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#my brain on lockdown mode right now

indigo-villin · 9 months

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Security breach ruin dlc spoiler post!!

This spoilers, all the til the end.

So Monty dies, i hate that.

Chica just flumps over and is done, I hate how they massacred her.

Roxy is screwed up, but at least she's saving Cassie too.

Freddy's body was left to get messed up.

The princess quest ending is clearly canon. Proof: Freddy's body left in fazer blast, in ar mode the princess quest 3 game has a golden sword stabbing it like a stereotypical hero killing the villian with a sword to the heart and heaving there sort of thing, the fact afton himself isn't really anywhere but the mimic is instead (and we see the blob for like a second doing its own thing in the underground).

We also finally see glamrock Bonnie's body... it's pretty messed up..

HEADCANONS BELOW

Now I'm gonna explain all the things I believe happened.

Monty didn't kill Bonnie. It was either afton and vanny for parts (which would explain why in his ending he could charge using one of the station pods), the rouge staff bots, or the mimic.

That is Freddy's body, I don't care if the word prototype is on the bottom, do you really think the company actually has the koney/motive to completely recreate a shell for then if not needed? If they did they could've EASILY fixed bonnie up.

Ruin happens during Cassie's birthday.

Gregory left Cassie, but I don't think he necessarily broke the elevator, if he did it would've been from a distance or by using some bot under his control since he IS patient 46 and a hacker according the the VERY CANON books.

The mimic didn't drop the elevator and wasn't the one talking through the speakers, it literally tossed away its communicater before the chase began and LOST AN ARM, which would've still been RIGHT NEXT to Cassie when she dropped.

Vanessa/Vanny is the friend Gregory was talking about, when he says his friends name the communicator garbles, which would happen if all her other hacked things were in place still. Her ar systems are still around, so it makes sense her name wouldn't come through on fazbear tech, especially after leaving. Plus what else fazbear couldn't notice her, specifically when in aftons control? The robots and security systems.

With vanny gone afton sort of just died out in the old pizza place with no reach with his virus and the mimic prowling around.

I'm done with headcanons now... I'm just.. I'm tired of people not using their brains, like Gregory in base game didn't need to dismantle anyone, he could've left instead of gone into Freddy's chest, he could've stayed with Fred in his room til 6am after missing the final lockdown, he could've stayed with sun, or told sun freddy was waiting outside, something. But no he destroyed these hulking animatronics cause he "was in survival mode" he took their upgrade and put them in Freddy, even refusing to tell him what was going on (freddy you dense motherf--). And now with the newest book out telling us he's a killer of, at minimum, 4 people. Could he be controlled by something at that time? Sure, probably, but we don't know. He wrongfully destroyed the animatronics who didn't do anything to him except what they were told, get a runaway kid, were they infected with a killing virus? Yes. Would he have known that at the beginning? Probably not, he didn't know til LATE into the game, after breaking Chica or Monty.

Im not gonna lie, gregory is the character I hate the most in this franchise, I hate him more than I do any variant of balloon boy/girl. I'd rather play the nightmare balloon boy game for an hour than play sb base game, and nightmare bb gives me nightmares.

Also if it's been like a year since the place broke down Gregory would NOT be so close to the plex to worry about being followed "oh but his communicator!!" Yeah if we go with him having to be in range for that then he'd be close enough to break the elevator, so pick a lane and shut up.

This has been my ruin dlc commentary and gregory hate post.

#fnaf security breach #ruin dlc spoilers #fnaf sb dlc #fnaf spoilers #I hate gregory #Cassie is best protag

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darling-in-wonderland · 2 years

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Now all that’s left is fallout. (Part 5). Thank you all that have taken the time to read this little series. Sadly, all arcs must end. I look forward to seeing you all in the next arc I’ll write for Darling. It’ll be a lot more lighthearted I promise haha.

CW: swearing, virus that makes people violent. Viewer discretion is advised.

Kill Your Darlings

(Part 6)

My eyes flutter open. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to focus. Before that, I notice that someone is cradling me. On pitiful instincts and a broken brain, I snuggle closer. My head is throbbing, preventing me from remembering how I got here. But I’m being held gently so I don��t mind. I sigh happily as my eyelids grow heavy once more.

Before I succumb to the darkness of sleep once more, I notice something more important.

Whoever is holding me is crying.

My eyes shoot open as pieces in my head start to fall into place. The virus. The cure. My best nightmare. My eyes finally focus. I’ve been caught by the Nightmare.

“Idia?” I croak, my throat sore.

“Darling?” I see him wipe his tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie.

He scoops me up closer and holds me tight. I can feel my cheeks get hot.

“I’m so sorry, Darling,” he manages to get out through sobs.

My heart is pounding as my head throbs. The lights are so bright…

“Darling has a concussion, Idia,” Ortho informs. “Be gentle.”

He gently sets me down on the floor.

“I’ll be right back, Ortho,” he stumbles over his words as he leaves.

The door closes as quietly as a butterfly gliding to a flower farther away. I don’t get up off the floor.

“He’s not coming back, is he?” I ask, but I already know the answer even before Ortho shakes his head.

I stare at the ceiling and heave a sigh. This is going to be a loooooong meeting with Crowley. After I get out of the infirmary.

***

“Oh! So that’s what happened this afternoon,” Crowley laments. “Has the press caught wind of this?”

“Not yet,” I respond, tired from the events of this afternoon (even though all of our injuries have been healed).

“We’ll leak it if you don’t answer some questions first,” Azul applies some pressure.

“Ortho did record everything,” I state since Ortho isn’t here.

“Fine, fine,” Crowley reclines in his office seat. “What is it you would like to ask?”

“First, where the hell were you?” I ask, doing my best to censor my language.

“Oh, well I was in my office. I initiated lockdown mode when it notified me that there was a foreign substance in the air that it automatically filtered out,” he smiles. I can feel my blood pressure spiking.

“How nice for you,” I respond, pissed.

“Next question,” Azul takes the floor. “What was it that infected everyone?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know,” he sighs. “Professor Crewel will be studying it these next few months, if either of you two want to help him.”

“Okay, final question,” I ready my statement, “what are you going to do to alleviate the psychological impact that this event had on the student body?”

“Oh!” Crowley claps and beams. “I’m just going to erase everyone’s memories of today! Aren’t I just the kindest headmaster?”

Wait. I’m in everyone. If I forget today, then I won’t remember when he-

“Good i-”

“That’s such a huge invasion of privacy,” I cut Azul off.

“Actually, fair point,” Azul agrees.

“Alright,” Crowley shrugs, “I guess I can just erase the trauma attached.”

“Wait you can do that?” Azul and I ask in synch.

“No more questions!” Crowley smiles once more. “I have a very busy day ahead of me now. Ta-ta!”

And with that, Azul and I leave his office.

“Wanna go play ‘Gloom?’” I ask him as we walk.

“Sure,” he smiles. “I wouldn’t want to be late for that meeting after all this.”

“We can even study for that Trein test after,” I remark.

“Busy day,” he states.

I echo, “Yeah. Busy day.”

The End.

There’s more Darling Adventures to be had! See you then!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst idia #twst oc #twst azul #twst ortho #twst fanfic #kill your darlings

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neostalgia · 5 years

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what if 😳😳we were diametrically opposed entities 💋😍on the opposite sides of an ineffable war (and we were an angel 😇 and a demon 😈)

#qi.txt #good omens #text #ok to rb #i really really should be working right now but my brain is still in a go lockdown mode #let me out. let me oout

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 4 years

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educate people & tell social stigma to fuck off with the help of technical language!

i’m having a depressive mood = “my brain isn’t correctly processing serotonin at the moment”

i can’t concentrate on a fucking thing bc adhd = “my brain is in full dopamine-seeking mode”

anxiety attack = “due to an unspecified perceived threat, my brain has elected to enter lockdown mode”

everything’s just a mess right now = “my neurotransmitters are a mess right now”

#just bc your brain is doing something doesn't mean YOU are doing it #there's a lot of automatic processes there we CAN'T control #you deserve to be able to separate your symptoms from your choices #some days living with mental disorders feels like a constant game of 'build a mousetrap'#where i have to come up with increasingly bizarre but effective ways to coerce my brain into doing the things it needs to #yes in this analogy my brain is the fucking mouse #my toolbox of coping skills are the increasingly wacky and zany tools i use to build the mousetrap #sometimes it helps to replace ‘i’ with ‘my brain’

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elius-learns-to-write · 3 years

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The one where being clumsy helps

Hey besties enjoy this :) Also the story about getting scared by a pigeon and smashing into a glass door was something I have actually done but the only difference was that I knocked myself out :)

The one where being clumsy came in handy

If there was one thing you could do it was managing to trip over your own feet

Seriously no one could make a trip to the kitchen look so dangerous

As much as it made the team worry it was bloody funny

Bang. Thud. Smash. “Ouch” you groaned from your newfound place on the cold tiles of the tower's kitchen, rubbing the now throbbing lump that had started to form on your head “Y/n are you okay?” Bucky called from the couch, pausing his game of UNO with Sam to check on you. “Yep…. dine… I mean fine….. Yep, I’m all Groot… Good….. Damn it” you stuttered as you tried to stand up. The floor swaying beneath your feet “are you sure you look like you’re going to throw up?” Sam wheezed, doubling over because obviously there was just nothing funnier than you nearly dying on the way to grab a glass of water. “I might throw up all over you in a minute if you don’t stop laughing” you glared as the man continued to laugh at you “don’t worry y/n the CCTV will catch that too” Bucky added with a chuckle walking over to you and pulling you into a hug. “Damn it” you muttered as the men made sure to get you back to your room in one piece

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“What have I told you about running around outside when it’s dark” Steve scolded as he patched up the cut on your forehead “to not do it” you replied as you cast your head to the floor in shame “but in my defense, the pigeon looked really scary and I didn’t know that Bruce had shut the glass door because if I had known I wouldn’t have tried to run into it” you smiled before hissing as the sanitizing wipe came into contact with your skin. “Well I would hope so” he muttered in concentration, trying to place the plaster in the right place “there all done, now go and convince Tony not to play that video at the next movie night,” he said, starting to put the first aid kit back in its place watching as you skipped out of the bathroom and into the bright light of the hallway.

It made for great entertainment for the avengers and great humiliation to you

But there was one clip he refused to show

It painted your lack of coordination way to well

You ran through the lab, up the stairs, into the hallway, and into a cupboard. And all without tripping up, you were on a role. However, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about how excellently you managed to do that. You see somehow someone ha damaged to break into the tower and with you being the only one who wasn’t trapped in the training room it was up to you to try and find whoever had got it. But the cupboard just looked a lot nicer than possibly getting shot.

“We’re doomed” spoke Tony as he watched your figure retreat into the cupboard, all you had to do was get into the front room and press the button to let them all out so they could do the finding, but by the looks of it, you weren’t too keen on that idea. “Maybe they’re just coming up with a plan Stark, don’t doubt their ability to do this” remarked Nat, who was sitting on what was meant to be a treadmill but was making a very comfortable seat.

Meanwhile, you were actually in the cupboard trying not to poke your eye out with a broom “okay think y/n, they’re in the lounge so if you distract them enough then maybe you can press the button and run like the wind in the other direction? Yeah okay I can do that.” hand slowly grabbing the handle and twisting it as quietly as it possibly was for a door that hadn’t been oiled in about a year, and dashing for the back of the island where you would be able to find out the intruders exact position. Sliding all over the place as you made your way into your established lookout spot you waited.

“They look like Bambi on ice out there” Sam spoke from the floor, arms folded across his chest, clearly displaying his dislike for the whole situation “Yes but at least it looks like they have a plan now” added Bruce, more worried about not going green than you looking like someone had turned the floor into a lake in the winter. “I am going to say it again. We are doomed” Tony muttered.

You could hear the man muttering about how quiet it was for a place that held the world's heroes as your eyes scouted the room in front of you for the button and your brain tried to formulate a way to get there. You ended up settling on just throwing a spoon at him, screaming, and then just making a run for it and hoping he didn’t have a gun. Swoosh, the spoon flew from your hands and hit the man in the back. “What the fuck was I thinking” you whisper screamed as you started to push off and run. “AHHHHHHHHHHH TAKE MY SPOON OF WRATH YOU PIECE OF SHIT”, time seemed to slow down as your foot got caught on the side of the couch and you toppled onto the man, catching the both of you by surprise, so you did the only thing that seemed reasonable in your adrenaline-fueled brain. Punch, kick and scream. “Y/N IT’S ME AHHHH STOP HITTING ME, IT’S PETER” the boy? Screamed. your fists slowly stopped and you tilted your head in confusion “Peter?”

What had happened was Peter had forgotten his pass and had decided that instead of waiting for Tony to come down and let him in, he’d get Karen to break-in

Which had turned on lockdown mode in the tower

Which had left you all alone

And when I said you ran through the lab I meant you literally smashed your way through the door

But you tripping up and toppling onto him had meat that he didn’t get his ass kicked by the avengers

Tony still wouldn’t show the video though

Maybe being clumsy would come in handy again

Probably not

#the avengers #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #tony x teen!reader #tony x platonic!reader #tony stark imagine #steve x teen!reader #steve rodgers imagine #sam wilson x teen!reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #bucky x teen!reader #nat x teen!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter x teen!reader

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americasmarauders · 3 years

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in your eyes - Bucky Barnes

author’s note: so remember when I said I wouldn’t write Bucky anymore, only that one time? yeah, so I said, you know, like a liar. I saw the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier and that was all it took for me to fall into the ‘bucky barnes simp’ hole all over again. I made an entire one shot based on a single piece of a dialogue from the first episode. the story starts right before the first episode and ends right after the last. I spend an entire month and a half working on this please give it some love.(pls reblog i beg of you) Huge thanks to @batarella and @glorified-red for beta-ing this. ily <3 hwo knows, if people love it enough I might give a part 2.

summary: her quiet job in the library got louder when Bucky walked into her life. (Bucky Barnes x telepath!librarian!reader)

WARNINGS: i do write a bit about addiction in this, if it makes you uncomfortable, please do not interact. it’s not heavy, or graphic, but the reader does experience abstinence. be warned. no spoilers for tfatws, but i do reccomend you watching it.

words: 11,416

mastelist

It was all so loud usually. When she first discovered her ability, it was like there were suddenly a thousand voices yelling inside her head all at once. She remembered falling to her knees, clutching her ears and crying out as the voices shouted different things at her.

Then the Professor came, promised her to help control her own mind. She didn’t want to trust the guy, even if he said he had the same power as her--even if he said everything would be alright. But the headaches were getting worse, the voices were getting louder and louder. She took him up on it and left her home to live in his boarding school.

She met interesting people and--at the end of her stay--she achieved what she was there for. It took 4 years of her life, constant nightmares from reading too much of her colleagues' minds, and several isolated afternoons - more than she wanted to admit. Nevertheless, she could finally go to a concert or have a normal college class without crying from pain.

She lived a normal life after her time at the Institute. She mostly ignored how her teenage years were far from the ordinary, or how sometimes she could hear a random thought from the person sitting next to her if the thought was loud enough. There were days when everything got too much, days where she lost control. She would stay in her house with noise cancelling headphones on (even if it didn’t work like that, it somehow helped) just going on throughout her day as quietly as possible. Tom knew she would get sick, even if working at the library rarely made her go into her lockdown modes.

The library calmed her in a way. The thoughts were rarely disordered and loud, more focused and quiet. It fascinated her that even in their thoughts, people respected the quiet environment the library required. But sometimes, someone would appear with a troubled mind, something books couldn’t even soothe.

There was a regular now, he was one of those people whose thoughts were always all over the place; she couldn’t pick them apart, words would fly through her head - words she often associated with the book he was reading. She wouldn’t know, it was Nancy that talked to him most times.

He always sat at the same old, worn out armchair, talking with the older people in the library as if they were the only people he was comfortable with. Sometimes, she would be restocking the books and see him looking at old newspapers. She never got the courage to talk to him. She figured her curiosity wasn’t enough to muster up the bravery needed to utter a word to him.

Tom was on leave that day. He was stalling his doctor’s appointment, telling her his back pain wasn’t that serious, but she knew better. Every so often she would hear a whisper of pain in her head and she knew her boss wasn’t alright. It had taken her months, but she finally convinced Tom to go and get his back looked at.

So she was working the counter that day: checking books off, admitting them, and then separating them so she could reshelve the books the next day. It was pretty boring work, repetitive, and she wondered how Tom kept busy all day when she finished all of her chores in a couple of hours.

“Excuse me,” she heard, standing up as a reflex. Her eyes trailed up to the person standing in front of the main desk. It was the Loud Man (that was what she had taken to calling him). “I want to check this off.”

“Yeah,” she said, breathless. She was hearing too much from him, too many random words. It made her feel dizzy. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

She took the book from his hands, her fingers brushing slightly at his leather gloves, her thoughts suddenly got even more flooded at the slight touch. She could feel a rising nervousness in him, so much it blended with her own nerves. She quickly retrieved her hand, hoping she hadn’t seemed impolite.

She sat back at her chair, looking at the book. “The Hobbit, huh?”

“I’m re-reading it,” he said, his eyes sincere, “I read it when it first came out.”

She looked at him funnily. “You read it in 1937?”

His expression froze, the slight smile morphing into a frown, his loud thoughts got louder with a single word: ‘lie’. “That’s a funny joke.”

She smiled at him, not taking his comment too seriously. “I’m a funny gal.”

He laughed, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was like he was only checking off a box of social convention. It quickly faded to an impatient expression, and she could tell he wanted to get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he mentioned.

“Oh,” she muttered, “I’m usually reshelving things, Tom operates the front desk but he went to the doctor. I’m the only other person who works here, so,” she trailed off, “I’m Y/N.”

“Bucky,” he responded, his face slightly tensed. His eyes hovered over everything in the library, as if he was trying to find something wrong in it.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky," she handed the book back to him. "It's due next week. Don't be late with it.”

“I'll return it tomorrow,” the words slipped from his mouth.

“Fast reader?” she asked.

“Got nothing else to do,” he shrugged, the word ‘lie’ once again swimming in her head in the mess of thoughts she received from him.

He gave her one last smile and disappeared into the library. His thoughts got distant, but they lingered in her head. Flashes of pain, bright white lights, and screams littered her mind. She shook her head trying to get rid of them. It rarely worked, not with thoughts so persistent.

Her head started to pound as the thoughts got more intense somehow. That never happened before, usually she could only hear people that stood near her and she was sure Bucky walked all the way to the back - he wasn’t close to her in any way.

Her hand shook as she fished out her headphones. She put them on and connected them with her phone. Playing her music was a hopeful distraction, detering her brain enough to quiet down everything. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, just like the Professor had taught her. He used to say a quiet and strong mind was the key to ward off stray thoughts.

It helped clear the thoughts, the mess of words only leaving whispers of broken thoughts in the way. She grabbed those and put them away, shoving them inside a mental box of lost thoughts. She did that with all the others, it helped keep her mind organized.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she opened her eyes. She always took too much time clearing her mind, she would forget the outside world. Peter used to poke fun at her for that, drawing penises on her face. When she came to her senses she would always run after him, ready to tackle him to the ground. It was always useless: you can't outrun Peter.

She noticed Bucky leaning on the frame of the front door. It was getting darker outside, an orange hue illuminating his eyes perfectly. Her breath hitched for a second before recomposing herself.

“Good nap?” he asked, the smallest smirk on his lips.

“I wasn’t napping,” she smiled, shaking her head. She checked the clock and saw it was way past closing time. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he had gone out of his way to stay with her when he should have gone home. “Why’d you stay?”

“Everyone left,” he said, “and I thought it wasn’t safe to leave you in a trance alone in an empty library.”

“I wasn’t in a trance,” she took her headphones off, resting them around her neck, “I was… clearing my head.”

He looked at her funnily, “Busy day?”

“It’s been weirder than usual,” she responded, smiling. She sat back down and logged off the system.

“How weird is working in a library?”

She scoffed, lighty. “You have no idea,” she smiled mischievously.

She picked up her things, keys in her hand. She left the front desk, going to Bucky’s side. “Thanks for staying,” she said, “You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem,” his hand brushed the back of his neck with a timid smile, very unlike his general physique and stance, “I had nowhere else to go.”

She could feel his thoughts bubbling underneath her skin, wanting to come out and flood her brain with confusing images and words. Whispers of faint words echoed through her mind, soft enough that she couldn’t distinguish what they were.

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, words slipping out of her mouth faster than she could stop it. Old habits she supposed. She could always keep thoughts of other people to herself, it didn’t seem fair to them she could hear their thoughts, the least she could do was keep them to herself. But when it came to her own, they just came out of her mouth before her conscience could stop her. “I mean,” she started, “a guy like yourself - good looking and all - must get a lot of people just, um, throwing themselves at you.”

He breathed out, an awkward expression on his face. She could hear one word clearly: ‘lie’. “I don’t date a lot,” he stated, “Not really my thing.”

She changed her approach to the conversation, sensing the uncomfortable energy he oozed. “Oh,” she muttered, “It’s okay, I mean, I don’t date a lot either. I barely leave my flat actually,” she brushed a single piece of hair out of her face, “I hate crowded spaces, and I have just the weirdest habits. You know, not a lot of people are into women who work at a library and barely make minimum wage,” she mumbled, her hands in her pockets restraining her hands for gesturing too much just like she always did, “I have a lot of issues too, at least that’s what the Professor used to say to my therapist before each session, which is fair and--oh God, I’m sorry, I just rambled.”

He chuckled (an actual chuckle), a full light-hearted laugh, one that rumbled throughout his chest. “It’s fine,” he said, “I like listening to you talk.”

She heard the words ‘like’ and ‘quiet’ shoot through her mind. She smiled at him shyly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” she laughed awkwardly, “Thank you again, for waiting and being, I don’t know, just nice, I guess.”

He smiled, a slightly bigger smile then he had given her the entire time they’d interacted. “Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head, “No problem.”

Both of them walked out the door. She turned and locked it, then pushed a button that activated the security systems of the building. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said whilst shrugging.

“Yeah, yeah,” he went down a few steps of the main staircase. “I’ll see, uh, see you tomorrow.”

She saw him go down the steps, listening to the faint echoes of his thoughts in her head. She felt the tips of her mouth curl up, watching him go as the sun set on the horizon. She hadn’t felt that before, that sense of mystery, of wonder and curiosity. His mind was in shambles, broken pieces of it laying in every corner of his brain, and she heard all of it. It compelled her, even if it felt completely wrong to be so enthralled by someone’s mind.

She felt inadequate for liking his mind when he didn’t even know she could listen to it. It wasn’t the first time she felt that way. She remembered a boy from the shop near the Institute, she loved hearing his thoughts. She rarely left the Institute, but when she did she would always sneak to the store to buy a popsicle as an excuse to admire him. Sometimes he would smile at her and her brain would malfunction for just a second, his thoughts flooding her and overwhelming her every time that happened.

She anticipated it was only a matter of time before that happened with Bucky again. She didn’t exactly know if that was a good thing, if she should indulge in the latent curiosity and table herself further with his mind - with him.

The sun set in the horizon, the orange glow fading to the blue of the night sky. Walking down the streets, she could still hear remnants of his thoughts inside her head, his imprint already set on her. She wondered how long it would take for it to fade, if it would fade and if she wanted it to. #

He gave her one last look before walking away from her. She could feel him uncomfortable, it lingered in her head longer than it should. He lingered in her more than he should. Her eyes followed him on his way out of the library. His mind was confused and tired, it left a trail of breadcrumbs calling for her to solve the mystery that was.

Tom’s doctor ordered maximum rest. Apparently, the problem in his back was more serious than both of them anticipated. The doctor ordered as much rest as Tom could have, meaning more breaks and leaving early. That also meant she had to do double the work - she wouldn’t mind at all had she not left a pile of returned books to shelve.

She put her headphones and drove the cart full of books through the library all afternoon. Usually not a lot of people came in on a Monday afternoon to check out books, most were local teens that were there to study or make out. She always pretended not to know which ones were there to actually study or not; the thoughts always flew out to her when they were there to snog, most times it was hard to contain the shit-eating grin that would want to rise.

She felt someone touching her shoulder. She jumped slightly, startled at the touch. Turning around, she saw Bucky, his thoughts overwhelming her. She rested the headphones around her neck, pulling out her phone to pause the music. “Hey, Bucky,” she breathed out, trying to contain the images and words in her head, “What are you, um, how you doing?”

“I’m good,” he smiled at her, looking down at the ground, “Um, Tom’s not at the front desk and I gotta return the book.”

“Oh yeah,” she took the book from his hand. It was still warm from his touch, “I thought you wouldn’t come today, to be honest.”

“I said I was,” he looked at her intensely, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Well,” she smiled awkwardly and averted her eyes to the ground, “People sometimes say things they don’t mean.”

She didn’t realise what she said until it was out of her mouth. She remembered how he was uncomfortable around her, and how he would think about lies just as he told her something. Embarrassment flooded her senses, she felt heat rising to her cheeks.

He looked at her weirdly, as if he was analyzing her. The more he looked, the more she listened to his mind. Words of suspicion floated around, she swallowed dryly and nervously at the thoughts. Echoes of screams and a crushing sense of guilt came through, she wondered what had happened for him to think of that. She wondered if she was the one person that caused him to think like that.

“I’ll return it for you,” she said, motioning for the book, trying to get the attention off of her.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, “D’you mind if I get another?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said, “I’ll wait for you - at the front desk, I mean,” backing away from him, she accidentally bumped into a bookshelf, “Not, um, not any other way.”

He stared at her and nodded slightly. She turned around and walked to the front desk, cringing at her inability to mutter coherent words to him without stumbling in the middle of a phrase. Something about him made her lose all of her composure, she didn’t know if it was the constant flood of thoughts and memories she listened to from his mind or just him making her nervous.

She sat down at the chair behind the front desk, and rubbed her face, as if it would rub the embarrassment out of her. Sighing, she returned the book for Bucky. Just as the day before, his thoughts lingered in her head, images that meant very little to her were calling out.

“Why’s Tom not here?” he asked. She looked up at him, his blue eyes piercing through her. It was the first time she noticed his eyes, and somehow, it made everything worse. Instead of whispers, she heard everything clearly. Fools said the eyes were the windows to the soul. She knew better: someone’s eyes told her what they were thinking, what they were feeling. And she could tell Bucky felt a lot.

“Um,” she looked back down to the book she just admitted back, moving it to the pile of books to reshelve. “He’s on leave, doctor’s orders.”

“Back pain was somethin’ serious then?” he responded, handing the new book to her.

“Yeah, I told him to get that checked out, turns out I was right,” she shrugged, getting the book, her eyes still fixated on the computer. She felt the leather of his gloves graze the tips of her fingers, and a searing pain shot through her head. She brought the book down to the table, closing her eyes hoping the pain would stop. “Brave New World? Revisiting the classics, huh?” she struggled to keep a whimper from emerging from her mouth.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She heard a whisper of concern run though his head, “Um, are you alright? You don’t look very well.”

She shook her head, faking a smile, pretending she wasn’t getting a thousand thoughts from everyone in the library- especially Bucky’s thoughts - blasted at maximum volume on the speakers of her mind. “Just a bit of a headache.”

“It looks serious,” she could hear the leather from his gloves squeaking as he rested his hands on top of the counter.

“I’ll be fine,” she gritted through her teeth. It had been years since she was last in a position like that, her head throbbing with thoughts that weren’t hers. “I have these all the time.”

She heard his thoughts of concern louder than the others. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She dismissed his question, not wanting to dwell on his concern longer. “Here,” she handed the book back to him, her other hand closed in a fist, “it’s due next week. Don’t be late with it.”

“I won’t,” he said, his tone slightly strained. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she shook her head, her eyes closed and teeth gritted, choosing not to question how he would return that book tomorrow. She fisted both of her hands, her fingernails sinking in the skin of her hands. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she whispered to herself.

She heard his footsteps moving away from her, she sighed in relief, hoping it would mean her mind was going to calm itself and the headache would fade. Instead, the footsteps grew closer to her once again and then the leather of his gloves was grazing the skin of her arm, helping her stand up and guiding her somewhere.

“Imma take you to the hospital, doll” Bucky stated, not leaving room for discussion.

“No,” she tried to shake off his hold, “My shift’s not over, I can’t leave.”

“You look terrible, and you’re clearly in a lot of pain,” he grabbed her arm again, “You need to go to a doctor.”

“Doctors won’t solve this,” she once again freed herself of his hold taking a step back from him. More of his thoughts flooded her mind, a mess of memories and guilt overwhelming her. “They never solve anything,” she breathed out, her voice breaking, “I just need to rest.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his tone temptive and careful.

“No doctors,” it was the first time she had looked in his eyes willingly. There was a sort of weird determination in her eyes, one that came with years of terrible experiences with doctors. Hundreds of appointments that left her more desperate than before, endless tests and thoughts heard that she didn’t have any fix, as if she was broken in the first place.

His jaw tightened and his intense eyes fell upon hers. Her throat dried up under his gaze, her head unbearably heavy with his thoughts and hers. “Fine,” he growled, his hands moving to the pockets of his jacket, “Fine.”

“I need to go back to work,” she backed away from him, slowly. “I--I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure why she was apologizing to him.

“It’s okay,” his jaw was still tight, his eyes were still intense lingering at her. She couldn’t even appreciate his gaze at her, and how if she was a normal person,--if she didn’t have that goddamn gene--she would have let her heart skip a beat and feel coy under his gaze. “It’s your choice.”

There was a stubbornness to his stance, something that told her he wouldn’t be backing down so easily. She couldn’t go to any doctor, she couldn’t risk anyone finding out. She didn’t want to go through the tests and the never-ending questions, whether it was out loud or not. There was only one person who could possibly help her, and she refused to go to him.

She backed away from him quickly, turning around and heading to the front desk once again. Her headphones found their way to her ears, and she started to blast her music at full volume, hoping, or rather praying, it would help ease her headache. She put her phone in her back pocket, grabbed the book she had just returned.

The cart wove between the shelves with ease under her direction. She could still feel Bucky’s presence within the library, it was like carrying an iron ball tied to her feet at all times. Unlike the day before, he was more troubled, he felt more things and more intensely. It was too much. She wondered what happened for him to be so restless.

The music hardly helped, it somehow made it worse. She couldn’t shake the tangled thoughts and think for herself, and the music disturbed even more. She dropped her headphones, frustrated. Her head pounded, desperation rose in her. She refused to call Professor, he would not help, he would only rub in her face that she shouldn’t have left. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed at the Institute, Y/N,’ she could imagine him saying if she closed her eyes.

“Are you better?” turning around, she saw Bucky, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. His eyes were focused down, his shoulder slightly hunched. It looked like he was ashamed of asking her if she was alright, almost as if it was his fault that she was in pain. It was, but she didn’t hold it against him. She was certain it wasn’t his fault.

“Not really,” looking at him, she analyzed his expression. His jaw was tense, she could see his hands were fisted inside his pockets, “I just need to sleep.”

He nodded slightly. “You sure you don’t want anythin’?”

Her head tilted slightly and her mouth quirked up a little. She could tell he wanted to charm her, she heard the word bounce around her head faintly--the guilt was louder, though she could barely hear anything else--and she would lie if she said she didn’t like his attention. “I am” her hands entangled together, her knuckles tight, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Yeah, yeah” he breathed out, his hand brushing the side of his leg in a nervous habit. “I need to go,” he pointed back at the door, his face stony.

She sat cross legged on her bed, her eyes closed. There were candles around the room, the lighting dim and warm. The smell of incense was strong, it swallowed the entire room. It was necessary, she needed that to ground herself to the real world, and not lose herself in her mind.

Since calling Professor was not an option, she tried to take matters into her own hands. She was going to untangle the knot of thoughts Bucky had left in her head by herself. It could potentially be dangerous, if she wandered too far who knows what could happen. She had taken the necessary precautions, but she had only done that before under the careful and judgemental eye of the Professor. It was the first time she was doing it alone, it scared her to think what could go wrong.

She breathed in calmly and concentrated on the knot in front of her. Her head was a whole other world, it could be molded to her will, she felt safe in it. Now, it was a black empty space, the only thing filling it was herself and the pulsating mess of thoughts Bucky had gifted her.

Kneeling in front of it, she carefully picked apart superficial thoughts, setting them aside. They didn’t matter to what she was there to do, they were only random words and snippets of his day-to-day life that she was sure were not the ones causing him so much pain.

It didn’t take long for her to reach what pained him. It was surprising to see the amount of thoughts in front of her, usually it was much less. People tended to blow things out of proportion often, little things could cause a world of hurt to themselves. Bucky seemed to take a lot of pain, underestimating his grief. A typical mentality of someone who lacked the confidence, who didn’t trust themselves enough.

She picked a single memory and entered it.

The lighting was dim, a yellow glow swallowed her. The room was dirty and disgusting, the tiles that were once white tinted an yellowish gray. It looked like a room used for medical procedures, judging by the sheer amount of medical-like instruments littered around the desks. There were no calendars in sight, she had no way of knowing when the memory had happened.

There were at least 5 or 6 people in the room, all surrounding a metallic chair. She approached the scene, carefully. Standing beside the chair, she saw Bucky.

He couldn’t be much older than he was when she met him. His hair was slightly longer than it was currently, just brushing his forehead. He was shirtless, his skin glistening in the faint lighting of the room. His hand was tied to the chair. His temples bruised from something she hadn’t figured out yet. His chest moved violently, struggling to breathe properly. And his left shoulder? There was a red swollen scar there. She doubted the wound was fresh, more like reopened. Maybe they tried putting a prosthetic there and it failed. It was likely they hadn’t administered any painkillers in the procedure, and she felt anger boiling inside her at the thought.

“James Barnes, 3255...” he trailed off, muttering under his breath. His eyes were halfway closed, it looked like he barely could keep them opened.

“Попробуй снова,” try again, one of the doctors said.

Her eyes lingered on the doctor that had just spoken. He looked evil, and she felt in her bones he was. His smile was wicked as his eyes lingered on Bucky struggling to catch his breath tied to that chair. All of the doctors looked sadistic and malefic. She felt goosebumps flood her skin, disgusted by the situation.

The machine started whirling. An appendix lowered into Bucky’s left eye, another lowering to his right temple. Someone put a protection on his mouth, and she could see Bucky trying to free himself from his ties. Something told her, even in an altered state of mind he was already conditioned to know that noise and that feeling were bad news. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to hers just before everything started.

The screams - his screams - bounced on the walls and filled her soul in a terrifying way. Tears came to her eyes as she carefully studied what was happening to him. His hands formed fists, his knuckles totally pale on his flesh hand. His eyes were shut violently, his mouth open in a painful way. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to hug him and take him out of that awful place, but she couldn't. It was all a memory, it already had happened and she couldn’t do anything about it.

The doctors recited words in russian repetitively. Her eyes traveled to the doctor holding a red notebook. The wicked smile never faltered, completely ignoring the man in pain in front of him. She felt a urge she had fought so hard to suppress: she wanted to invade their brains, pick them apart and tear them down from the inside. She wanted to scream and shout at them and destroy everything in the room with a single thought. The fact that she was inside a memory and couldn’t physically change anything bothered her little. The anger and sadness she felt were real.

The machine stopped humming and Bucky stopped screaming. When he opened his eyes, she saw something that utterly terrified her. His eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, very much unlike mere seconds before. They were wide open, focused forward, looking beyond the doctor that was hovering over him.

“Soldat?” one of the doctors asked, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

“Готовы соответствовать,” ready to comply.

The room became blurry and she was sucked out of the memory. She stood there in front of the knot of thoughts. A feeling of inadequacy overwhelmed her, and she willed herself out of her own mind. She shouldn’t have done that, not without his permission. He didn’t even know she could hear his thoughts, much less explore the memories he had left with her.

She gasped for air as she came back to her senses. Bucky was much more complicated than she had anticipated, and the guilt he carried around with him wasn’t blown out of proportion and unwarranted. He felt as if things he had done, whatever those things were, had been his responsibility. But she knew more about the mind than him, she knew that that person she had watched be tortured was not him. Those eyes told her nothing, and his eyes told her everything and more. Those eyes were from someone who was a puppet, stripped of free will and agency. So maybe his guilt was warranted, but it didn’t mean it was his fault.

She rubbed her face and laid in her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her heart raced inside her chest, the adrenaline of doing something so wrong settling on her. She would have to be honest with him. She let a shuddery breath, as she realized she was at the point she avoided when meeting people. The fear of rejection was crushing and familiar and with time she realized it was easier to push people away, not forming connections deeper than trivial than to explain what she was. But Bucky was different, she felt it in her bones. And she wasn’t willing to let him go. #

Tuesdays were fuller than Mondays, but only slightly. Maybe one or two more students came in, trying to get ahead of the curve and not procrastinate their studies more than necessary. The amount of work she had was enough to keep her busy throughout the day, even without Tom’s help.

She hummed the song in her headphones, weaving her way through the shelves, puting the few books that were returned that day back where they belonged. It was the part of her job that gave her the most pleasure. It gave her a sense of control and order, something that had lacked almost her entire life, especially while she was at the Institute. Professor had controlled everything back then. He controlled her and Peter and all the others to be something that most would not have chosen to be if given the choice. It made her feel helpless and tiny. But she had freed herself from that reality, much to Professor’s dislike. And now she could happily find her control in tiny things, like putting books back on their shelves.

“How come I always come when no one’s at the front desk?”, her headphones fell to her neck as she turned around to look at Bucky. He wore a shy smile on his face, clutching two books tightly in his gloved hands. His thoughts were quieter that day, but still present and loud. She doubted it was enough to give her a headache, but it was enough to leave a mark on her mind.

“Well, I’d say it’s just your luck,” the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Wanna check those out?” she pointed at the books in his hands.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She started walking towards the front desk, Bucky at her tail. “So, are you better?”

“Yep,” she nodded, getting behind the desk and taking the books out of his hands, “Told you I just needed to rest.”

“Doll,” his head tilted, his eyes carefully analyzing her. She heard worry bounce around his head, “you looked like you were about to drop dead.”

She shook her head, a smile creeping its way to her face. “It’s more common than you think, it’s fine, Bucky, really,” dismissing his worry, like it was the best way to earn his trust. “For whom the Bells tolls? Really diving into the classics, huh?”

“Need some comfort,” he shrugged. “It’s been 80 years since I read these, it felt like the time to re-read.”

“80 years,” she dragged, “You look a lot younger.”

His face became briefly stony, his brain going haywire for a second before he relaxed and gave her an awkward laugh. “You’re a lot funnier when you’re not in pain.”

“Aren’t we all?” she slid the book over to him. “It’s due next week, don’t b--”

“Be late with it, I know,” he completed, “I’ll return it tomorrow. Like always”

She heard words of charm and flattery from his mind. It was a timid voice saying it, if she had been distracted she wouldn’t have heard it. Her eyes trailed downwards, her smile tiny and shy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re lying.”

“How’d you know better?” his eyes narrowed at her and his head tilted to the side. She found it absolutely charming that he did that when he was confused.

“I read minds,” she said, seriously, her face impartial, very much unlike mere seconds before.

“That’s funny,” he laughed, pointing at her.

She opened an awkward smile at him, looking carefully at his expression. His mind told her he thought she was pranking him, being funny to charm him. She wasn’t. “I know you think I’m trying to charm you,” her eyes looking at her feet, her fingers entwined in a nervous habit, “but I’m not,” she finished, whispering.

She could hear confusion clearly in his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly at how she could read his mind, more to why she was telling him the fact. “I can hear your thoughts very clearly, they’re very loud,” she whispered. After all these years of experience with this power, it never got easier telling people about it. “And I didn’t think it was fair to listen to your thoughts - you think a lot you know? - all so loudly and clearly,” She couldn’t look at him, her eyes were still cast downwards in shame, “If you want to, I can explain how it is, we can go for a walk or whatever.”

She could feel his intense gaze on her skin, she didn’t dare to look up. Disappointment was one of the things she hated the most, one she had dealt with a lot. Seeing it in his face would surely break her heart, even if only a little bit. “Fine,” she heard him say it, airly, “But you’re paying.”

She looked up and his expression was impassive. But his eyes were twinkling with a sort of curiosity and wonder that could only mean good things. A weird sort of relief washed over her. She let out a sigh, her features relaxing. “Great,” she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “great,” she breathed out, “I just need to close this place.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Tell me what that boy’s thinking,” he said, pointing to a little boy by the pond feeding the ducks happily.

Her eyes trailed to the kid, trying to focus on him. It was an exercise she hadn’t done in a while, since she had left the Institute really. “He’s happy he’s with his dad,” she reported, “he doesn’t see his dad often and he misses him.”

“What about the dad?” his hands were in his pockets, his gaze locked on the dad sat on the bench just behind the kid.

“He’s guilty he doesn’t spend enough time with his son,” she added, her eyes following the posture of the man. His eyes were fixed on his son, watching his every move. It was clear he felt some sort of guilt towards his son, and it was easy to assume that by his stance alone--if you were observant enough. Bucky was, “He works two jobs to pay the child support. He can’t find time between them often.”

“How do I know that you didn’t just meet those people and they told you their life story?” Bucky questioned, his gaze intense and locked on her. They stopped beneath a tree, orange sun rays peeking from between the leaves.

“It’s the first time I've ever seen them,” she plopped down beneath the tree, crossing her legs childishly, “I barely leave my apartment.”

He stared at her, his gaze strong and judgmental. Huffing, he calmly got down and sat beside her, his legs spread out in front of him. He crossed his hands on his lap, and her gaze locked at his left hand. She wondered if the arm was still the same as the one she had seen in his memory. That arm sent chills down her spine, it was intimidating and terrifying, the red star staring at her menacingly. “Why, though?”

“I can’t, really,” she shrugged. She looked up, her head tilting to the side, considering her words. “I have these lockdowns when I’m surrounded by too many people. It hasn’t happened in years but,” her eyes closed, the memories of the last lockdown she had flooding back at her. She saw her younger self falling to her knees in the middle of the Institute’s lobby, screaming and clutching her ears, “but it happens, and I’d rather not go through that. I’m not in speaking terms with the person that can help me and I’ll do anything to not talk to him again.”

His lips formed a thin line. A hum trembled his chest, his head resting on the tree behind them. “How much have you seen from…” his jaw clenched, his voice quiet and hesitant.

“Not much,” she dragged. “I stopped after I realized that I, um, that I was…”she found she couldn’t complete the sentence under his strong gaze. “It wasn’t fair to you for me to see anything, not without you knowing.”

“What did you see?” he gritted through his teeth, his eyes watery and sad.

“I saw,” she gulped, her voice straining with emotion as she looked deep into his eyes, “I saw you, um, tied to a chair. You were so out of it,” she shook her head, tears flooding her eyes, “you were mumbling your name and some numbers. And then,” she sighed, picking up strength to continue, “and then they - they broke you.”

“What else?” he growled, his hands in fists. His eyes were no longer sad, there was a latent anger in them. It made her sad that she was the cause of his anger, or rather the target.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “nothing else. Nothing other than random words from your day to day.”

He considered her for a moment, his eyes hovering her face frantically. She tried her best not to listen to his mind, trying to focus on elsewhere, on someone else. But he was like a magnet, and she could help but to be attracted to him and his thoughts. Words of confusion, anger and infatuation floated in his brain and echoed in hers. “Can you turn it off? Your...thing?” he pointed to her head almost in disdain. She knew better than to believe his gestures.

“Not exactly,” she hugged her legs, her chin resting on her knees. “If I could, I would have, a long time ago.”

They remained in silence after that. He looked at the clouds, considering everything she had just told him. She looked everywhere but at him, trying to stray her mind from him. It felt impossible, he became her gravity center, and she couldn’t really escape it. She found that she didn’t want to.

“How did you get the…” he tried to find the right words, “the mind reading thing?”

She laughed at his silly phrasing. “I was born with it,” she looked down at her hands, her cheeks feeling hot. “Professor picked me up and took me to the Institute after I turned 13 because of it.”

“That sounds like a cute way of saying you were kidnapped by the guy,” he commented, his tone serious and his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t,” she tilted her head towards him, as if she was telling him a secret. “I went willingly, actually. The nightmares were getting worse and the headaches,” her eyes locked with his for a brief second as she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “well, headaches like yesterday’s are light ones compared to those. And the Professor, he promised to help me control it.”

“That doesn't sound suspicious at all,” she could hear him roll his eyes in disdain.

“He did help me,” she assured him, “but at the time, I didn't realize that it would come with a cost.”

“I’m guessing he wanted something out of you,” he inferred, “that you weren’t willing to give.”

“Something like that,” she responded, her voice vague and distant. Remembering the things Professor had planned for her made her scared and, most of all, angry. Angry he dared to think she would be so desperate to abide by his wishes. She had learned that following his plans brought her nothing more than frustration and loneliness, he robbed her and her friends of a stable childhood so they could become his pawns. “He wasn’t a good person.”

“I get that,” he whispered, his head down, looking at his hands. He opened and closed his left hand repetitively. The anger he had felt once she had told him what she had done came back, but directed towards someone else.

“Listen, Bucky,” she turned her whole body towards him. Her hands itched to grab his, but she knew neither of them were prepared to cross that line, “I’m truly sorry that I… couldn’t control myself. I figured that if I could decipher your thoughts the headaches would stop, but I didn’t realize how much you kept hidden,” she confessed, her fingers fiddling with themselves in a nervous habit. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, I want to give you a chance to tell me these things yourself, that’s why I told you.”

He looked at her for a moment before responding. “You told someone who you’d only known for a couple of days your biggest secret,” he recited, almost as if he had been rehearsing the line in his mind over and over, “because you felt bad.”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds foolish,” she grumbled. “I know what’s like not to be given a choice, and I wanted you to have the choice to, you know, walk away from me,” she finished, her voice just above a whisper. She struggled to keep her tears at bay, a couple of them spilling and running down her cheeks.

“Why would I walk away from you?” he asked her, sincerity in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t be the first person,” her eyes were cast forward, looking way beyond the park. She didn’t bother cleaning the tears that were rolling down her face. “And you wouldn’t be the last, certainly.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his voice low and beautiful, “I wouldn’t.”

She could barely hear his thoughts over her own. She couldn’t think straight anymore, too many emotions flooded her own senses, it was all too much. Her hands rubbed her eyes, trying to rid them of the tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head. “But, seriously, don’t tell your biggest secret to someone you barely know.”

She laughed at his suggestion, her smile watery. “I won’t, don’t worry,” her head tilted to the side, her eyes carefully studying his face. It was the first time she truly took him in. His face was so wonderfully beautiful. His nose and his lips were perfect. But it was his eyes that would always fascinate her. So wonderfully blue and so beautifully deep. It was impossible to not fall in love with him with those eyes.

He got up and brushed his gloves on the sides of his pants. He offered her his right hand, “How’d you say we get that coffee now and you tell me the craziest things you’ve ever seen people think?”

She smiled sincerely at him, her eyes looking up at him in admiration. She took his hand and she let him guide her.

“Doll, you need to start staying at the front desk,” he leaned casually on the side of the bookcase, looking calmly at her as she turned around to face him. “What if someone important comes in and there’s no one there?

She felt amused at Bucky’s teasing and smiled. “Tom’s supposed to be there, he must have just left to do something,” she stated, smugly. “Besides, you’re the only important person that comes here. At least, to me you are,” she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

He bit his lip and looked at her in a way that made her melt. “Aren’t you a charmer.”

She could hear clearly in his thoughts he was amused by her behavior, the word ‘charm’ levitating around her brain. “I learned from the best,” she shrugged brushing past him and walking towards the front desk.

She heard his heavy footsteps behind her. “Are we still up for tonight?” his voice had an edge that wasn’t there before. She sat down on her chair behind the counter as her eyes carefully analyzed his face. His jaw was tense, his eyebrows were furrowed and his fingers were tight around the book he meant to return.

“I’ve been up for it every day for the past month, Bucky,” she narrowed her eyes at him. His jaw clenched even more in a way she didn’t know possible. She tried to ignore his thoughts and the words that bounced around her brain. “What are you trying to say?” she asked softly, taking the book from him gently.

He sighed, resting his elbows on the counter he leaned in. “Sam needs my help,” he said, his voice low and tired. She could tell he wasn’t telling her the full truth, but she didn’t push it.

“Oh,” she muttered, typing away to return the book he brought. “So you’re cancelling?”

“Doll, I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important,” he stated. She could tell he was sad, his eyes told her so, and so did the words in his head. It pained her to see him give up their time together. It was cherished by both, and she suspected it was maybe one of the only moments of the day Bucky didn’t have to hold everything in. Mostly because she could see everything he was hiding.

“Don’t,” she stopped him before he could further apologize. “I understand, an Avenger’s calling you,” she whispered, a devilish smile on her lips, “how could you not answer it?”

“I can think of a lot of ways,” he gritted. He had told her his qualms with Sam Wilson, but it only seemed like friendly teasing and nothing else. Nothing too serious, that's what she judged it to be.

“Bucky,” she warned him, “there are more important people than me, and Sam is definitely one of those. Don’t feel guilty, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Y/N,” he never used her first name. He would call her ‘doll’, or ‘love’ or even sometimes ‘sweetheart’, but never by her first name. Hearing it leave his lips sobered her up quickly, “there’s no one more important to me than you.”

Her mouth hung open in complete shock at his declaration. Her brain short-circuited for a moment, before recomposing herself. She opened her mouth to respond him but he quickly beat her to it.

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he shook his head, his eyes cast downwards.

Her eyes hovered him quietly for a second before slipping the book to him. “I extended the due date. Two weeks and nothing more,” she said, sternly. “You know the drill, Bucky.”

“Don’t be late with it, I know,” he recited. His eyes lingered on hers for longer than it normally would. It felt as if he was memorizing her, studying the little details of her face, the little quirks of her personality. She felt heat rising to her cheeks, like every time she was under his intense gaze. He looked downwards for a moment, his mouth slightly opened. “I won’t be gone too long, just a couple of days.”

She got up from her chair and walked to his side. She bit her lip as he watched her go around the front desk. He leaned on his arm, casually standing there as she looked down at her feet in front of him. “You have my number, I’m just a phone call away,” she muttered shyly. She couldn’t handle this flirty interactions with Bucky. Mostly because she would have to juggle her own thoughts with his. But there was something about his demeanor at that moment that put her at ease, she didn’t feel the need to juggle both of their thoughts, only to embrace them. She let herself feel the butterflies and be fully flustered under his charm. It felt nice. “I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, me too,” he looked at her eyes, deeply and soulfully. She didn’t know how she hadn’t melted at the spot. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “I know,” her lips brushed his cheek. She quickly kissed it and looked back at him. “You should probably go. Don’t wanna keep Sam waitin’.”

He smiled at her one last time before leaving her. His smile, there was something different about that. It felt sincere and genuine, unlike all his other smiles that were usually caused by awkwardness and embarrassment. She had seen something completely different in that smile, something she couldn’t exactly place yet.

She arrived quietly at her apartment, carrying a bag full of groceries and flowers for her tiny garden out in the fire-escape. Her upstairs neighbor had complained about it for months, until he joined and now she shared it with him. She had plans to make the whole building to contribute to the little garden, she was almost convincing her downstairs neighbor and she was a pivotal person.

The apartment was too quiet, unlike normally. There were always whispers of her neighbor’s thoughts echoing through the walls, the busy sounds of the streets, the shouts outside from people going by their day.

“I know you’re here,” she shouted to her apartment, “you weren’t subtle about it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t talk to me, otherwise,” Professor rolled in. He hadn’t changed a single bit since the last time she had seen him. His clothes were the same, his bald head glistened the same way it did, and his chair was just as stoic as his face. She hated him and seeing him in her apartment only reminded her of that.

“That’s cause I don’t want to talk to you, Professor, I thought I had made myself clear,” she growled, resting the bag and the flowers on the kitchen counter. “Why are you here?”

“It has come to my knowledge you’ve been having your episodes,” he said, robotically.

“I’m not having any episodes, I'm fine” she muttered, her back turned to Professor. She cursed Peter mentally for being a fucking snitch. Next time she saw him she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

“You’re not,” he corrected her. As usual, she only heard him in a tone of superiority and condencense, he always knew best. “We know what happens when you let yourself go with other people’s thoughts, child.”

“Don’t call me that,” she gripped the counter, her teeth gritted and her eyes shut. Her hands felt clammy, almost slipping from the counter. She had escaped the Institute, she had sworn she would never go back, for fucking Peter to bring Professor to her again. She knew Peter did it because he was worried. It still didn’t make it sting less. “I said I’m fine, I have everything under control.”

“How long have you been taking the suppressing pills?” he asked her, his voice judgemental and cold.

She turned around to face him for the first time. He was impossible to read, he always made sure of that. As much as she begged him to teach her how to do it, to help her block out thoughts and stop people from getting into her head, he never really did it. She had to discover for herself, and, in that, she never was as effective as him. “It’s none of your business,” she scoffed. “It’s not like I’m of any use to you anymore, Professor. I’m sure you have a brand new shiny pawn you can play with that’s even better than I was. Besides,” she added, crossing her arms on her chest, “you gave me those pills.”

“They’re for emergencies only, Y/N, not continuous use,” he shook his head at her, his piercing through hers, She looked down avoiding his gaze, her jaw tight. Her head started to feel heavy, and she didn’t know if it was his prying or something worse. “Do you remember the last time you used those same pills continuously?”

Her teeth gritted and she closed her eyes to stop him from seeing the tears accumulating in them. She looked at him, her eyes completely angry and full of hurt, “I'm a lot stronger that I was back then,” she gritted.

“Bad things happen when you repress your power,” Professor warned, leaning on his knees. “You learned that the hard way.”

“I haven't taken them in days.” she stated, trying to keep her head focused and her voice free of emotion. Professor considered her for a moment. She could feel him prying in her head, searching for traces of a lie well told. She knew he wouldn’t find any, she told the truth, even if it was half of it.

“I know you’re not telling everything,” he told her, his hands fiddling with the orange vial temptevely. “What are you hiding?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. When she was younger, she wouldn’t even consider behaving badly around him. Now, she knew better. “I don’t owe you any explanations, Professor. I don’t even understand why are you here,” she pointed accusingly at him. “You've done a pretty good job showing you don’t care all my life, I find it hard to believe you care now.”

His eyes found hers, as always completely unreadable. But she saw the little details, the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his fingers opened and closed the cap of the bottle nervously. It was hard to tell if the tick was fabricated or not, she could never tell with him. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll be in touch,” he wheeled himself towards the door.

“Please don’t,” she said clearly as he exited her apartment.

As the door closed she let a shuddery breath, laying on her couch in exhaustion. She let a couple of tears fall from her eyes, quickly drying them after. She had cried because of Professor too many times in her life, she would not cry for him one more time.

Her phone vibrated on her back pocket. She sniffed and fished out, checking what was the cause of the notification. ‘Just arrived. Call me’ from Bucky. Her heart picked up, smiling at her phone happily.

It rang a couple of times before he picked up. “You’re late,” she said, before he had the chance to say anything to her, “you said a couple of days.”

“I’m sorry, doll,” he breathed out, “it took longer than anticipated.”

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, a smile on her face. “The book, though, you’re gonna have to pay a fee for being late.”

He laughed at the other end of the line. “First time I ever return it late, can’t you make an exception for me?”

“I didn’t do anything, it was Tom,” she stated quickly. Her lips adorned a permanent smile, so much it barely seemed Professor had just left her apartment. They stayed quiet before anyone said anything.

“I missed you,” he whispered, her heart racing in her chest as he recited the words.

“I missed you too,” she replied back, her voice soft and full of emotion. She tried to contain her tears, an accumulation of feelings from just before and that moment but she couldn’t. “I was so lonely, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too, love,” he sighed on the other end of the line. She could imagine him looking down at his feet, a silly smile on his lips. His eyes were twinkling in her mind the way that melted her, he looked absolutely beautiful as usual. “Do you want to go out? I owe you 2 weeks worth of coffee.”

She looked at the ceiling, trying to contain her heart and failing miserably. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that,” she breathed out.

“I’ll pick you up in 20.”

She hung up the phone and got up from her couch, a silly smile on her face. Her smile soon faded after she realised what she had done. She was only off the pills for 2 days, it wasn’t enough time for her powers to normalize. Without Bucky present, the abstinence wasn’t as noticeable. Sure, she could hear everything more clearly, the music her neighbor had stucky in his head, or the busy thoughts of a random person passing on the sidewalk. But Bucky always had a thousand things in his head, and that surely would be a problem.

She was telling the truth to the Professor. She wasn’t taking them continuously, only a couple of times a week, when Bucky’s thoughts were always the loudest. But she hadn’t told him that she had stopped so late, later than she should have. She was toeing the line again, just like she had done when she was a kid and the prospect of not listening to everyone all the time seemed too good to be true.

A sigh escaped her lips, her heart racing inside her chest, not for the right reasons. She hoped she could control it, keep her latent power at bay just like she did everyday. It was easy to fool herself like that. She forgot how addicting Bucky could be, how wrapped up in him she would get. It was almost an experiment: how would she deal with Bucky’s mind when her power was at the most raw. She wondered if she should be curious or scared.

Her hands sweated as she unpacked her groceries. A cold rush ran through her spine, and she remembered the symptoms she experienced the last time she was off the pills. Dread settled in her, anticipating what was about to come. She cursed Professor, her stupid mutated gene and those fucking pills. She often wondered what would have happened if she never manifested any powers, how her life would have played out.

Then, her senses were flooded by Bucky. She whipped around to the door, seeing the shadow of his feet lingering outside. Her head felt heavy and there was a pain blooming, something much worse than the ones she’d endured when she first met him. It was a side effect, she should have expected that. She leaned on her table for a moment, trying to get used to the pain. The knock echoed through her apartment. She barely registered it, his thoughts flooding her. It was all so incoherent, flashes of yellowed memories and newer ones ran through her head. She heard her name screamed in his head over and over again, his voice whispering pet names he had given her with images of their time together.

She opened the door and there he was, standing in front of her. He wasn’t wearing his traditional gloves, and he had dodged the leather jacket of a simple longed sleeved t-shirt pulled at his elbows. It was the first time she saw his arm being displayed so freely, so unashamedly. He wore a boyish smile on his face, holding a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers meant for her. “I brought you flowers,” he handed the bouquet to her, his eyes twinkling with a charm she hadn’t seen in him before. “You said you wanted to expand your garden,” he justified with a shrug, his eyes on the bouquet. The smile never left his lips.

She almost forgot about her symptoms, letting his charm encapsulate her and warm her heart. She accepted the flowers, their smell overwhelming her. She stepped aside for him to come in, he ducked his head and got in the apartment quietly. It wasn’t the first time he had been over, but it was still odd to see him in her place. It looked smaller with him in it, less lonely.

“Thank you,” she whispered, closing the door. Her hands glued to the plastic wrapping of the flowers. She wiped her other hand on her pants, gulping nervously. If before she thought his thoughts were loud, in that moment it seemed like they were being blasted in amplifiers at maximum volume. “How’ve you been?” she stuttered, her mouth dry.

“I’m good, good,” he laughed looking down, his hands on his pockets. She could tell he wasn’t lying, for the first time she asked him that question he actually answered it honestly. “How are you, doll?”

She grabbed a pot and some dirt to stick the bouquet in it from the cabinet under the kitchen island. “I’m okay,” she replied quietly. Resting the supplies next to the sunflower she had just bought, a wave of nausea washed over her. She felt the color drain out of her face, feeling lightheaded. Her hands gripped tightly around the backrest of a chair, trying to not collapse to the floor.

She heard him rush to her side, his hands supporting her. The cool touch of his metal arm was contrastant with how hot her skin felt at the moment. “You don’t look okay,” it was like he was yelling in her ear, but she knew his voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

“I’m off my pills,” she gripped his forearms, her eyes shut close. She tried organizing her head, separating her own thoughts with the thoughts of others.

“Let me get them for you,” he guided her to the couch, gently sitting her down.

“No,” she reached for him, her voice dying in her throat. Her hold on his wrist was weak, her eyes closed. The light only worsened her headache, she couldn’t bear to open her eyes. “There’s none left.”

“What d’you mean there’s nothing left?” he asked her, his voice strained. She knew he tried to contain his worry, but it slipped out in his tone. If she wasn’t so sick, she would have appreciated his care. “It seems like something important to have.”

“Professor took ‘em,” her words slurred, “I can’t take more, Bucky.”

“Why?” he hesitated, “what happened?”

“My powers,” her jaw clenched at the sharp pain going through her head, “I just wanted to spend time with you, Bucky, but the pain…” the tears spilled from her eyes, her eyes still closed. The grip on Bucky was tight, she was holding onto him like he was her lifeline, the only thing grounding her to the real world and not her head.

He sat beside her, his hands hovering over her, unsure of what to do. She heard a sliver of guilt going through him, and sadness overwhelmed her because of that. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.

“No,” she shook her head, wrapping him up in her arms, “it’s my fault. You’re amazing, Bucky, and I couldn’t stay away,” her tears wet his shirt, her head resting on his shoulder snuggly. She couldn’t help but notice the safe feeling that overwhelmed her in that moment. It was almost like it was where she belonged, safe in his arms. “Your mind… it’s just so beautiful, you’re so beautiful, Bucky. And I was greedy, I wanted you to myself, even if it meant a little pain.”

“A little?” he asked, his voice laced with a sassiness she hadn’t seen before.

She laughed quietly, looking at his face. His blue eyes were sincere, full of emotion and thoughts she could never bring herself to decipher. “A lot,” she sighed, her eyes fixated on his. “I fell back into old habits.”

“I get it,” he assented, his eyes cast on hers, looking for something she didn’t quite know what it was. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Stay,” she whispered, her heart beating fast inside her. “Please, stay.”

And Bucky did. For the first time, someone who had met her, all of her, stayed with her. That only made her love him more. He hugged her tightly, his head resting on the crook of her neck. “I’ll stay,” he reassured her, his thumb caressing her shoulder gently, “I got you”

She mumbled ‘I’m sorry’ like a prayer on his shoulder. It was too much input, her own emotions and his blended and her tears were their escape. “I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you,” she sniffed, breaking the hug. “It’s not fair.”

“Hey,” he gently pushed her hands out of her face. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red, but she could tell he didn’t care, she heard the word ‘beautiful’ bounce around in his head. “I can take it.”

She shook her head, words unable to escape her quivering lips. “Hey, stop,” he said firmly but lovingly, “listen to me,” he grabbed her face delicately, his fingers brushing her cheeks delicately. “I can take it, doll. Trust me. I have my demons too,” he whispered, “and they don’t scare you. You don’t scare me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t look away from his eyes. The sincerity in them disarmed her completely, the little restraint she had completely gone. Her breath hitched at the sight of the glimmer in his eyes and the love in his mind. “Thank you,” she mouthed, her voice gone.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled at her, the boyish grin he had sported when he arrived back. “How about I make you some tea?” he got up, walking a few steps to the kitchen. He moved around like her tiny little flat was where he belonged. “I make a mean chamomile tea.”

She laughed quietly, her brain slowly calming down, her fever settling. “I’d like that.”

#Bucky Barnes #TFATWS #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #one shot #marvel fanfiction #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes x librarian!reader #my masterlist

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emwritesfootball · 3 years

Text

Lockdown Punishments 3 | Eric Dier

Over the last couple of days Eric was messaging you pictures of his veggie garden that he has been working on during lockdown. He decided to facetime you the garden whilst you were in a business zoom call. You muted the call but had to keep your camera on. He was showing you around and what he had done, and it wasn’t until he flipped his camera to selfie mode that he was topless just in short shorts and sweating from working in his garden. You became instantly aroused and he could tell. He asked what you were doing, and you told him you were currently in a business meeting. He thought it would be a perfect time to punish you and told you to get yourself of discreetly on facetime to him without the people noticing from the meeting.

Word Count: 1,126

Warnings: semi-public FaceTime sex while on Zoom, mentions of edging and vegetable-fucking; a sexy, sweaty Gardener!Eric

A/N: Please don’t put vegetables or any other food inside of your vagina xx

- - -

Lockdown: Day Thirty.

Eric: My tomatoes are growing [two attachments]

Lockdown: Day Thirty-Six.

You: How are the tomatoes?

Eric: [five attachments]

Eric: The basil misses you and so do I.

You: Tell the basil I miss it, too xx

Lockdown: Day Forty.

You were sat in front of your laptop trying to keep a neutral expression on your face as the world’s most boring meeting took place on your screen. When Eric’s contact information popped up on your phone as an incoming FaceTime request. You were quick to accept, making sure to mute yourself on your meeting before Eric’s face popped up.

“Hello.” You couldn’t see his face, but his vegetable garden was in full view. “I was working out here and the cucumbers wouldn’t stop asking me to FaceTime you.”

You let out a giggle, setting your phone in the centre of your laptop so it would look like you were paying attention while speaking to Eric. You placed your hand over your mouth as you responded to him in full volume now that you were muted. “Are the cucumbers ready to be picked?”

Eric’s hand came on the screen and you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering as you compared his large hand to the growing cucumber. “Mm, just about - I think about a week or so and they’ll be ripe enough to be picked. I just wish you were here to enjoy them with me.” His voice got low as he murmured, “Would’ve loved to watch you fuck yourself on one before I make you eat it.”

“Eric!” You’d never heard anything so filthy in your life and coming from Eric’s mouth, no less. “You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe I would.” He switched the FaceTime camera around so you could see him, and damn he looked good. Eric was sweaty and shirtless, a little sunburned and out of breath from exertion.

“You can’t distract me like this,” you murmured, your voice strangled. “I’m in a meeting for work and I’m supposed to be paying attention.” You squeezed your thighs together as you tried to focus on your boss.

“Oh, really?” Eric’s smirk grew. “The perfect time for your latest punishment, then.”

“No. No no no no no.” Your eyes widened and you tried to shake your head but stopped halfway through.

“You’re muted, yes?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Then you’ll do exactly as I say. Can your colleagues still see you?”

“Yes.”

“Even better.”

“What are you going to have me do?”

Eric hummed, raising his eyebrows. “You’re going to touch yourself during this meeting.”

“No. I...I can’t.”

“Is there a problem?” Your boss’s voice sounded over your speakers, calling your name and bringing attention to yourself.

“No, there’s no problem, I’m sorry. I’m just a little confused. Could you go over the process one more time, please?” You asked, breathing a sigh of relief when your boss launched back into the beginning of her speech.

“Almost getting caught already?” Eric chuckled. “Naughty girl.”

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat at his words. “I am not!”

“You are, and you’re going to touch yourself and masturbate during your meeting. If you’re good, I might even let you cum while all your colleagues watch. Just don’t let them know what you’re doing.”

“Please, Sir. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do you need to safeword?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll do this. Unless you’d rather have a more intense punishment…?” Eric trailed off but the look on his face told you he had something more sinister in mind if you turned this down.

“No, Sir. This punishment is just fine,” you said, swallowing hard. Your pussy was already betraying you and you could feel your damp panties leak onto your leather couch. “Please continue.”

“Tell me how wet you are.”

You dipped your hand out of view of the camera, your fingers easily connecting with your sodden panties. “So wet. You make me so horny, Sir.”

“Describe it. Use your words, Babygirl.”

“I can’t. What if they read my lips?”

“Then let them. At least they’ll come away from the meeting knowing that one of their colleagues is getting orgasms.” You felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment as Eric said, “Now, tell me how wet you are.”

“Dripping. My pussy is so sensitive I’m going to cum any minute. You’ve been denying me an orgasm for weeks, Sir - I don’t know how long I can hold out.”

“You’ll hold out until I say you can cum,” Eric growled, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, Sir.”

You shifted slightly in your seat as you rubbed your clit, a low whimper leaving your lips that only you and Eric could hear. You parted your lower lips slightly, your middle finger tapping your clit.

“How’s my pussy doing?” Eric asked lowly, his expression heated.

“Needy. Oh God, I want an orgasm, Sir.” As if in response, your pussy clenched around nothing, priming itself for Eric’s cock that would never enter it.

“You’ll get one - it’ll just be a ruin.”

“You wouldn’t,” you gasped. “My pussy needs to be filled, Eric, even if it’s just my finger!” You were acutely aware of the fact that you could be seen talking while muted on your Zoom meeting, but your brain was foggy with need and you just didn’t care.

“You’ll take what I give you and nothing more. Do you want a ruin or do you want me to stop right now and leave you like this for the foreseeable future?”

“No, please, Sir - don’t stop!”

“Just keep rubbing your clit, Babygirl. And make sure you tell me when you’re about to cum so I can decide whether or not to let you.”

You seethed, glaring at him through FaceTime in a way that must have seemed insane to your coworkers on the Zoom. You covered your mouth with your free hand as you mumbled, “Eric I’m gonna cum.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please let me cum, Sir, please!”

“Cum. Now.”

You let out a muffled cry from under your hand, trying to keep your expression neutral as a powerful orgasm tore through you. Your pussy spasmed around nothing, needing a release but you hated that it wasn’t full.

Just as you were about to unmute yourself, the meeting ended and you breathed a sigh of relief, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Done with your meeting?” Eric smirked knowingly.

“Yes. I need another orgasm so badly. May I have another?”

Eric shook his head. “One ruin for today. We’ll see how you do later, but right now I’ve gotta go pick my veg for dinner tonight. Bye, Babygirl.”

With that, the FaceTime ended along with your workday and you were left to fend for yourself as your brain struggled to regain control.

#my writing: eric dier #requests: eric dier #lockdown punishment series #eric dier oneshot #eric dier one shot #eric dier smut #eric dier imagines #eric dier imagine #eric dier x reader

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 2 years

Note

TW: SA by parent (not csa this happened as an adult) / suicide thoughts?/ideation? (Idk the proper term)

I haven’t told anyone yet that I was SA by my parent during the 2020 lockdown. He is seen as a “good” “exemplary” man so I doubt anyone would believe me anyway. But the main reason I don’t wanna tell ppl is because I just don’t want people knowing?? Not even to protect him either. I just don’t want my family to be in my business if that makes sense. My mom will just make it into her sob story. And idk I just don’t want people to look at me and only see what he did to me. I wanna go to therapy but again don’t want my family to know. I’m a huge mental health advocate but i don’t want HIM to know about anything I’m doing. He already took a lot. I don’t like him knowing what I’m doing. Living with him is… idk. I’m also stuck as to whether I should move out or just wait until next year. I’m moving to a different country so I find it pointless to spend money for an apartment when I could just keep living at home and continue to save for next year. BUT at the same time idk how much more I can handle being around him.

I’m just very sad this is my life. That I even have to deal with this trauma. Honestly, it makes me think I won’t live life long. Not because I particularly want to end my life. I just don’t wanna keep living with these memories. And I know they’ll always be there. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it were someone I didn’t know…. But this was my FATHER. How does one live with this??? Im guessing my brain is on survival mode because I just push it back and feel meh so I can live and get through my days. Sometimes I wish there was assisted suicide for people with severe trauma too. If people with physical pain can decide it’s time to go in a humane way, with their dignity still intact, why can’t people with severe trauma? It might be fucked to think but idk. And sure maybe therapy will help but at the end of the night the memory of that trauma will always stay.

Most days im fine. Believe me. I loooove life. Any little thing makes me so happy to be alive (pertaining to nature specifically). But yeah I get my super sad days. Just wanted to vent.

Hope y’all are all well ♥️

Hi anon,

I am so sorry this happened to you. It shouldn’t have. At all. And you deserved so much better.

Your feelings are really valid and understandable. He doesn’t deserve to know anything about you, and it’s very fair that you don’t want him to.

While it’s not ideal, is there somewhere you can stay away from him while saving money? Maybe a friend or family member you can pay cheaper rent to? I also think you’d be valid to go seek out resources and supports in your area.

If you want to go to therapy, is there a way you can go without them knowing?

I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. And while the memories may never go away, they can get better. The memories won’t always affect you so much and they won’t be so close to the surface. You can heal. I know it might seem otherwise right now, but you can heal. You are not alone in this.

And while it’s not a long term solution, if nature makes you happy, are you able to go outside and go for hikes or walks? And just be in nature? Try and focus on the little things that make you happy. Super sad days are so valid. And you are so valid.

April

#mod april #trauma talks #tw sa #sa #tw suicide #tw suicidal thoughts #suicide ideation

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salamanderinspace · 2 years

Text

personal updates. sheeeesh

I feel I'm officially Fallen on Hard Times. Husband is still out of work and still in full lockdown mode. Won't go out. Won't even take the trash. Very convinced COVID is 100% going to kill him.

He's also been very political lately, sometimes shouting "fuck Ukraine!" randomly or blasting the Russian Anthem 3 or 4 times a day. IDK. I don't engage.

Money is non-existent. No rent, restricted food (which is one the toughest things for me, always). I've applied for disability benefits but that process takes 6-8 months and last time I was refused because too much time had passed between when I last worked full time for an employer and when I was diagnosed. They acknowledged that yes my conditions do qualify me and yes I submitted adequate proof that they affect me now but because I could not prove that they affected me before 2015, I was denied.

My lifelong, incurable, genetic conditions.

IDK I've applied again but even if I get it the max benefits isn't half my rent. My royalties from my "successful" art career ran out last year and since I've been doing small odd jobs or selling a piece here or there. Meanwhile my laptop is very old and very broken (battery cannot charge, for instance) and so is my phone (again can only be used when plugged in.)

Husband seems to struggle with small tasks. He spends a whole day wailing about grocery shopping--which we do by instacart! And I bring the groceries in and put them away. But the instacart is still too much for him. Of course I am empathetic and supportive because I have my own accursed limitations.

Medical stuff. It hurts to move around but I do it anyway. Just muscle spasms and joint pain. I don't think things are much worse than when I was on meds. Emotionally I'm ... having more emotions than I used to. I'm a little on the fence about that. It feels morally correct to have emotions. It feels right and natural and like I should have them. It's stressful, though, because I can't express them to anyone, because everyone else is on a very short string. People get epistemologically threatened when I talk about my feelings. They don't really hear what I'm saying. I say "I feel like society isn't structured in a way that's safe for me or that meets my needs. I feel this is urgent," and they hear "you're bad and I want you to die in a violent revolution." It's so stressful.

I did therapy for awhile but we both agreed that most of the feelings I'm having are normal, reasonable, and Not Illness, and that we should conclude our business. He was a good therapist IMO, which is very rare and very hard to find. Sometimes they hit on you or have 10 cats or show up late to your appointments and only talk about themselves or don't talk at all. So I trusted my guy, my dude, but boy, did he seem tired.

The younger people are, they better they are at listening. I chronically tend to date people who are either much younger or much older than me, partly because that's what I'm attracted to and partly because they don't seem to have the brain worms everybody in my age range has. But I feel shame about that because, you know, age gaps are socially inappropriate and taboo and shamed and so that's another part of my life I can't really talk about.

One feeling I'm having a lot is boredom. I'm so bored with everything. I want to travel. I want to kiss a stranger on the mouth.

The last time I felt like I had Fallen on Hard Times was 2018. I was Down Bad for this girl, who... reciprocated, but didn't want to run away with me, and ended up essentially running away with another woman. My anti-seizure meds were discontinued and pulled from the market for mysterious reasons. So I ended up in the hospital, really in mortal danger. The docs forcibly gave me super heavy seizure meds - Lorazapam maybe? - and it made me disoriented and suggestable. They couldn't figure out WHY I was having symptoms and they got the idea that maybe I'd taken something (I didn't) in, like, a suicidal sort of way. And since I was disoriented and suggestable I was like, ok, whatever, and that's how I got locked in a psych ward for a month. Which was read bad and not the subject of this post.

I just got a call, just now. Not sure if anyone was following the saga of when my insurance suddenly dropped me for no reason and I had to move heaven and earth for months to get them to correct the error. Well, they did correct it, and then I got switched to a new company that took over the old company, and assigned a whole new doctor. So I put in an appointment and waited a month or two and I was supposed to see the doc on Monday. Well, I just got a call that, in the last month, that doc has ceased to take that insurance.

I'm feeling ok right now. I had a bagel for breakfast and carbs are very soothing. Sometime later today I'll be laying in bed, though, asking myself: what can I do? How can I change this? Trying to think my way out of this situation.

I've been pretty involved in politics and activism for the last 10 years. I've also been reading a lot of history, though. It seems like, historically, things do not get better. Not for people like me. The arc of history is not bending upward for people like me. Lately I look at social media and I see a lot of bad takes that make me feel epistmelogically threatened. I mean, that's social media... people just type words and half the time even they don't really believe them. But then you go out into the world and no one is wearing a mask anymore, and I wonder - does it matter, what people feel or believe, or does it matter how they act?

I hate feeling alienated on social media though. Even on tumblr there's no way to curate out all the bad takes without limiting yourself to corporation-friendly sanitized Content (TM).

I miss my therapist. Even if I could see him again I can't afford it. I miss the way he would say, "yes, that's true," really quickly, as if he was so uncomfortable. I don't want to make people uncomfortable. I want people to make choices and do actions based on truth.

#personal #medical #healthcare #politics #memoir #autobiographical

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years

Note

TLDR I unlocked (and actually tested) a new kink - pillow humping 🎀 👑 nsfw/tmi incoming:

okay so the last like two weeks I have been Really Riled Up All The Time for no specific reason my fave blogs are currently in super horny mode and I was just really needing something diff…i don’t have any toys but i DO love a good bit of d/s & feminisation in a fic and then i discovered ✨ pillow humping ✨ in a couple fics and THEN i saw a tiktok about all the diff things fem-presenting people had as their “thing” when they were kids (pillows, couches, rocking chairs, side of the sofa, bed poles, stair railings all kinds of shit) and i was just like “holy shit i have to try this”

ANYWAY this morning i woke up to a completely empty house for the first time in about four months (i still live at home and it’s been lockdown + school holidays) and read a couple fics (were any of them yours? you’ll never know 😏 🤐) and they helped but i really needed sound, like a voice like I NEEDED someone belittling me and telling me how much of a slut I was for wanting this (the idea of being caught by my SO/dom and then having them say “oh no, you were doing just fine without me” and basically commentating, gassing me up but also humiliating me FUCK) so i put some p0rn for the first time in like a year and half maybe two and…..lemme just say 🥵🥵🥵

the girls(/gays/theys) that get it? ✨ G E T IT ✨

(anyway I just wanted to share & you’ve made this such a safe space & also my fucked up brain afterwards thought “I wonder what S would’ve done if they’d found you” SORRY I really hope that doesn’t make you uncomfy AND, since we all know just how hot you are & that you’re a massive flirt- on the off chance you EVER felt compelled to do any voice work or the like… well, you know where to find me 😵‍💫😵‍💫)

- 🥺 xx

Oooh I am very excited for you to have experimented with your kinks! That's fun and exciting!

Especially when the kink is pillow humping. Yes yes yes. Pillow humping is so good. V hot for sure.

Damn damn damn I'm glad you had your alone time and had a damn good time with said time! It definitely sounds like a success story for this new kink. Or new kinks it sounds like- you've got pillow humping, exhibitionism, humiliation, and feminization all wrapped up in there along with dom/sub power dynamics.

👏 Good 👏 for 👏 you 👏 baby 👏

You go! Get that good solo-session in!

Also porn and erotic 15/10, sounds like you got really into it (and hey, sweetheart, maybe it's time to look into some toys... could be fun 😏)

Haha I love that for you, I'm not uncomfortable about that I'm more flattered than anything 😘 also, I love that this does feel like a safe space! That's how I want it to be! AND I will tell you... I have thought about doing voice work. I just don't have the time/space to do that right now. I've definitely also thought about turning parts of my fics into podfics but it just hasn't happened lol.

#asks #🥺 anon #tmi #<- again not for me but for other people if they wanna blog the tag y’know

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angelasscribbles · 3 years

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Confrontation

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Drake x Riley

One-shot

My master list.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Drake nearly dropped his glass of whiskey, “What? Who…I mean how…..Liam, what are you asking me?”

He could feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest, sure that the guilt was plastered across his face clear as day. He stared at his best friend while his brain tried to process what had just happened. He had been so sure that he had his feelings on complete lockdown, to avoid exactly this situation.

Liam stared back at him, his expression unreadable. He had gone into poker faced diplomat mode; something Drake had seen many times, but never directed at him.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed how you look at her?”

Drake dropped his eyes. Turns out, he didn’t have a poker face; or a diplomat mode, “Liam….I….I don’t know what to say…”

His heart felt like it was being squeezed right out of his chest. He felt guilty and relieved all at the same time. Now it wasn’t a secret anymore.

“I never meant for it to happen, I’ve tried to fight it, I would never-”

Liam held a hand out toward him, “Stop. It’s ok.”

“I…what?”

“I mean, it’s not something I wanted to know, or believe but I understand how it happened.”

Liam had a tortured look in his eyes, one that Drake knew all too well.

“Liam-”

“No. It’s my own fault. Everything was great, then when that news story broke, I did everything wrong. I chose Madeline, I didn’t contact her for weeks at a time and when she finally returned to court, I wasn’t there for her. You were.”

He gulped down his own whiskey, slammed the glass on the table then continued, “I’m sure it started out as you being a good friend to her…and to me. But, how could you not fall in love with her? Trust me, I get it. How can I blame you for loving her? I couldn’t help loving her and I tried to fight it too, in the beginning, for the good of Cordonia and all that.”

Drake watched as Liam poured another drink. He had never seen him like this before. Liam was scowling, clenching the glass so hard Drake was worried it might break. The look in eyes was something close to desperation.

“Liam, you were trying to protect her by staying away….”

Liam gave a scornful laugh, his voice thick with bitterness, “Yeah and how’d that work out for me? I had the perfect woman in love with me, ready to marry me despite the craziness that comes with my life and I ruined it. I made decisions about her life without her input, I let her feel abandoned, I got engaged to another woman for the love of God! Hell, I practically threw her into your arms. And I could see it happening, right in front of my eyes! I saw the way you looked at her and still I let you be the one that was there for her day after day while I was preoccupied with royal business and appearances!”

Liam turned to look out the window.

Drake struggled to find the right words to say but before he could come up with any, Liam spun to face him again, “I have to know Drake, is it mutual? How far has it gone?”

The pain and pleading in Liam’s voice was breaking him. Drake drew in a deep breath and answered as honestly as he could, “I can’t speak for her feelings, but we haven’t slept together if that’s what you’re asking.”

It was Drakes turn to gulp down his whiskey. Jesus. What a fucking situation they were in. He dropped his head down into his hands. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for loving her. That was one thing he did not, could not regret.

“I’m sorry Drake, I really am.”

Drake looked up, surprise and confusion written across his face, “You’re sorry?? For what? I’m the one that let myself fall for my best friends girl! After every thing you’ve done for me-”

Liam cut him off in mid-sentence once again, “I”m sorry because I stood by and let it happen. I let you fall in love with her. Part of me wants to step aside, put your happiness above my own. I know you think you owe me, but the truth is, you’ve given me far more than I’ve given you. You’ve been so much more than a best friend. You’re my brother. I would do damn near anything in the world for you. Anything but this. I know how you feel, I know you love her but I can’t give her up, I can’t. I need her like I need oxygen, Drake, I…I don’t care if it breaks your heart, I’m still going to marry her….if she’ll have me.”

With that, he sat his glass down on the table and walked out of the room.

#pixleberry #choices #TRR #LiamxMCxDrake #drake walker #liam rys #angelasscribbles #riley campbell #love triangle

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captainmazzic · 3 years

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Happy Halloween.

So it’s about time I gave a real fucking update instead of just dicking around being cagey about shit. I’ve mentioned a new project repeatedly. So let’s sit down and actually talk about it, friends. Pull up a chair, grab yourself some hot cocoa and strap in. Welcome to Sarc’s emotional roller coaster.

Bear with me. This is hard to talk about for so many reasons, but mostly because I’ve been belittled and ridiculed so many times in my life for liking “cringy” things or wanting to do things that other people think are stupid or childish. I hear the voice of my father telling me to “make something of my life” and “don’t squander your talents”, I hear the voice of my mother telling me I have “so much potential” and “one day I hope you get some ambition”, I hear the voice of my ex telling me to “stop wasting time with stupid shit” and “nobody is interested in failures”. I hear old teachers telling me honor roll students should go to college and study high-demand majors and anything else would be lazy and detrimental and won’t contribute anything worthwhile to society.

It’s the same shit that prevented me for a long time from posting art online. From posting writing online. From making ocs and showing them to other people. And now it’s preventing me from starting this project, and I’m so, so tired of it.

My biggest fear right now is that once I start talking about this project I’ll lose this tiny little community of people vaguely interested in my stuff that have somehow stuck around. External validation and sharing the things I love are my primary motivations with everything I do online, and while screaming into the void is all well and good, I need feedback and interaction and community. I need it so, so badly. I wouldn’t post jack shit – ever – if I didn’t need that, to be honest.

So anyway.

When the pandemic kicked into high gear earlier this year I got laid off for a few months. It gave me a lot of time to think about who I am and where I wanted to be in life, what mattered to me, what dreams I still had and which ones had fallen by the wayside.

Some of them are huge – once upon a time I was very religious. I went through seminary, got my minister’s certification, and was slated to be an associate pastor in a mega-church and rake in a six-figure income within 3 years. But I lost my faith and couldn’t stand the idea of being disingenuous.

And there was also a time when I received a full-ride scholarship to a very prestigious university that would have spanned a 12-year program and resulted in me having several doctorates and masters degrees by the end of it, in the fields of geology, palaeontology, and cladistics. But the scholarship program that was supposed to sponsor me went bankrupt the very semester I was supposed to capitalize on it. I was still accepted into the school, but the $1.2 million price tag would have all been out of my own pocket. So obviously that didn’t happen.

Those were the “acceptable” dreams. Those were the ones that parents and teachers and the general outside world approved of and thought were worthy goals. But neither of them panned out, and all I have left are the cringy ones. Like homesteading and sustainable living (can’t start without land, can’t have land without money). Like making comic books and doing art commissions for a living (it has to be steady to support myself, and I’m far too slow an artist for things to be steady). And like… playing video games.

Ha.

What’s funny is I can already envision the eyerolls and hear the snorts of laughter. What kind of dream is that? Only a handful of famous youtubers and twitch celebrities play video games for a living, and breaking into a field like that is pretty much impossible unless you already have friends in famous places.

Yeah, but… it would be so much fun. Right?

It WOULD be fun. I don’t have to become a super popular celebrity for it to be fun, right?

I don’t have to make it my day job and rake in piles of cash for it to be fun, right?

… I don’t have to actually be successful for it to be fun… right?

… Right?

… I love video games.

I’ve loved them ever since I tried and failed so many times to win The Empire Strikes Back on Atari 2600. I’ve loved them ever since I played Mortal Kombat with my cousin in his basement with the sound down super low because it was ultra-violent and I would have been in so much trouble if mom caught me playing it. I’ve loved them ever since I tried and failed to finish Strife and Hexen and Heretic without the computer crashing and rebooting to DOS. I’ve loved them ever since I had to cheat-code my way through Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II just to get past the first boss fight but then no-clipped through the wall and died anyway. I still love that game.

But I stopped playing video games for a very long time. I was intimidated out of them by an ex and a somewhat toxic friend group who were Real Gamers™. I was brought to LAN parties but not allowed to play, because I slowed down the team and didn’t know the controls. I was banned from commenting on other people’s moves or cheering people on because it was distracting and I could cost them a win. I was even kicked out of their online D&D campaigns because I couldn’t be serious enough or roleplay well enough for their standards. Even if I was playing a game on my own, I couldn’t play with anyone else in the house because I’d be ridiculed for dying a lot, or for going the wrong way, or for picking the wrong game because only certain games are “good” and most of the ones I wanted to play were “stupid” or “trash” or a “waste of time”.

That kind of thing sits with me for a very, very long time. I didn’t really play games at all for over a decade. Even after I ended up on the opposite side of the country, with a new circle of friends, I couldn’t bring myself to play much of anything.

And then I had an extended visit with a friend of mine, and he introduced me to an early version of a ridiculous little game called Minecraft. My friend was an avid gamer but also a very kind one. In the ten years before this, I had told myself that I just preferred to watch other people play games instead of playing them myself (a lie. I mean, I absolutely adore watching other people play, but I also want to play too lol), my friend saw through that and very gently encouraged me to take a stab at playing Minecraft myself. He moved his laptop over to me, and I played a whole ten minutes with him watching before my nerves failed me and I promptly died. But miraculously it wasn’t a big deal to him. It was just a game. I might have cried in relief, I don’t remember.

After my visit I shelved playing video games for like another year, despite buying a whole mess of them because other friends online loved certain titles and wanted to talk about them with me. (I never played them, just bought them. I couldn’t even handle the thought of playing by myself in my own house). But for some reason I mentioned to my brother-in-law my old visit to my Minecraft-loving friend, and he just… up and bought the game for me. My brother-in-law is also an avid gamer with a lovely and patient disposition, and he suggested I just play in creative mode and build things to start. So I did that (behind a locked door in the RV that I lived in by myself, with the lights off and the sound down low) and Minecraft was my sole video game for another several years.

Then a couple years ago another friend of mine (hi Char) introduced me to Star Wars: The Old Republic, and I fell in love. It sparked a renewed interest in video games that I thought I would never really have the opportunity to satisfy, because games were still intimidating.

Let me clarify: I… SUCK. At video games. I’m terrible at them. Learning controls is a nightmare and a tunicate evolving its own brain would learn faster than me. If I’m aiming, I can’t hit the broad side of a barn. I have the direction sense of a whirligig beetle on the back of a drunk pigeon. I die fast and I die often. I can count the number of games I’ve actually finished on one hand. Even less if we don’t count the ones I had to use cheat codes to get through. But none of that diminishes my love of experiencing them, and over this whole pandemic and quarantine thing I’ve had a lot of time to unpack and mull over my thoughts and feelings and passions about them.

… I moved my RV to a new spot literally the day before the lockdown in my state first initiated. Before this I was in a spot that had no internet other than what reception I could get on my phone, with severely limited bandwidth and patchy, unreliable service. The new spot has a steady wi-fi connection, and while upload speed is utter shit, downloading and streaming video are just this side of manageable. So I spent the first three months of the quarantine lockdown doing pretty much nothing other than watching Jacksepticeye, CrankGameplays, and Markiplier play video games on YouTube. (I honestly had no idea before this that people even did let’s plays. My internet access/speed has been shit for so long I’m totally out of the loop).

It… for fear of sounding utterly stupid yet again, it inspired me.

Like. These people really love what they’re doing. They just. Play video games and have fun with it, and I mean yeah they make money hand-over-fist doing it but the main thing is they HAVE FUN doing it. They have fun! Playing video games! In front of people! It’s wild. And the thing that REALLY got me was… they have feedback on it too. They have a COMMUNITY. They have people they can talk to about it. They have people that they can play games WITH, even, who don’t yell at them or tell them they suck every five minutes or tell them they can’t play with them because they’re worthless as teammates. They can fuck up in a game and their friends are laughing along with them on Discord instead of screaming at them to get it right or get out. They can play games by themselves in their house and then upload videos on the internet and then they can talk to other people about it! They have fun! It’s awesome! They have fun!!

I just. It meant so much to me. It meant so much to me to see these videos of these three, and then another dozen or so that I’ve followed since, play all these games and have such a good time and also be such a positive and kind and encouraging source of energy.

I know all of this is not exactly about video games specifically. It’s about coming to terms with how I’ve been treated as a person and as a friend, about how other people respect someone’s interests and passions, about how it’s okay to share your interests with other people and it’s okay to like things that other people might not care about or think are important.

And I’m so, so tired of not doing the things I love because I’m afraid of what other people will think.

So I, uh. I invested all of the stimulus money I had into a new rig and equipment like a camera, lighting, acoustic panels, all that shit. I dug out all the games I bought but never played, I made accounts on all the big gaming services like Steam and Itch.io and GoG, and I made a YouTube channel. And I’m going to be making my own let’s plays. And it will suck, and it will be cringy and awkward and badly done, and it won’t make me money or be a valid career option or be anything but another very expensive hobby, but it will be mine, and it will be something I can share with people and (hopefully) have fun with, and it will (hopefully) be an avenue for some of this positive social interaction I’m craving.

I know YouTube can be toxic and super negative and full of trolls and cancel culture fanatics and people just waiting to find something to tear you down for, but like. Come on, y’all. I’m posting this on tumblr dot com. Toxic is everywhere anyway. I just want to try, you know?

I just want to love video games again.

Someone famous that I look up to so, so much told me – without knowing that I was even listening, without even knowing that I even exist – that if I enjoy doing something, to just go for it. To just jump in and do it, and if it works then it works, and if it doesn’t, what have I actually lost?

And I’m lucky enough to have four whole offline friends that I’ve mentioned this idea to, and each of them has said encouraging things like I’d have a good voice and face and style for making let’s plays. I honestly don’t know how true that part is, but on my good days I believe them. And they also said that I should go for it, to just try.

So that’s… that’s what I’m doing, I guess. I just want to try.

I know it’s not Star Wars fanart. I know it’s not Star Wars fanfiction. I know it’s not Star Wars meta or essays or ranting about the Sith and the Jedi and the Force. I know it’s not what y’all want from me. And that’s utterly terrifying. I’m bracing myself to be alone on the internet again, because I know that when I dive headfirst into this thing, it’ll eat away into the time that I normally might be spending doing writing or art, and it’s going to be something no one else wants to see and no one signed up for. And that’s partly why it’s taken me so very, very long to get started.

The other part is more physical. Of course as soon as I decide that I’m going to put my face on a camera is when my entire face goes to shit. I’m currently waiting on a potential diagnosis for mouth cancer, while already dealing with a severe jaw infection that’s causing my teeth and gums to rot inside my mouth. They already took part of my jaw, I’m missing teeth, others are turning black, if I open my mouth even just a little it is so obvious and I look like a very, very literal zombie. I have never been more grateful that masks are socially acceptable. I have a series of twelve appointments scheduled to treat this shit now that I have dental and health insurance (goodbye paycheque), and I might qualify for reconstruction surgery too. But that doesn’t really help how I look right now.

So I just can’t bring myself to start this project just yet. I’ve been sitting on it for months now with all the other pieces in place, but I just. Can’t. Start. It’s driving me crazy, because I want to start so badly. I feel like I’m wasting time. I feel like I’ve already wasted so much time, because I haven’t even done anything else in the meantime. I haven’t done hardly any art or fanfic, nothing. My anxiety is spiking so high right now because I have all these expectations of myself, but I can’t do anything about it. I’ve been told that I could just start without a camera or wear a mask on screen, and I’ve actually done some recording doing exactly that, but I just… can’t seem to make anything I want to finalize.

It’s also frustrating because I have no way of uploading anything at home. I’ll have to go over to my partner’s house which is nearly an hour’s drive away in order to get internet good enough to upload videos, which means that upload schedules are going to be shiiiiiit and that’s also frustrating.

But. But. BUT. I want to do this.

I want to do this so badly. I want to share let’s plays and experience a love of video games with other people. I want to actually play games with other people too. I also just acquired a piano keyboard, and I want to play again on the regular because I miss it so much. I used to play piano for hours every single day, it’s so relaxing and fun, maybe I can post that too. Maybe I can post let’s draws or something, where I ask y’all what to draw and then make a video of me drawing it while bullshitting to the camera I don’t know it sounds like fun. Maybe I can post videos of my cooking because the shit I make seems to be everyone’s favourite thing on instagram, and maybe I can take my camera with me when I go to the ocean or hike up into the middle of nowhere in the mountains and film how beautiful everything is up there. Or maybe I can do none of that and just focus on one thing, I honestly have no idea what I’m doing or how to do it, but I just… I want to try. I just want to try.

I don’t know where any of this is going anymore. I’m sorry I haven’t responded to messages, or opened up commissions. I’m sorry that this isn’t what y’all wanted. I’m still going to continue drawing and writing, I’m still going to be around, I’m not going anywhere, but I have no idea how prolific I’m going to be and I have no idea even when I’ll start uploading videos, to be honest. But I just. I’m just gonna try. It might still take me a while but I’m gonna try. Wish me luck. I love y’all.

#long post #psa #sarc speaks #sarc speaks a LOT #3k words worth of a LOT #I'm so sorry #OTL

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bbyboybrock--archived · 4 years

Text

The Box [Part 2] (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* PART 2 OF THE BOXXXXXX (please and thank you 🥺) [Read Part 1 of the Box here]

Written: 2020

Word Count: 1,536

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, angsty??, kidnapping, unhealthy relationship, mention of sex, manipulation

Masterlist

It would be my luck that a global pandemic that resulted in the world shutting down for two weeks would happen right after I got kidnapped. At first, I thought that I was lucky. The guys couldn’t move to Hawaii anymore, which means I could probably escape. Then I found out that the whole moving to Hawaii thing was a joke. They were just moving to a house with a backyard so tropical that it looks like Hawaii. I should have known that they wouldn’t just abandon their lives in Los Angeles like that. Especially with Sam and Jake dating Kat and Tara, who were going to stay here.

They still decided to move during the lockdown. Which worked out in their favor, if I’m being completely honest; Sam, Colby, and Jake got a big moving van for their bigger stuff because they lived in the same building and could share the space. That gave Colby more room in his car for me. I got put into the trunk because everyone decided that it was less suspicious than Colby driving around with me blindfold in the passenger seat. They didn’t want me to know how to get to the new house or the address. For a group of guys who collectively share one brain cell, they’re not stupid when it comes to committing a felony. I’m pretty sure Colby drove around longer than he needed to just to throw off my sense of direction and how far away we are from the apartment.

Two weeks turned into three months of this bullshit lockdown. I almost got lucky when Sam broke his back. I was left Corey and Jake and I thought would be easy because I could appeal to their sympathetic side. Sadly, that didn’t work. I was halfway out before they caught on and dragged me back to Colby’s room.

I say Colby’s room, even though it’s our room because sometimes I don’t feel like I belong here. At least, not at first. Colby moved in some of my stuff into the room so I would feel at home. But being taken here against my will, and finding out that Colby stalked me before we met, takes out of the homely feeling of living with your boyfriend. But the more I'm stuck here, the more it starts to slowly feel like home.

I will say that I’m glad that Colby hasn’t forced himself on me. He understands the gravity of the situation and isn’t making it worse. I now get monitored internet access, which I didn’t have before, and I’m allowed to make YouTube videos now. Colby edits them to make sure I don’t upload subliminal messages. He’s also got me a lot of hobbies that don’t require the internet or social media to keep me occupied while he works and leaves the house. He got me a Nintendo switch with a few games. He put it on parental mode so I can’t go on twitter or anything. He’s been getting me art supplies and stuff so I can be creative. If I want to get anything with my money, I just tell him and he either orders it for me with my card or watches me shop.

If I’m being completely honest, this isn’t as bad as I made it out to be at first. While I mostly don’t feel like this is my home at first, the more I stay here the more it feels like it is becoming my home. I almost don’t want to leave. If the people in my life before Colby gave up so easily when I started talking to them less, then they weren’t really in my life in the first place. My parents didn’t like the idea of me moving to LA when I was 18, but I wanted to be an actress so I left. It was almost like they were rooting for me to fail every time I called home with news about failed auditions. They were happy when I did land roles, but they would always remind me that it didn’t mean I was going to make it. My friends back home were even less supportive, never believed that I was going to make in the first place. I’m pretty sure one of them started a rumor that I was a porn star just to make ends meet. Maybe Colby coming into my life was for the best.

At least I’m not stuck with just the boys 24/7. Tara and Kat would come over every once in a while to hang out with their boyfriends, and I quote, “to give me a break from dealing with the testosterone.” There have been a few times when the whole friend group got together for a party. Those were fun. Despite all the limitations, this situation isn’t all too bad.

“Hey babe, I’m back and I got you some stuff,” Colby says as he walks into the living room. I don’t have to be confined to Colby’s room anymore with a chain on my ankle. I have an anklet that shocks me if I get too close to the edge of the property. It sounds scary and a but I know he does it because he loves me. I don’t really want to leave the house anyway, with the pandemic still going on out there.

“Oh yay! I’ll wait for you to get out of the shower.” I save my spot in animal crossing and continue playing while Colby goes to decontaminate himself from the outside world.

Five minutes later Colby comes back out of the shower in sweats and dripping wet hair. He has a towel around his neck and slowly starts to dry his hair. I quicksave again before shutting off the game to give my undivided attention to Colby.

“You can go through the bags. I’m still wet and don’t want to ruin everything. You can also put the snack stuff in the mini-fridge.” There’s an unspoken rule in the house if you don’t keep it in your room or put your name on it, it’s fair game. So Colby pulled the mini-fridge out of storage to keep my food in the room when we first moved in to keep me happy with the food that I love.

“Was it crowded? You were gone for a long time today.” I grab the bag with stuff from the grocery store and start putting it away first.

By the time I finish Colby is fully dressed and his hair is mostly dry. He going through the remaining bags. I close the fridge and join Colby in the bed. Looking back at Colby now, with his stop blue eyes and steadily growing stubble, I feel bad for how I reacted when the whole thing started. I said mean things to him, things I didn’t mean at the time. I was just scared and mistook his kindness and affection for general creepiness. This is still the same Colby that I fell in love with before I found the box in his office closet.

“It wasn’t that crowded today. I think that everything calmed down from how it was earlier this year. I just made a lot of stops on my way home. I got us lunch too, by the way. Anyway, I know you’ve been getting bored so I got you a few hobbies I thought you would like.” He dumps a bag full of yarn and knitting needles.

“Is this for what I think it is?” I pick up the various colors and marvel at them.

“I noticed how much your eyes light up every time we watch Harry Style’s Today Show performance. And I also saw the look in your eye when you saw people making it on TikTok. So I looked it up and found the actual stitch pattern thing. I thought you would have fun making your own. And then I just got a few things for you to up-cycle your clothes you’ve been watching a lot of those videos. And some tie-dye that we can do together. And a plant to brighten up the room.” He’s trying so hard to make me happy. And it’s working.

“Oh my God! You didn’t have to get me all this stuff. I could have gotten them online or something. You’re so sweet.” I throw my arms around him and kiss his cheek.

“I know this whole situation has been unbearable and not pleasant in the beginning. But you’ve been such a good sport with all of this. I wanted to thank you for being patient and willing to let me in again. I truly do love you, Y/N, and just want the best for you.” He pushes my hair behind my ear and cups my face.

“I know, I’m sorry for freaking out when I first found out. I didn’t realize that you were only looking out for me. I love you too, Colby. I won’t try to leave again, I promise.” And I mean it. I don’t have any reason to leave. I finally have someone who loves me and went this far to prove it, why would I want to?

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

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Love Lockdown - Part 3

Lovesick

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris braces himself for his FaceTime with you.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity

Notes: First In My Feelings Monday™ on books! Hopefully there’ll be more musings as the weeks go on, but I loved the whimsy the mindset added to me day! 🥰 This part was kind tough to write cos it required me to get into an opposing mind frame from the Reader, but a fun challenge nonetheless! Read the previous part here!

As much as he loved Winter in Boston, it was Spring that really captured Chris’ heart.

He’d been watching the beautiful day pass by outside his home office window while he took a few remote meetings with his team. Lockdown didn’t mean shutdown, for Chris at least, as he’s in preparation mode for an upcoming virtual press junket.

However, as soon as those glorious words, “That’s all for today,” were uttered, he upped and gathered his jacket, Dodger and headed for the front door.

“Going for a walk!” He called over his shoulder, his way of saying he’d be back soon.

“Alright, let me grab my jacket!” Scott said in response. Chris sighed and laughed to himself as he waited by the door for his brother. “What?” Scott asked when he got to Chris, who was shaking his head at his brother’s self-invite. He just laughed lightly as they bounded for the street, locking the door behind them.

It took Chris some growing up to appreciate this season. Truly appreciate it. But he’s so glad he does now. There’s a polarity in its elements that make it unique from the other seasons.

The bright sun peeks from behind thick clouds every so often, fully exposed and giving light gloriously. The flowers, shy and budding in March, are now in April, with just a little time, bold and in bloom. The trees billowing in the cold wind are unaware of their own fierce presence, so gentle in their saving grace that is their shade.

Kind of complex, Spring in Boston. Could be perceived as annoying in its inconsistency of temperature within a 24 hour period; cold one part of the day then hot the next. But he loved that not everyday or every hour was the same. Kept him on his toes in a way.

He couldn’t help but imagine how you’d like it here at this time of year. How he’d like you here with him. To have you on this walk right now. To hold you close when the sharp wind cuts through, chilling you both. You’d say what you always say when you snuggle up to him for warmth; that your southern bones feel the cold more than he does.

Maybe it’s true. Or Maybe it’s a lame excuse to be closer to him. Either way, he’d never complain. He loves it. He loves you.

Chris smiles to himself at the thought. Yeah, you’d love it here in the Spring. Definitely more than you did in December. What a start to a shit show that turned out to be. Chris hates to think about it. But his brain can’t help but go back there sometimes.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Scott asks, walking alongside his brother.

Chris lets out a long breath. He’s back there right now. But it doesn’t start and stop there. December makes him think of January. January makes him think of February. Then March, and before he knows it, he’s been through the chain of events that led you two here: Him in Boston, and you in Tennessee. In love but hurting from it. In the midst of a pandemic? Your relationship is just as uncertain as the end to the world’s madness.

Chris kicks himself at the painful memories. Shaking his head, he looks over to Scott who is patient as his brother finds his words.

“I’m thinking that despite the craziness of the last few weeks, months even, and being on lockdown...”

“Uh-huh…” Scott says knowing there’s more

“In an odd way, I’ve felt more free than I have in a while.”

“How’s that?”

“Well… hasn’t it been kinda great being, ya’know, solo...?” Chris eludes, not wanting to say the actual words.

“Huh? Oooooh!” Scott says as he catches Chris’ drift.

Chris won’t lie; the last 3 weeks away from you have been headache free. The bachelor lifestyle coming back to him with ease. He’s spent enough years on his own to know how to revel in the perks of singleness. No side eyes when he’s yelling at CNN or football, no being told to do stupid, necessary chores that can wait til he’s ready, and no one to get hurt when he’s inevitably fucked up in some way or another.

“Only problem is, I’m the only one of us who’s actually single.”

“Right… I know, and don’t get me wrong! I feel really lucky she hasn’t left me yet, and that she’s stuck it out with me for this long. I really can’t imagine my life without her.”

“But…” Scott prompts.

Chris is hesitant as he starts again. “But lately, guiltily...I wonder if that would be such a bad thing. If we were to… ya’know,” Chris makes weird hand motions that Scott eventually interprets as “breakup”.

“It’s a wonder you’re any good at charades.”

As much as he feels bad and knows he could’ve done some things differently, handled some things better, Chris is sooo frustrated with you.

“Why won’t she just tell me what she’s really thinking— exactly what she’s feeling. I’m not a fucking mind reader! You would think it’d be easy for her, considering what she does for a living, I don’t get it man.”

Scott waits for his cue for Chris to ask the golden question, but when he doesn’t hear it, he looks over at his older brother. Chris looks every bit a boy that’s absolutely lovesick, kicking the rocks in his way, pouting down at his feet. “You want my opinion?” Scott eventually offers.

“Please. I don’t think Dodger’s gonna give me anything good.” Chris bends down to pet the pup quickly before continuing their walk

“I think she has told you what she’s feeling— just not explicitly from her mouth.”

“If that’s the case, then her shutting down every time we’re addressing an issue is supposed to mean…?”

“You’ve got to give her some room to emote, cos you can be a bit, well, you know.” Chris did know, but it didn’t make it sting any less.

Accusations from past girlfriends of him not listening, only hearing, what’s been communicated have not gone unnoted. That, coupled with his bubbling emotions have led to many a breakup in his life. Relationships demoted to damn near flings the way women have come and gone from his life. But what he has with you couldn’t just be another relationship for the books. Chris wants to break the cycle with you… for you.

“I thought I was doing that when I suggested we social distance separately. Then last night she made it very clear that I was very wrong.”

“I could’ve told you that you were very wrong. Tax free.” The two men make their way back to the house. Looking at his brother before him, all sad and distraught, Scott was not going to let him start his own pity party.

“I don’t want to lose her. She’s the one. She’s my one. I know it.”

“Then don’t lose her.”

“When’s anything EVER been that simple?”

“I’m not saying it is, but if you know she’s the one, don’t give up so easily bro. Try everything in your power to give her the relationship she deserves. And she will do the same for you. But, if the problems still persist, then maybe, it would be for the best if…” Scott trails off as he sees his brother’s eyes start to look like those of the dog by their feet. “Look, I’m just telling you from personal, very recent experience, that it isn’t all that bad being friends on the other side of it all.”

“Ugh, God! I think I’d rather have a limb caught off and force fed to me than try to be friends with her if we ever… I can’t even say it.” Chris pokes his tongue out like he’s tasted something awful.

“You’re being hella dramatic right now.”

“But bro, I’m not even exaggerating!” The brothers laugh as they walk up the driveway. As they cross the threshold of the front door, Chris’ reminder for your FaceTime call sounds off, echoing in the foyer. He turns it off and looks up at his brother. “That’s the call to my love’s fate” he tries to joke.

Scott wears a soft, empathetic smile “Everything’s gonna be just fine. No matter what.”

Chris tries to wear some optimism, but the possibility of this being the end of your relationship tugs at him. He won’t let it get a hold of him. “Thanks, bro. I’ll see you later. And DO NOT eavesdrop.”

“Whaaaat??? I would never!” Scott feigns offense. Chris looks unconvinced. “Dodge and I are gonna enjoy an afternoon movie, isn’t that right Dodgey Wodgey?”

“Dodger’s not even buying it. Stop it.”

“Yeah, that was weird. See ya later, man.”

Chris takes the stairs to his bedroom two by two. He sets up his laptop, making sure to plug in its charger; wouldn’t want it to die on this call.

He paces around the space in front of his desk. As many video calls as he’s done the past few weeks, none of them were as important as this one. Nervousness washes over him. He decides to embrace it; it’s natural, and a good sign. He still cares. He can only hope you do, too.

The digital clock strikes 2. It’s time.

He calls you, the laptop ringing for a while longer than his beating heart can take. His heart sinks and doubts creep in. Is this is it? Is she done with me? No fight, no… nothing? This can’t be it. But then the ringing ceases and the screen says “connecting”, a sigh of relief involuntarily escaping him.

He can’t help but beam, proud he knows you better than his negative thoughts do. Happy that you wouldn’t leave him high and dry.

Then he sees your face. Your beautiful face. The natural lighting of your room bouncing off your gorgeous, brown skin. Your hair is the perfect combination of defined curls and loose wisps, neat but not overly so. You are the epitome of effortless, natural beauty. He almost feels like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hey baby! For a second there, I thought you wouldn’t answer,” he nervously chuckles.

You smile at him but it doesn’t reach your eyes. He senses your apprehension, even through a screen. He hadn’t done a good job of setting up this conversation with peace of mind for you, now that he thinks about it. “We need to talk” is almost always followed by some heavy, unwanted shit. Not that this talk will be easy, but he most certainly doesn’t want you thinking the worst. He genuinely wants to talk; explain his fuck ups and frustrations. And try to listen.

He figures since he’s put you two here, it’s his job to steer this ship to calmer, nicer waters. Here goes. He tries some small talk, anxiety making him ramble. “So, how’s the… weather? That’s a stupid— ugh, I’m sure it’s, like, hot. You’re down south, where it’s hot—”

“Chris?”

“Yes honey?”

“I don’t wanna do this with you.”

There it is; his worst fear. Losing you. No. He was determined to let his optimism win. Determined that his ears were deceiving him in this moment.

“What do you mean?”

Chris is too all in to go down without a fight, and fight for you he was prepared to do.

Part 4 | What’d you think?

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