later and you were still alive and relatively untouched. Bucky was quite handsy but Peter reminded you that it was just protocol. Everyone had to know that you were a part of their group and that, if you were harmed, they’d have to deal with Steve and his minions. 

Like Peter said, there were quite a few sacrifices you had to make. Your new job in the kitchen allowed you to provide the group with all the food they wanted and when you weren’t working, you were running errands for Steve. You got an idea of all the inmate leaders and how they functioned as a society. 

Steve seemed to be at the very top and you realized the possible consequences of crossing someone like him. Still, you felt more pampered than like you were a part of some elaborate prison gang. Most of your wishes were theirs to grant. 

They let you watch whatever you wanted in the TV room. Bucky always called you pet names that you were starting to grow fond of. Steve had some pull with the guards so Rumlow was never around to bother you anymore. Peter even found you a set of paints to occupy your time in your cell. As long as you followed them around like their cute little puppy, they were quite nice to you. 

“C’mon, run a lap with me. You gotta build your strength,” Peter asked you, his face sweaty and shining under the baking sun. He was shirtless, the shirtsleeves of his uniform wrapped around his waist, and his magnificent physique was on display just like Steve and Bucky’s. During rec time in the courtyard, you’d become accustomed to standing by the fence and watching them lift weights. 

“I’m good, thanks,” You smiled awkwardly, “I get tired just from watching you guys.”

“Peter’s right,” Steve let out a breath as he dropped his hundred-pound dumbbell.

“I just …” Your voice trailed off as Steve eyed you with his strong gaze. You knew that what he said goes but you were growing nervous, “I don’t want to get sweaty.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky chimed in, a curious look on his face. 

“Is that like a girl thing I don’t know about?” Peter flashed you an amused look and your cheeks began to heat with embarrassment. 

“Y/N?” Steve could see that you were hiding something.

You crossed your arms, sighing, “I just don’t want to have to shower, okay?”

“You haven’t showered since you’ve been here?” Peter asked incredulously. 

“I have!” You quickly defended yourself, “I mean, I’ve just been using the sink in my cell.”

“I see what this is about,” Bucky had a knowing look on his face, “Dollface is scared of the communal showers.”

Peter’s mouth formed the shape of an “o” as he realized what was going on. You still felt so embarrassed. It was yet another thing that made you seem totally defenseless. 

“Is that true?” Steve asked and you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by their concerned gazes, “Why didn’t you tell us? Next time, one of us will keep watch for you. No one’s gonna bother you.”

Maybe it was the isolation or the fact that your life would never be the same again. Maybe it was the fact that you’d never see your family again or that you cried yourself to sleep every night. That might be the reason you felt that they genuinely cared for you and why you wanted to fully embrace the comfort that they were providing. 

Maybe that was why you wanted to belong to them. 

+

For the first time, you were reminded of your old life. You weren’t sure how long you’d lost yourself under the water, letting time get away from you, as the warm water cascaded along your skin. The showers had a sorry excuse for water pressure and, despite the creepiness of the beige tiles and flickering light above, when you closed your eyes you were in paradise. 

“All clean, beautiful?” Bucky’s voice brought you out of your trance. Suddenly you were back in the square room with showerheads lining each wall. You wiped the water from your eyes before turning off the water. 

“Y-Yes, I’m almost done!” You shouted back, grabbing your towel from off the hook. You pressed it to your face, drying your skin. You were quite grateful that they’d taken the extra steps to make you feel protected, “Bucky-”

As you turned around, that feeling of gratitude quickly turned to something resembling fear. He was supposed to wait for you outside the bathroom and yet, there he was, only three feet away from you. 

“What are you-”

He looked over you hungrily and you pressed your towel closer to your body, “You have no idea how long it's been since I’ve been with a beautiful woman like you … Steve too. And Peter, he’s just learning the ropes.”

You took a step back, towards the wall, and as you did you caught a glimpse behind Bucky’s towering figure. Both Steve and Peter were here, stalking closer. 

“You said you’d protect me…” Your voice cracked, your hands beginning to shake. 

“We will,” Steve spoke, determined, “No one else but us will touch you.”

“Nothing in here is without a cost, Y/N,” Peter seemed a bit solemn like his current life was not what he wanted it to be but he was just as hungry, if not more, as Bucky. 

Bucky grabbed you then, his eyes impatient, and you wrestled for your towel for only a moment before he easily snatched it away from you. A helpless squeal left your mouth as he grabbed you by the arm with one hand and placed his other hand between your legs. He grabbed your thigh tightly and as his hand moved further up, you found yourself paralyzed. 

“Good girl. You’re going to take all of us,” Bucky spoke quietly, shushing you, his grip growing tighter and tighter. Before you knew it, all three of them were surrounding you, their curious hands wandering over your wet skin. Grabbing your breast, your thighs, turning your face to bite at your neck. 

“Get on your knees,” Steve grunted against your ear, growing impatient like his friend. 

When you didn’t move, Peter was the one to push you down onto the cold floor. You hiccuped, trying not to hyperventilate as they overwhelmed you from each side. As they all started to pull down their clothes, you made one final attempt at trying to crawl away. 

Steve grabbed you by your throat, making your efforts futile, pushing your face towards his crotch. You felt it, hard and throbbing against your cheek, “Open up, don’t make this hard, doll,” Through the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky stroking his own length, waiting patiently for his turn. 

Steve grabbed you by your hair next, pressing your closed lips against his tip. He forced himself in your mouth, “There you go,” Steve grunted, pushing himself deeper, “Move that tongue around.”

Steve Rogers could make your life a living hell in the Cage. Was this really the price you had to pay in order to survive here? You couldn’t imagine it being any worse than this but Steve could make that possible. That’s why you started to swirl your tongue like he said, deciding that their orgasms would end your pain. 

Bucky was much rougher than Steve, pinching your nose closed and enjoying watching your eyes widen and water. He practically touched the back of your throat and still commanded you to stroke Peter and Steve’s cocks with your hands while you took him in your mouth. Somehow, you managed. 

Peter was much more gentle and you were grateful for that. His hands rested softly on the back of your head, guiding your mouth slowly up and down his length, “God, this is awesome,” He cursed, his head tilting back as he enjoyed the stimulation. When he finally finished, his warmth filled your mouth and before you could spit or catch your breath, Bucky grabbed you again. 

He came so far down your throat that you were forced to swallow it but, unlike him, Steve took his time, “This little mouth. Is ours. Every single hole. Is ours. No one else, do you understand?” With each sentence, he thrust hard until he filled your mouth. You leaned over, coughing as you felt the stinging of your sore throat. 

You were about to collapse onto the dirty cold floor when gentle arms lifted you up into a broad chest. You found yourself not fighting, only pressing your face into Bucky’s chest as you began to sob. 

Steve didn’t have to say anything more. You understand your new position and there wasn’t anyone else there to save you from that fate. 

That night you learned there was a change to your cell assignment. You’d sleep in Steve’s arms, a little bird that was safe and protected in it’s cage. 

+

hope you enjoyed!! i’m posting this instead of sleeping because I have class in this morning :) 

#dark fic #dark peter parker #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!peter #dark!bucky #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!stucky x reader #peter parker #steve rogers #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #steve rogers au #prison au #polyamory #menage #peter parker smut #bucky barnes smut #stucky x reader #winter spider #tom holland #chris evans #sebastian stan #the devil all the time

[plutodexay]

Peter Parker imagine

This idea was all over the place word count wise and my brain was very weird when I wrote it but I think its adorable. Also I can’t think of a title for the life of me sorry

This can be read as any Peter parker you want but just know my mind was filled with Andrew Garfield the entire time

(1351)

It was late, the moon was rising as the streets were silent with the occasional passing car roaring by as if speed limits don’t apply past midnight. That was the standard for this time of night, I think. This was not my usual midnight routine, normally I would be in bed or on the phone, not walking, by myself, at midnight, to my boyfriends house. 

Peter’s place was only a thirty minute walk from mine, and it was almost always him coming over to mine. But he wasn’t answering his phone for the past few hours without saying goodnight, and he always says goodnight. He’s the one who makes sure its said, and I don’t think there has been a day I’ve known him where he fell asleep before me, so all of this was leading me to freak out.  More than likely he would freak out because of me walking over here alone, but at this point I didn’t care. 

I was only a few minutes into my walk when I saw the lights flicker in a building on my path, quickly after that a slam was heard inside the place. Stupidly, I walked closer trying to see what was going on, before I made eye contact with someone inside the building. They just stared at me while crashes continued happening around them.

I felt stuck, my eyes were glued to theirs, my heart was racing so fast I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Their head was turning left to right as the lights started flickering once again, and flashes of red and blue started appearing behind them. Arm raising they tried to hit whatever was flying around them, yet every movement only resulted in more flashing before eventually the flash of red knocked him over, shaking out of whatever trace I had been stuck in I started running, it took me a second to remember which way was Peters before I ran with everything I had in me. I heard a few more crashes before I ran into something blocking my way and falling down.

“Are you alright?” A panicked yet familiar voice rang out, looking up at them I noticed it was the flash of red I saw before. There were a few scrapes and cuts covering his body, in a panic I looked back towards the building only to see no movement inside and the lights had stopped flickering. Looking up at the face before me is when I saw the mask.

“You’re spiderman” My voice came out in a whispered tone, cracking towards the end. They held their hand out towards me, motioning me to grab it. Doing so the masked person pulled me up ever so carefully. I could feel their hand shaking under the fabric of the suit, their whole body read panicked and I swore I heard their breath stutter for a moment. 

They gave me a slight nod before looking me all over, presumably checking for any signs of injuries similar to the ones they had. 

“What are you doing out this late” Their voice came out in a hushed tone, hand still holding mine and shaking while looking me straight in the eyes, almost as if they were personally concerned. 

“I was walking to my boyfriends, he wasn’t answering so I wanted to make sure he was okay” I rushed out, the adrenaline of the entire past few minutes catching up to me. 

Sirens started sounding off past the building, slowly getting louder and louder the longer we stood there. It wasn’t until the lights of the cars started to flash near us that the stare down we were somehow doing ended. 

“Well alright then” They coughed all while making their voice obviously deeper than it was. “Just get there safe” Continuing to try and push the fake voice on me, they nodded stiffly before walking past me. I followed their path for a moment until they headed down an alley and the lights got even brighter. 

Once again I started running towards Peter’s as the sirens got quieter behind me. I kept running until I got to the outside of his apartment building. Rushing inside I pushed the elevator button practically non stop until the thing finally opened. I could still feel my heart racing while I tried to stand still in the elevator only to realize I had yet to press his floor button. 

Pacing back and forth as the elevator traveled up all I could think about was hugging Peter, and explaining to him all the chaos that just happened. What had happened though, was it a bank robbery? Some angry bank employees? The mafia? 

Thankfully the doors opened before my thought process could get even more insane, I stared at the open doors for a moment before rushing out of them as fast as I could. Nearly slamming my head on a wall as I turned the corner. Peter’s apartment was already unlocked as I opened the door with the knowledge of Aunt May not being home so I didn’t have to worry about waking her. Going up to Peter’s bedroom I knocked on the door as many times as I could before he opened the door, which was extremely quick, almost as if he had been standing right behind it. 

Looking up at him I noticed how tired he looked, the bags under his eyes were much darker than they normally are with how little sleep he gets. There was no small blush on his cheeks but rather just pale skin, paler than his already extremely pale skin. He was wearing an old sweater that practically fell off of him that he only wore when he was stressed. 

I felt all the adrenaline leave my body when I looked at him, normally he smiled whenever I pulled something similar to this but tonight was different. Hell, he looked like he’d just lived his worst nightmare. 

“What’s wrong?” The moment I spoke Peter cracked, lunging towards me he wrapped his arms around my torso as tight as he possibly could before burying his head into the crook of my neck. His chest was quickly rising and falling against my own as he continued to try and hold me harder. 

Getting over the initial shock of the hug, I shot my hands around him. One going around his back and the other reaching to run through his hair in a calming manor. My hand kept getting stuck in the mess which held more to how bad he felt, everything about him just seemed so panicked.

“Missed you” He mumbled into my neck after standing in silence for however long passed by, arms still impossibly tight around me. 

“I missed you too” I wanted to bring up how he was the one who didn’t answer my calls but ultimately decided against it given his state, and that he was hugging me so hard it simply hurt to talk to much. 

“Was scared you got hurt, heard sirens” He mumbled once again, but this time he brought his face out of my neck to look at me, his hand reaching up and gently cupping my face and his thumb moved back and forth over my cheekbone.

“I’m alright I promise” I smiled at him before leaning up to kiss him, our lips touching ever so softly before parting once again. 

We stayed staring at each other for a few moments before he moved his hand from my cheek to grab my own hand. Quickly he started pulling me towards his bed before falling onto it. Letting go of my hand, he stretched his arms out waiting for me to climb in between them. Laughing, I laid down in his arms and he wrapped the around me once again, kissing the top of my head whispering different affections over and over until soft snores started to leave his mouth. 

It didn’t even come to mind to ask how he knew I was near the bank, or heard the sirens when they were nowhere near his place

Tag list: @venxaax @somber-starlight-wasteland

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman x reader #amazing spider man #spiderman #andrew garfield #the amazing spider man #imagine #spider man imagine #peter parker imagine #imagines #x reader #creative writing #my writing #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #fluff #peter parker fluff #tom holland #toby maguire #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #oneshots #fluff oneshot

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 15

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mentions of panic attack, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Would you like to explain to me why you’re here?”

“I think you already know why I’m here.”

Your therapist eyed you annoyingly at the bitter response. After your little episode during sex, Bucky had finally put his foot down. He realized you clearly weren’t getting anywhere on your own and he wasn’t the most equipped to give you the care you needed, so he set up a therapy appointment for you. 

The therapist was under the same practice as Bucky’s own but he made it very clear you two couldn’t see the same doctor. You’d never admit it, but you were thankful for that. You couldn’t imagine sitting across from the woman who Bucky also dumped his trauma onto. 

So, that was how, after some intense back and forth with Bucky, you ended up in front of a therapist you couldn’t remember the name of. It was pathetic, really, but in your defiance, you hadn’t learned her name. As if that somehow kept you disconnected from the whole process. At best, you knew her name started with a G and that’s all you were going to go off of.

“Sure,” Dr. G shrugged and glanced at your file. “I know what happened to you but why are you here? What made you want to see someone?”

You sighed. “It was just time.”

“Why?”

You slammed your hand on the side of the couch in frustration. It had been this weird back and forth for the last ten minutes. Honestly, you were hoping you could just drain the time but this doctor wasn’t giving either of you the luxury.

“What would you like me to say, huh?” You spat out, a new kind of anger springing within you. The dam wall had broken. “Do you want to hear about how for almost my entire life I haven’t been able to escape the nightmares of my soulmate? Or about how I get one little moment of peace with him and then it all goes to absolute shit? Because that’s just how the cookie fucking crumbles, isn’t it?” You bit your lip, holding back from the sob rising in your burning throat. But you certainly weren’t done. You forced on, “Maybe you’d like to listen to me ramble on about how my own goddamn apartment feels like a prison. Or how I can’t even have sex with my soulmate because everything, every little fucking thing, reminds me of that night. And it’s not just enough to remember it, I guess. Huge shoutout to whatever kind of soulmate bond this is.” You paused. “I was barely gone for two days and somehow it hurt me, it damaged me. But, really, it shouldn’t have, right? It was nothing compared to-,” Him. His experiences. Your words got stuck as you gasped, letting the sadness roll over you. The tears were flowing freely now. 

You just didn’t understand. You didn’t understand your reaction to any of this. You were barely touched, never even experimented on yet you couldn’t seem to actually escape it. You were flinching at touches. Backing out of sex. Not to mention the images of Bucky. Real images, no longer just dreams, but almost like your memories came into play. You were forced to be stuck in a tragic playback of that time. Over and over, every night, and you were to move on? Yet how does all of this come about from being gone for a few hours? You felt there was maybe more to this all and anxiety gnawed at you about it.

Your therapist sighed and placed your file on her side table. She leaned forward, hands clasped together. “Trauma is trauma, no matter how small or insignificant your brain thinks it is.” She passed you a tissue which you accepted.

You dabbed your eyes. “It’s just not fair,” you mumbled. “I finally found him and now I fear I’m ruining it.”

“You aren’t ruining it,” the therapist insisted. “You went through something catastrophic and your mind is reacting. It’s beyond justified. Don’t you think he, out of everyone else in this world, understands that?”

You gave a pathetic shrug knowing she’s completely correct. But that wasn’t how this was supposed to work. You should’ve been his rock, right? 

“Well,” Dr. G sighed as she leaned back in her seat, “I think he understands and you have no reason to beat yourself up over it. You aren’t responsible for any of it. You’re just responsible for recovering and, sorry to say, that isn’t exactly done overnight.”

You scoffed. “Well, where does it begin?”

“Talking,” she said. “Brainstorming. Shooting the shit. Whatever you want to call it, just find a way to let it out of here.” Dr. G motioned towards her heart. You felt your own pounding.

***

Bucky was right where you had left him sitting in one of the chairs in the corner of the waiting room. He didn’t notice you at first as he was engrossed in some technology magazine. You couldn’t help but notice how interested yet relaxed he was. He really did have a bit of a nerdy side to him. 

“What’s so fascinating?” You asked, taking a seat next to him. He jumped a little at your sudden appearance. You held back a chuckle, finding it quite amusing you could surprise the ex-assassin.

Bucky looked back at the magazine and shrugged. “Some new tiny cameras this company in Europe developed. Smaller than your pinky yet has the quality of a full-fledged camera, or so they claim.”

You smiled at his light skepticism. For a man that was easily wowed by the world he sure was hesitant to indulge in it - hence the flip phone he still kept insisted on. 

With a sigh, Bucky closed the magazine and placed it back on the table. He looked towards you again and asked, “How did it go?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to talk about it, but that also sort of beat the purpose of getting guidance from a therapist. She emphasized that communication was a major key - for both of you. You didn’t want to dismiss that advice right away but you also didn’t exactly want to make your soulmate more concerned than he already was. He had insisted on coming with you to this appointment despite being confined to the waiting room. Bucky didn’t mind, clearly overshadowed by the worry showcased on his face.

“I have to tell you a few things if you’d like to accompany me back home.”

“Home?” He frowned. “Home as in-,”

You shook your head. “My apartment.”

Wordlessly, Bucky stood and outstretched his hand towards you. You mustered up a smile the best you could, letting him guide you out of the building and onto the city sidewalk. 

For as many concerns as you had running through you, you were finding some new sense of pride walking down the street with Bucky. Your soulmate. You had felt something there beyond it all. 

How many times had you walked these streets simply letting your gaze wander about hoping to just spot him? And then you didn’t even find him in the most conventional way. 

But you had to remind yourself of that hopeful gazing you partook in for many weeks. All you had to go off of was his actions. His violent, albeit unwilling, actions. And yet, in all that, you still wanted to meet him. Wanted to hear his voice and maybe get a peek into what he may be like. You certainly got way more than you had bargained for. And you wanted to keep it. Maybe you had been forgetting that in your worries of ruining it. These worries stemmed from wanting. You just had to remind yourself. 

You two had been lost in your own worlds. You were quite surprised by how quickly you had arrived at your apartment building. Everything outside of it was the same like the world had just stood still. You dropped Bucky’s hand and began fumbling for your keys. He kept a protective arm around your waist, trying to offer some comfort for the daunting task. 

After a shaky moment, you led him inside and up the stairs where your apartment door sat, seemingly untouched. You knew that wasn’t exactly the case. Agents had been in and out of your apartment upon your disappearance, Bucky had explained, but they must’ve been stealthy ones. It looked like every other door. 

And, really, that’s all it was, you told yourself. It’s just a door. It’s a first step, your therapist had claimed, but it was also just a door. You had wrestled with yourself over this concept for a while now and here it was in front of you. 

“You don’t have to do this.” Bucky’s voice broke your concentration. “You’re more than welcome at the compound. No one would blame you if you - you wanted to stay.”

“I know,” you sighed. “Thank you but I don’t want to wallow in it.”

Bucky didn’t say anything more and just nodded his head once in understanding. Taking a deep breath, you unlocked the door and flung it open.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. Part of you was ready to be ambushed by Hydra men. Another part of you thought the place would be a wasteland. But neither of those was the case. It was just...normal. It looked exactly how you remember leaving it in all its worn-down glory. Relief washed over you. 

You walked in as you had a million times before and threw your bag on the couch. You headed straight for the kitchen, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge. Bucky didn’t comment on anything and just took a seat on your couch, waiting.

Making your back to the couch, you offered Bucky water but he declined. Amazingly, you floated around the apartment with no worries. It felt like you never left while also felt like you were reclaiming. 

You took a seat next to Bucky, keeping some space between your bodies.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” Bucky suddenly asked. You glanced back at him nervously. If he was at all anxious, he sure wasn’t showing it. Damn that assassin mentality.

“That nightmares have come back,” you admitted. The words landed like a million little bombs around the apartment. Bucky leaned back on the couch, his eyes wide with concern. 

“What?” It was all he seemed able to manage to say. 

You shifted on the couch uncomfortably, mentally working up the courage to continue on. “It all started back up after that… that night,” you explained. “I-I was suddenly seeing you fighting those men. I was seeing pretty much into your brain, feeling all that anger and relentless rage.” You paused. “I couldn’t believe it, really. I hadn’t had a single nightmare ever since we got together and now...it’s like a million steps back and I don’t know how to fix it. The doctor suggested talking and that’s what I want, Buck. You can’t turn away. Not right now.”

Bucky wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead taking strong interest in picking at your couch cushion. He seemed quite uncomfortable, which was beyond understandable, but he also had to have heard your pleas. 

“Y-You see all that?” He finally asked, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Just on a playback loop? Despite us being connected, really connected.”

You didn’t know what to do besides nod in confirmation. Bucky let out a deep sigh.

“And this, on top of everything else, hasn’t been helping you to recover, has it?”

You shook your head. Bucky now looked like he wanted to put his fist through your door. Tears welled in his eyes. 

“Of course not,” Bucky mumbled. “I-I thought it was supposed to get better.”

“Me too,” you admitted. “I didn’t tell the therapist this but I… Well, I fear there’s something faulty with this bond.”

The thought had initially popped in your head out of nowhere. One night you were half-awake, already witnessing the shine of Bucky’s arm as his hand contracted around the goon’s throat, when you began trying to think about the good memories. The reader Bucky you got to see. How lovely that was to bring up. How the conversation that followed was refreshing, fun. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything like that up again because you lost them. It took a bit for your theory to prove certain but once it was, you realized, you were stuck. 

But you also hadn’t exactly wanted to act on this theory, figuring this could be handled on your own. Date night proved wrong. 

Bucky eyed you, curiously. “What do you mean?”

“It’s very challenging to recover from something when it’s the only thing you’re reminded of, right? Well, that’s the case, nightly. Despite how serious we are in this relationship, it’s cutting through, even though it seemed like in the beginning…” Your words trailed, a bit unsure. You changed the focus. “The memories and thoughts are still transmitted disturbing reminders. I can talk about it until I’m blue in the face, but I just don’t think that’s all there is to it. The bond isn’t letting me move on regardless of our circumstances. Everything you saw...”

Your soulmate nodded in his attempt to understand where this was going. You even had to admit, it was sounding a bit bizarre. You did think it was just trauma and in many ways, it is. It all comes back to the trauma derived from the situation but to have to relive it through your soulmate’s eyes. To have to see him personally killing someone was just… It was a whole new level of memories. You were personally attached to them. You weren’t just living through it in some fucked up metaphorical way - you actually had lived it. Besides - it shouldn’t be this way.

“You think we need to see someone about it,” Bucky concluded.

Hesitantly, you confirmed his suspicions. “Are there really doctors who study it? I've heard rumors but I’ve never seen someone.” Thinking of it now, you never knew why you didn’t. Probably because those who studied soulmate bonds were truly myths. There wasn’t exactly anything tangible to study. Who was going to waste their time?

Bucky shrugged. “I think I may know someone.”

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #soulmate au #while you sleep #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fic #avengers #fluff #angst

[ghostmacandcheese]

Heaven help the fools chapter 3

(Hello! I hope you like this fanfic. It’s going to be five chapters, that way I can put a good amount of detail into the story. It isn’t a Y/N reader, as the main character does have a name, and if it seems strange or annoying the way the conversations flow or the way things are described, sorry, that's just how i think and react to things. While most of the stuff in this is false, obviously, there will be a note at the end of each chapter letting you guys know what was actually real from personal experiences! Hope you all enjoy, i know i had a lot of fun writing this!)

Summery: you meet Steven in the museum gift shop and become fast friends, and maybe something even more!

Pairing: just Steven x female reader

Warnings: some swearing, being the family disappointment, sleep disorders,

Genre: fluff, meet-cute, friends to lovers

Chapter 3: wasteland, baby

It had been about two weeks now since that first time going to the coffee shop with steven, and about every day after, the both of you found some excuse to hang out. He gave you regular tours of the museum, and even though they were all basically the same, you always said yes when he asked, purely to just listen to him talk so excitedly and passionately about his obsession. You've learned a lot about him since the first time you met him, and he now knew a lot about you, but that was just because he was so easy to talk to that you couldn't help but open up to him. He listened to everything really intently, and wouldn't interrupt unless he got excited. He was kind and seemed to genuinely care, and that made you feel important.

You learned that he had a sleeping disorder, lives alone, never had a girlfriend, and loves jazz. He likes to bake, but never has any time, and is an avid collector of tiny seashells. I don't think I've ever been happier to know someone can collect tiny seashells because they love the swirl pattern in their shells.

I roll over and check my phone, confirming my suspicions. It was 3 am, and I was still awake. Even worse, I was thinking about steven, instead of sleeping. “God, I need a hobby. D you think he's up now? Should I text him? Ugh, no, that would seem too obvious.” I get up out of bed and pace around the open floor in my living room, trying to figure out what I could do, and whether I should call him or not. I decide to pull out my earbuds and play my sleeping playlist, shuffling it until I found the perfect song. I lay on my bed while Wasteland, Baby by Hozier filled my ears. I close my eyes and let the song wash over me, letting it lull me into almost sleep when my music stops. I check my phone to see what's wrong and see steven is calling me! Shit shit shit what do I do? Do I answer? I mean, he'd probably be upset if I didn't answer, yeah, I'll answer.

“Hello?”

“H-hey, I wasn't sure if you'd be awake! Glad to see I'm not the only one with sleep issues.”

“Hmm, yeah, I haven't been able to fall asleep all night.” and it's all your fault, you absolute moron, do you know what this is doing to me right now?

“Was there something you needed?” I ask, trying not to sound rude so he wouldn't think I was angry.

“O-oh, uh, not really, I, uh, just wanted to um, I just wanted to talk to you, i-guess. If this is a bad time, I can go.” he sounded so sad, that I couldn't say no to him.

“No, it's fine, I don't have work tomorrow, so I don't care if I can't fall asleep right now. Anyway, what are you up to? Anything interesting to pass the time?”

“Eh, you know, just puzzles, books, anything to keep my brain active, I guess. What about you?”

“I mean, I was thinking of starting a painting, but I'm not really sure of what. Maybe something psychedelic so I can mess around with neons and glow in the dark? A huge canvas of glowing neon eyes would be pretty cool.”

“I-are you being serious?”

“I'll be honest, at first I was joking, but that actually sounds like a really cool idea. Like, it's one face in the light, and another when you turn off the lights? I don't know. I've got a big canvas and glow-in-the-dark paint, though, so I guess we’re gonna find out, huh.” I started heading to the back corner crawl space where I keep my painting supplies, and steven starts talking about the eye and its symbolism in Egypt. Eventually, he stops, and I realize I've been quiet the whole time I've been painting.

“Steven, why’d you stop talking?” I ask, thinking something happened or he fell asleep.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you found me boring and I was afraid I had put you to sleep or something.”

“Oh.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I'm sorry, I just got so focused listening to you while painting I completely forgot to talk. If I'm being honest, I probably would fall asleep to you talking.” I hear a disappointed “oh” from the other end of the phone before I could finish my sentence. “No, not because your boring, because your voice is so nice and relaxing it makes me wanna fall asleep. I like sleeping to constant noise, and your voice has such a nice cadence that I could listen to you talk all night long and comfortably fall asleep to it. I didn't mean it rudely, don't worry.”

“O-oh, ok. So… you like my voice?” he sounded so timid, it was like a small child asking if their playground crush liked the drawing they made them.

“yes, steven, I like our voice,” I said with a smile. “I like a lot of things about you, actually. I like the fact that you love Egypt so much you could talk about it all day, that your hair looks really soft and is always slightly messy, and that you always listen with 100% interest to what I'm saying, even if you don't really want to, and that you respect my boundaries and personal space. I like the fact that you smell like an old library and the incense used in the Egyptian wing, and that you drink coffee every hour of the day and still look exhausted. I love how excited you get when listening to me talk, and how much you love your goldfish. I love a lot of things about you, steven grant.” I let it all out in one breath, feeling like I just shared a part of me I had never shared with anyone before. Steven was quiet for a while after that. Unbearably quiet.

“S-steven, are, are you ok?” I ask, nervous I had just ruined my only friend with my feelings.

‘I-you like all those things about me?”

“Yes,” I said, suddenly feeling really shy.

“You changed your wording, halfway through.”

“I-i did?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding thoughtful. ‘You started by saying you like a lot about me, and ended by saying you loved a lot about me.”

“I-i guess I did, huh.”

“So, um, w-which is it?”

“What?”

“Do you like me, or love me?” he sounded about as nervous as I felt, which is to say, incredibly nervous.

“Um, I mean, I guess, kina both, if that's ok?”

“Yeah, that's ok. I guess I feel both too. A-about you, I mean, not me.” I laughed at that.

“Ophelia,”

“Yes?”

“Would you, um, many wanna, wanna go out somewhere with me? Like, on a date? Not to any restaurants or anything, I know you get bad claustrophobia and anxiety when it comes to restaurants, but maybe somewhere else, outside maybe? Like in the park? We can make a day of it! Um, if that's ok?” he sounded so sweet, so genuine. This was truly what it felt like to be loved. To be important. To be cared about.

“Steven, I would love to”

“Oh, great, that's just great! Yeah, um, ill let you know the time and place, ya? I'll get it all figured out, don't worry.”

“Oh, I trust you.”

“Ok, well bye I guess,”

“Bye steven, I cant wait.”

“Bye Ophelia. Love you, laters, gators.”

He-he just said “I love you” to me! This is the day I die from happiness! You're going on a date! With STEVEN GRANT!! oh, and now that you are excited about it, not only will you not sleep for the next 3 hours, but you also get to cash in that free anxiety ticket you'd been holding on to for a rainy day, how fun! Sleep well!

‘Well,” I mutter to myself, I guess I better at least try to sleep somewhat once I finish this painting.” I take a deep breath, letting the full events of what just happened 15 minutes ago fully hit me.

“OH, MY GOD I'M GOING ON A DATE! FINALLY! AND HE'S SOOOOO HOOOOOOT!!!” I start jumping up and down, super excited until one of my neighbors knocks on my door and kindly reminds me with his middle finger it's now 4 in the morning, and he'd like to sleep.

“Sorry,” I whisper, “I just got a little excited, ill be going to bed now.” I close the door and walk over to my bed, falling in it, giggling like a teenage girl. This is the best day ever!

*end chapter authors note*

Hello! Glad you guys seem to be liking this series so far! So, quick update, i know i said six chapters, but I’m making it five, so that way i dont have an entire chapter of stupid stuff that’s unnecessary! Anyways, aside from that, here’s stuff about me that i put in this chapter!

1) i love jazz, baking, and collection tiny things, including seashells, since i happen to conveniently live by a beach

2) i paint quite a lot, and the painting Ophelia makes is something i actually really want to paint soon

3) i have pretty bad anxiety and claustrophobia when it comes to certain places like restaurants, so i generally feel safer outside

Anyway, thanks for reading!

#mcu x reader #mcu fluff #my fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction #mcu #meet cute #mr knight #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #x female reader #read more