#Episode: Home on the Range

[soft-pine]

fundamentally speaking what you have to understand about 12.22 is dean in the beginning, comedically and riskily and desperately using a grenade launcher to blow a giant hole in a cement wall of the bunker, wrecking his knee, and crawling through that hole getting all muddy and dirty and bloody and sweaty and saving everyone. and when he's about to fire the grenade launcher starting to say the catchphrase yipee-ki-yay mother fucker.

and also dean toward the end, tearily and carefully and painfully and delicately wandering through his own mother's subconscious, looking for the place she's holed herself up in. and explaining to her what it felt like to be raised as a parentified child in the chaos and tragedy of their family after her death. asking her to see him, to really see him. he's standing over the crib of his infant baby brother and his mother's version of who he was as a child is sitting at the kitchen table eating a pb&j. and dean is crying and his voice is soft and shaky and he's telling his mom that from the age of the imagined child behind them, he had to be more than a brother, he had to be a father and a mother.

and those are the two times in that episode that dean says the word "mother."

and he's perfect he's perfect he's perfect. he is the most character to ever happen. my love is too big for words.

[4ddi3addie2005]

Before I went to bed I saw the Youtube notif that TADC was going to Netflix and it INVADED my dreams so vividly I have not had such an episodic sequential serialized cohesive dream in months it was literally its own chapter its own short story

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

little comforts with the lads li’s

(a self-indulgent imagining of them with a neurodivergent MC)

✨ xavier & overstimulation

(not the sex kind, sorry. but probably that too) Xavier completely understands when you get overwhelmed by existing. he gets the same feeling sometimes. you develop a code for it eventually, a combination of eye contact and eyebrow-raising that signals to the other person that you need out, whether from a Hunter’s Association party or a grocery store with way too many people. back at home, you’ve created a haven together- eye masks and soft blankets for him, headphones and fidgets for you, whatever makes you feel peaceful and calmed. the ceiling lamp is absolutely not allowed- Xavier drapes the walls with soft spheres of light or swirls a firefly-glow of sparks along the bed in a warm canopy.

🎨 rafayel & hyperfixations/jumping hobbies

you might as well consider collecting hobbies a hobby in itself. crochet needles and yarn, jigsaw puzzles, a wood burning setup, a console and video games- whatever brings you joy, Rafayel is enthusiastically behind it. he doesn’t judge you for wanting to learn a new art style out of the blue- he’ll sign up for a pottery class with you and buy you pounds of clay. he loves your passion and enthusiasm and matches it with his own. he loves being creative with you, in whatever form it happens to take that day. plus, with the amount he spends on paint and canvas, he’s not about to judge you for getting boxes of new supplies for something. he’s hyping you up every time! even if it isn’t an interest he shares, he’s happy you’re happy.

🩺 zayne & health anxiety/ocd

no matter how many times you ask for it, Zayne is happy to give you reassurance. yes, that chicken was cooked all the way. you have a weird flutter in your chest? of course he'll listen to your heart. he listens to every symptom, every worry with unfailing patience. after all, he wants to be your protector, your safest place- this is just one way to be that for you. he never makes you feel irrational for your fears, just steadily helps you face them each and every time. he doesn't judge your compulsions, but he offers his expertise whenever you ask- he lets you take your temperature ten times a day but also explains the normal range and when to actually worry.

💭 sylus & overthinking

okay hear me out, this goes both ways: he helps ground you when you’re overthinking negatively but also supports you when you’re being enthusiastic about literally anything. he’s all in- if you have a favorite tv show he’s watching every episode and reading every analysis of it so you can discuss. he’s fully invested in your office drama, your gossip, your made-up stories about the bird family that lives outside your apartment window. but he also soothes you when you spiral into worry or fear. he happily goes through what-if scenarios with you, most of them ending in him spectacularly defeating anything that could ever threaten you. he makes it clear over and over again that you’re completely safe with him, physically and emotionally.

❤️‍🩹 caleb & insecurity

his life mission to make you feel adored. he makes a point of worshipping every part of you, especially anything you consider a "flaw". nothing is too much or too little- you're perfect exactly as you are. if he overhears you complaining about your thick thighs on a call with Tara, he's going to be buried in them later that night, pressing kisses to every inch. he loves working out and training with you. if you want to get healthier he's gladly cooking fresh ingredients into nutritious meals and helping you build up a fun fitness routine- but if there's even a hint of it being because you don't like the way you look in the mirror? he's going to benchpress twice your body weight in front of you just to prove he can. or better yet, he flings you over his shoulder easily and brings you to the bedroom to "work on your confidence".

[niuxita21]

Started Las Pelotaris and omg, Itzi and her husband are THE most delightful depiction of gay/lesbian solidarity. All "lesbian married to a man storylines" should be like this, it would do wonders for my blood pressure lmao

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and wings and hope Part 13

Masterpost

Danny had thought hat if he finished with Frostbite early that he would spend a few days in the zone to catch up with some of the other ghosts. He hadn’t wanted to with the wings. It wasn’t that Danny was ashamed of the wings, not from the fact of having different features, but Frostbite had seemed certain that Danny was in a heavily mutable state right then. The more people that knew Phantom with wings, the more likely they were to stick as they cemented in consciousness and identity.

Or something like that.

Danny had a whole stack of reading tucked away in his chest to go through later.

Just wanting time alone, Danny had given himself somewhere between an hour and a day (time was hard to tell in the zone) to sulk among the sparks and dust that were long dead stars before forced himself to get a grip and go home. He was an adult for, well, him sake he guessed. He could deal with this.

The reading set on the left side of the coffee table with a fresh notebook next to it. It wouldn’t do to mix up this work with his actual work, so Danny was sure to pick out one with a green cover from the stash that he kept on hand of his favorite dot patterned paper notebooks. He’d draw a blob ghost or something on it later. A few color pens and a highlighter joined the little pile, set in a battered and chipped Amity Park tourist trap mug.

Sam had gotten it for Danny as a present due to the so hideous it was funny caricature of Phantom on it.

On the right side of the coffee table went a box of protein bars, electrolyte drinks, suck’em candies, and Danny’s well stocked pill container. He moved the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turned the TV on to a playlist of Mythbuster episodes, and made sure he had his favorite blanket in hand before he transformed back.

And fuck that hurt. Pain shot up Danny’s back, radiating up through his shoulders, and shooting along his Lichtenberg scars so intensely that they burned. Danny collapsed inelegantly onto the couch with a defeated whimper.

Maybe it was the wings? Did having a different set of limbs as a ghost cause transfered muscle aches to his human form? He didn’t even have muscles as a ghost, not really, but the mind was a very powerful thing and not even Frostbite was entirely sure of how exactly the two parts of a halfa effected each other.

After the worst of the pain had dulled slightly, Danny managed to toss back his medication (missing doses while Phantom never did him any good) and pulled the candies close enough that he could use them as a distraction for his senses. Slowly the muscle relaxant worked its magic and Danny became a boneless lump. The episodes of Mythbusters idly distracted him as he just let his thoughts drift over what Frostbite had said.

Frostbite was sure that there had to be a reason— or several— that Danny’s form had shifted into a bird and after retained the wings still. Frostbite felt the first step to this all, if Danny was determined to either control or to get an understanding of where this all was going, was to understand the subconscious or symbolic particulars of the change.

The why Frostbite felt was clear: Danny had been without a haunt for too long now. Yes, he accepted, the pollen may have certain accelerated matters (hence the full bird then and only the wings now), but Frostbite was admit that the change wouldn’t have been occurring at this stage if Phantom had still been the protector of Amity Park.

Phantom had a purpose in Amity Park. Phantom was a protector and guardian. That guardianship extended to a very limited range. Now that Amity Park was many, many years behind him and Danny was living in a place already full of its own protectors, the Phantom part of Danny was left adrift which allowed for this new stage of ghosthood.

Why couldn’t his ghost half just be happy with a nice long nap?

“Fuck you, Phantom,” Danny grumbled as he watched a car be vaporized upon impact on the screen. Idly Danny wondered if he could get an object up to that speed if he flew fast enough.

Several hours and several protein bars later, Danny was managing to sit up enough to start going through some of the reading Frostbite had sent and make notes. Two more episodes and delivered Indian food later, Danny scrawled on the top of a fresh page ‘The Subconscious & Symbolic Particulars of Wings’.

Why on earth and beyond did he have wings?

‘Flying’, Danny wrote first and then as many reasons he could think of why he loved flying from the freedom of it to space to the way that it felt to move through a cloud. ‘Freedom’ branched off into movement and escape and getting to become his own person without the weight of Amity. ‘Gravity’ and ‘Identity’ sprawled into transformation and his death and the million of ways that it had changed everything about his life.

It was hard to think about.

Danny turned the page.

‘Wings’. Wings and feathers. Birds. Pigeons and crows and ducks and robins. And Robins. Biblically accurate angels who created the cosmos. Hope. And always hope.

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers — ”

Hope and Robins and Bats.

And always hope.

Was Gotham his haunt?

Was he the thing with feathers?

---

AN: shhhhh I've been writing as my wind down before sleep. Also special prize for @stoiczee. I promise we'll see more batfam next part. Danny just needed some time to react!

[ssahotchnerr]

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

[viking-illustrator]

In light of certain recent topics, I’ve been reminded of the 2017 book ‘Norse Mythology’ by Neil Gaiman. It was a nice telling of the more well-known Norse Myths, but there are LOTS of other options out there for people wanting to learn more about Norse Mythology—you don’t have to support that predator to learn about the gods.

Below is a list of some of the other resources that I’ve used. It’s not exhaustive by any measure—just what I’m familiar with and what comes to mind as I sit here at my desk at work. If anyone else has any additional recommendations, please add them to the list!

Norse Mythology for Smart People - norse-mythology.org

This was where I first started when I wanted to learn about Norse Mythology years ago—I literally just typed “Norse Mythology” into google and clicked the first result like a noob. But this site does a really good job of giving information on a wide range of topics within norse mythology as well as vikings in a general sense—everything from different gods, goddesses, creatures, places, and major stories. It’s a solid encyclopedic source that I would recommend to anyone wanting to get general information on the mythology.

“Norse Mythology: The Unofficial Guide” - https://open.spotify.com/show/7F0tD7bStFIDSVEbsnrxuI?si=8ce8f5ccf3a3417d

If podcasts are your jam, the best by far in my opinion is ‘Norse Mythology: The Unofficial Guide’. At the time of me writing this, there haven’t been any new episodes for 6 months, but there are 37 episodes that are about an hour each & range on a variety of topics from cosmology to specific deities to stories like Ragnarok or specific topics like runes. It does a fantastic job of explaining each topic in a way that is both thorough and accessible & honestly I can’t recommend it enough.

The ‘Northern Myths’ Podcast - https://open.spotify.com/show/7KtSJb5DTLSwmfj1BPYY5v?si=fcd6c297cdc1463d

If you want to go deeper into Old Norse texts like the Eddas or the Havamál, the ‘Northern Myths’ podcast is the place to go for a very deep dive/discussion on these texts. The episodes are long and sometimes get a little dry, but they do read these texts directly and then discuss each passage, so it’s a decent place to go for some deep discussion on some of the pillars of Old Norse texts.

Dr. Jackson Crawford - https://jacksonwcrawford.com/

Most people who get into Norse Mythology/History become familiar with Jackson Crawford pretty quick. He’s an expert specifically in linguistics and the Old Norse language—which includes runes—but he also has extensive knowledge on Old Norse & “Viking” history & culture. He’s previously taught at UCLA, UC Berkeley, and University of Colorado, and now has an extensive Youtube channel. He’s also been a consultant for projects like AC:Valhalla. If you have a question about Old Norse & would like to have a soft-spoken, no-nonsense cowboy in the wilds of Colorado explain it to you, this is your new home.

Again, this is by no means an exhaustive list, but it’s a good start. Please please feel free to reblog with any additional sources you’ve used so we can help new friends learn more!

[kingkaisen]

“𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐘𝐘 . . .”

Eren blinked slowly as he spoke, grinning like an idiot as his glassy eyes darted across his cracked phone screen. “I love you, baby . . . love you-love you so much, baby.”

“Eren,” you frowned, pulling your blanket across your shoulders as you watched him struggle to keep his phone steady. “Are you drunk?”

Relaxing on the couch with several blankets and a bucket of buttery popcorn, you were getting ready to watch a few episodes of your favorite Netflix show when suddenly, your phone rang from an incoming video chat from Eren.

Your boyfriend was at a party — one you didn’t feel well enough to attend — and while he offered to stay at home with you, you told him to go to the gathering and enjoy his Saturday night.

So, seeing his name appear across your phone screen was jarring, and you answered with the assumption that, perhaps, there was an emergency.

But there wasn’t. He was simply drunk, and stupidly in love.

“Baby? Baby, baby?” Eren held his camera so close to his face, you couldn’t see anything except for his eyes. “Miss you so much, okay? Okay, baby?”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” you said with an annoyed tone, but a soft grin appeared across your face. You couldn’t help it.

“Hey, hey, Armin, Armin, Armin, come look,” holding the camera at yet another weird angle for a moment — you could only see his hair, neck, shoulder, and the flashing blue lights in the background — Eren suddenly pulled his best friend beside him.

Armin appeared on your screen with a shy smile and a red solo cup in his hand. Based on the soft shade of red that graced his cheeks, you could tell that at the very least, the blonde-haired guy was tipsy.

“Look, Armin,” Eren slurred, bringing himself and his friend into the frame. “Y/N’s on the-on my screen. Technology’s so fucking cool, man. There goes my baby. That’s my baby right there. That’s my baby.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Armin waved. “Where are you? We miss you.”

“I’m at home. I wasn’t feeling too good, so I couldn’t make it.”

“What’d she say?” Armin blinked slowly, looking over at Eren. It was hard enough to hear you over the loud music, and the alcohol running through his veins certainly didn’t help either.

“Yeah,” Eren responded.

He was clearly out of it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Eren,” you paused. Your boyfriend brought the phone closer to his face when he heard you call his name. “Enjoy the party, okay? I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Noooo,” Eren frowned. “I wanna come home, come get me. I miss . . . I wanna come home, baby.”

“You’re so whiny,” rolling your eyes, you started to get off of the couch.

“Do something . . . ‘bout it when we get home,” with a smirk, Eren said, “come get me, I miss you.”

“I’m on the way,” you smiled down at your phone screen.

But, when you hung up — simply so you could throw on some clothes and focus on driving — your clingy, drunk boyfriend called you right back.

“Eren, I’m trying to get there. You gotta let me hang up, okay?”

“Why don’t you love me?”

“I do love you, but I gotta hang up so I can concentrate.”

“Okay, bye baby.”

The FaceTime call ended once again. But only for 38 seconds.

Eren called you again, and you answered while starting up your car.

“What is it, Eren?” tossing the phone down in the passenger seat, you started to drive. He absolutely wouldn’t let you off of FaceTime anytime soon.

“Nothin’,” Eren smiled cheekily. “Let’s watch a movie when we get home, baby. Are you on the way? I miss you.”

“I’m on the way, I promise.”

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes, Eren, I still love you.”

“Okay,” Eren slurred. “I love you too. Bye, baby.”

Once again, he hung up.

And, once again, he called you back half a minute later.

[serpent-of-hope]

*Propaganda, fun facts, and owl pics under the cut

BARN OWL:

Last year's winner and our current reigning champion, the Barn Owl is back to defend their title! What makes the Barn Owl so popular? Their haunting face? Their screeching cries? Their vast range - nesting on every continent save Antarctica, vastly increasing their chance of being your local owl? Only you can say! And only you can secure the Barn Owl's victory for another year!

PYGMY OWL:

Meet the pygmy, an owl species so small that they are better called owlets! Don't underestimate these hunters, they're locked in a standing war with the songbirds - the owls swallowing the songbirds up and the songbirds retaliating by mobbing the owls in large flocks.

SNOWY OWL:

Known by many names: the polar owl, white owl, and Arctic owl among them, this is the largest North American owl by weight. Most snowy owls are barred with dark brown markings (like the one pictured here). If you see a pure white owl, it's a sure sign you've found a mature male.

EURASIAN EAGLE OWL:

Swooping in to riotous demand, behold the Eurasian Eagle Owl!

To all those mortally offended by the accidental exclusion of the Eurasian Eagle Owl last year, please accept this offering, of a link to Episode 100 of the very excellent podcast Beyond Blathers, bringing you 48 delightful minutes of Eurasian Eagle Owl facts and stories:

SAW-WHET OWL:

The most common owl in North American forests, the saw-whet owl calls through the evening skies with a high-pitched call like a saw being sharpened on a whet stone - hence the name.

SPECTACLED OWL:

The smart-looking Spectacled Owl makes its home in mature rainforest, though they have been known to venture into the desert for food. You'll know these owls by sight, thanks to their distinctive mask, and by sound, making a vibrating call like someone shaking a thin sheet of metal.

SCREECH OWL:

As the name suggests, you'll hear these owls before you see them, and you might think you're being haunted if you do! You might also be able to track them by their owl pellets - regurgitated packets of undigestable bones, fur, and feathers - littered around their nesting sites.

BARRED OWL:

You'll know Barred Owls when you hear them, calling "Who cooks for you? Who? Who? Who cooks for you?" through the dark of night. Compared to other owls, Barred Owls don't migrate. Fossils of this bird dating back 11,000 years have been found in Ontario

GREAT HORNED OWL:

Also called a tiger owl, a winged tiger, or a tiger of the air, these birds are fierce predators, capable of besting other raptors - including the barred owl. They are so strong, that it takes 28lbs of force to open their claws.

BURROWING OWL:

As the name suggests, these owls prefer nesting in the abandoned burrows of other underground-dwelling animals to roosting in the trees! though their nests may be pre-owned, these owls have been known to decorate with bottle caps and bits of foil or paper. By the same grounded preference, you're more likely to spot one running after its prey than flying, making good use of their long legs.

LONG-EARED OWL:

With a permanent expression of someone who just caught got doing something they're not supposed to, these owls are indeed sneaks, opting to claim nests built by others rather than constructing their own. But for all their sneaky ways, Long Eared Owls are among the friendliest, roosting in groups of up to 150 members.

BLACKISTON'S FISH OWL:

Standing at 70cm tall, the Blakiston's Fish Owl reigns in Northeast Asia as the largest living owl on earth. True to their name, they eat mostly fish and have no trouble diving from the skies in pursuit of a trout, pike, salmon.

[sheeezu]

Master Directionary

Short introduction - who?

H e l l o. Very warm welcome to my very messy blog. I used to get upset at the jumbled presentation but I think it represents what I want to feel like - a warm nostalgic home, with old dusty curtains and trinkets scattered around, blankets on the ground.

My name is Umme Hani, (just Hani is perfect). My username is a nickname for my home self- you can refer to me as both.

I've shifted! That's my most remarkable achievement in life. Feel free to bombard me with asks that make me think, even ones that directly challenge me (be respectful, yknow, according to societal norms) I love a good debate.

Shifting wise I shift in and out of reality frequently. I am a very private person in terms of my main reality- home reality, but that is limited to my relationship there, you can at any time ask me how I've world built and other aspects there!

I have been really transparent regarding my shifting experience on here, you can look through my account and hopefully you can relate to my experiences.

I am bipolar. Mine's an unmedicated case. So if I have misbehaved with you in the past, I wish you can forgive me!! That is usually an episode which ranges from depressive to angry maniac. (I'm not apologising to some aholes, so don't get your hopes high, especially terfs.)

Okay? Okay :) +++ I don't ignore asks, dms on purpose, I'll try my best to answer!! Fair warning sometimes I dissappear for weeks on end in pursuit of some spiritual awakening- yes.... that's what it is.

(Btw I love golden, sunsets, homey aesthetics)

READ.

Read before sending an ask

A conclusive list of my asks

If you don't like me, don't agree with my beliefs, just block me, there isn't a single thing you could do to change them.

(Btw, if you're rude, I will send soul sucking demons your way)

I'm not grammatically deaf or weak in English, but I sometimes write in words which make no sense, which happens to ruin the entire meaning of a sentence. Idk why this happens, but please correct me if anything seems off, I really don't mind.

⋆✴︎˚Directionary:⋆✴︎˚｡

Shifting Portal:

1. Shifting methods

✴︎My main shifting method + my shifting journey

✴︎Emergency shifting routine (1 day deadline)

✴︎Shift by channeling

✴︎Energy conversion method

2. Shifting/consciousness theory proofs

✴︎ Shifting proof

✴︎Consciousness theory proof (ask)

✴︎Shifting motivation via proof of consciousness theory (ask)

✴︎Nature of reality/how to prove it to yourself (ask)

3. Shifting tips

✴︎Commonly asked shifting questions

✴︎Embodying one's true nature/self (ask)

✴︎Scripting a DR from scratch (ask)

✴︎Getting rid of intrusive thoughts (ask)

✴︎Letting go of your previous reality and circumstances to shift

4. Shifting storytimes

✴︎Four part short stories (Socialite, hogwarts, dead poets society, home DR)

✴︎Random story 1 (home DR)

✴︎Random story 2 (home DR) (ask)

✴︎Random story 3 (home DR) (ask)

✴︎Random story 4 (home DR) (ask game)

6. Shifting misc.

✴︎Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

✴︎My DR s/o (ask)

✴︎Shifting quote

✴︎My DR list

✴︎Chaotic minishift experience

✴︎Shifting tips from other realites

✴︎Shifting blackboard

✴︎ Non-dualism and shifting

✴︎ What to do if you haven't shifted for years

✴︎ How to shift

✴︎ Shifting posts dump

7. Post which further uncovers my unhinged personality

✴︎An example of an "update" on this blog

✴︎DR self akin to a literal cat

8. Self made subliminals

Shifting:

✴︎Subliminal + google drive link

✴︎Subliminal affirmation list

✴︎The godzilla of (shifting) subliminals

Creator mentality:

Creator mentality + shift subliminal

Void state:

✴︎Void state + creator mentality

This post will be maintained frequently. (hopefully)

because I realized it doesn't matter where I am, I can still maintain my tumblr blog, I suppose I fell in love with this little space I've made for myself.

[paisleypens]

idk if youve done something like this, but a you posted that with y/n and spencer and theyre having fun but theres an old tweet about how spencer likes y/n!! hope this makes sense <3

winter break stirred up some writing motivation, sorry to everyone who has expected more lol. this is a GENIUS idea anon, tysm <3

yeah, i posted that... | spencer agnew x reader

gender neutral reader, second person, embarrassed spence, real tweets from the boys!!

~~~

You were all in for another shoot on the Smosh Pit set, and today was no ordinary one. The much-anticipated episode of "You Posted That?" featuring Spencer Agnew, Shayne Topp, and you, Y/N, had been scheduled for months. You’d joined Smosh not too long ago after building a successful career as a standalone YouTuber, and this was your first time competing on the popular show. Ian Hecox, as the host, was already hyping up the event with his usual mix of sarcasm and self-deprecating humor.

“Welcome to another episode of ‘You Posted That?’” Ian announced dramatically. “Today, we’ve got three contestants who are about to question their own digital footprint. Please welcome Shayne Topp, Spencer Agnew, and Y/N L/N!”

The small audience on set cheered, and you waved nervously. Spencer, seated next to you, leaned over. “You’re going down,” he teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Big words from someone whose tweets are probably all queerbaiting jokes,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Shayne.

“Let’s get started with Round One: ‘You Posted That?’” Ian said with the same exaggerated cadence. “Here’s how it works: we’ll show you one of your posts with a few keywords blanked out. If you can guess the missing words correctly, you get five points. If not, zero points. Got it?”

The first round began with Spencer. The tweet displayed read: “I've had the _____ ____ ___ stuck in my head all day, but only the part where ___ _________ says "___ _ ___ _ ______".” After laughter rang out and a few moments of squirming, it clicked and he guessed “Naked Mole Rat” "Ron Stoppable" and “can I get a booyah” Ian grinned. “Correct!” he exclaimed, as Spencer let out a celebratory “YES!”

Next up was Shayne, whose post read, “______ _____________ > Everything else” Shayne furrowed his brow. “It doesn't fit but... Raisin' Canes?” he guessed, earning howls of laughter when Ian revealed the actual tweet: “Nature Documentaries” Spencer groaned, “Next time just go outside and scream 'I'm smarter than you.”

Then it was your turn. The screen showed, “Me: 'I’m going to bed early tonight.' Also me at 2 AM: Watching _ _____ ______ _ ____ _____” After some thought, you guessed “a woman eating a live squid,” earning you a solid five points. “Weird, but correct!” Ian cheered, as Spencer gave you a playful side-eye. “Real quirky to watch mukbangs,” he muttered. "Look at the year posted!" You laughed back.

The second round of guesses brought even more chaos. Spencer’s next tweet read: “If you _____ ____ _____ while working from home alone, you are a cop” He confidently guessed “wash your hands,” but Ian burst out laughing as he revealed the true answer: “brush your teeth.” Spencer buried his face in his hands as Shayne and you doubled over.

Shayne’s second tweet was equally absurd: “there's no "I" in ____________” He guessed “Unfunny,” but the actual word, “peamupbubber,” had everyone in stitches at the duality.

When it was your turn again, Ian read out: “Why do my plants thrive but not my ______ ______? Asking for a friend.”

"To be clear, this was cute in 2016," and after some embarrassed sighs, you guessed “social life,” earning another five points. Spencer groaned. “Stop being good at this!” he joked.

Then came the final round of tweets. Spencer’s face turned pale as his last post appeared on screen. It read: “If ______ ever gave me a chance, I’d drop everything. Just saying.” The room went quieter, and all eyes turned to him.

“Oh no,” he muttered under his breath.

“Spencer,” Ian said, barely containing his grin. “Care to fill in the blanks?”

Shayne burst out laughing "Dude, don't die on this show of all of them", and you stared at Spencer, your jaw dropping. “Spencer, what is it?” you demanded, though you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up.

“It was a long time ago! Before you joined Smosh! I didn’t think it would ever come up... its Y/N.” Spencer stammered, his face turning bright red.

“Wait, so you had a little crush on me, huh?” you teased, unable to resist.

“Little is an understatement,” Shayne chimed in, wiping away tears of laughter.

“Well,” Ian said, looking at Spencer with a playful smile, “5 points!”

The room erupted into cheers as Spencer laughed it off, but the embarrassment was clear as day. You kept looking at him, trying to give him the hint, but anytime he saw your bright smile, he turned crimson.

The shoot wrapped up fairly quickly after that, with your other posts being just as recognizable to you. Being the rightful winner you walked out happily, nearly skipping back to your desk next to the games pod. You saw Spencer awkwardly approach your desks before you had a chance to sit down.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that. I had no idea that tweet even existed anymore... it was just- I don't know. I just hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," He apologized.

You quickly rebutted, "No no not at all, Spence. It was really sweet actually. I have never told you this but I felt the same way when I first joined."

"Wait really?" Spencer looked up at you with surprise and unbelievable relief.

"Might still feel that way now. If you do too?"

"Yes! I mean, yes, I do. I never got over it."

"Your crush on me?"

"Yeah, I posted that for a reason."

[ghostofwriting]

no one could feel your hurt

R.C x Reader

Warnings: car accident, blood, trauma, mentions of drugs and death. ANGSTY.

Note: This came to me in a dream. Not edited. Good luck.

Word Count: 6,831

Synopsis: Rafe's dad admits him to a hospital, hoping to get through to his son. Rafe discovers that he has a lot more trauma than he initially thought.

I suck at descriptions

Rafe’s been having nightmares for a lot of his life. It started when his mom died. 

They ranged from the accident replaying in his head as he tried to save her and failing over and over to different scenarios where he watched her die every time. 

The former was always first person, it was him trying to save her, trying to get her out of the car, drag her out, douse the flames. The latter was third person, like he was behind glass as he watched helplessly as he in another body tried to save her. 

They come and go, lately they’ve been more incessant. 

He’s in the passenger seat of his dad’s car. He had some sort of episode two nights ago, he did something he can’t quite remember and Ward decided that he needed to go away for a while. A hospital or rehab centre. Somewhere where he could get 24 hour intensive help. 

Rafe doesn’t understand why he can’t just go to a regular therapist, his dad gave him some bullshit excuse about this place being an all in one. He won’t have access to drugs and he’ll have all kinds of therapists. It works better than if he were to go to therapy every two weeks and go home to a stash of pills and cocaine. 

The one thing he really hates is that he’ll be away from his girl for eight weeks. His dad thinks that she’s bad for him because he always wants to be with her. He says it’s like he’s addicted to her, like she’s one of the drugs. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing. She’s perfect, she helps him, she listens to him. She’s the only person that understands him. She disagrees with the drugs and he’s tired of disappointing her. He had been clean for a while but he happened to relapse for some reason. The nightmares probably. 

He’s going to miss her. He hasn’t gone without seeing her for more than a few days since they started dating. 

Rafe looks at the horizon, the music coming from the radio drowned out by the wind coming through his open window. The air feels sharp on his face. It’s crisp like tiny little needles hitting his cheeks.. The leaves are starting to turn orange and yellow, falling to the grass. 

The sun shining tricks his brain. His whole life he’s slipped into a funk every time the weather changes to the colder months. This time is no different but he doesn’t feel as awful. 

He wishes he were back home, taking the boat out, his girl on his lap as he drives the boat, laughing as he tries to steer with her in the way. She’s the only good thing in his life. She’s the only thing that makes him happy. The only person he gets out of bed for. His dad might be right. But is that so bad? He lives a normal life. She just helps him get through it. 

Ward said that if he does well, he’ll get visitation rights. He doesn’t think his dad is thinking about letting him have his girl visit and mostly talking about himself or his sisters coming out here, but he really hopes the doctors will allow him to have her over. Even if it’s for five minutes. 

He just needs to get through this and he’ll get to see her again. He needs to prove to his dad that he can be without her for a little bit. And the drugs forever. 

When they drive up to the building, he gets a weird feeling in his gut. It’s a huge white brick building with rows of windows. It looks old but well kept. The yard is big, it’s landscaped really nicely, there’s rose bushes, and a fountain. It looks like patients are walking around with nurses and maybe even visitors, he sees some people with badges hanging off lanyards around their necks but he’s too far to read. 

The feeling in his stomach intensifies when he sees someone sitting by a tree and it looks to him like the man is talking to himself. 

Where the fuck is he?

“Dad, are you sure this is the right place?” His dad stops the car just short of the stairs that lead to huge wooden doors. 

“Yes, Rafe, this is where you’ll be staying for a little while. It has great reviews.” He nods at his dad and unbuckles his seatbelt. His dad gets out of the car and runs over to the passenger side, opening the door for Rafe. 

“Ready?” He shakes his head 

“It’ll be okay son. You’ll be okay.” Rafe takes a deep breath and swings one leg after the other out of the car. As soon as both his feet touch the gravel, the doors to the building open and two nurses step out. Waving them up. 

He’s slow to make his way up the stairs, waiting for his dad to grab his bag. He feels his hands get clammy. He feels uneasy. He doesn’t want to be here. 

Once they both make it inside, one of the nurses takes his bag from his dad, rummaging through it. Rafe frowns but doesn’t protest. The other nurse smiles and asks for his phone. 

“Can’t I keep it?” He barely finds his voice. 

“I need to be able to talk to her.” The nurse looks to his dad, a look he doesn’t recognize passing through his face but he steals himself quickly. Rafe looks at his dad. 

“Dad?” Ward turns away from the nurse.

“It’s the rules, kiddo.” Rafe sighs and hands his phone over. His hand shakes slightly. He blinks slowly, his head hurts, he feels sore. Something in his back. 

A lady in a white doctor’s coat walks in, a smile on her face. 

“Hi Rafe, my name is Dr. Jean. I will be helping you throughout your stay here.” She says, offering him her hand. He wipes his palm on his sweats before accepting it. 

“Hi.” Is all he says. 

“I’ve talked to your dad and together we have come up with a plan that would best help you. You obviously have input in this if you feel like something doesn’t work, we can talk.” Rafe just nods again. 

“You and I will have one on one therapy every week, you will have group therapy with some other patients, and we will try different methods to treat your condition.” She finishes, the smile never leaving her face. 

“My condition?” He asks and turns to his dad again. 

“Your grief, son.” Ward says, giving him a tight lipped smile, like he’s holding something back. Like he has a secret. 

“Okay.” How much does he really have to participate? It’s not like they can keep him here forever. 

“I heard you had a birthday recently.” Dr. Jean says

“Yeah.” He doesn’t want to have small talk, he just wants to go wherever they’re going to keep him and get this day over with.

“How old are you?” Her smile scares him, he decides. 

“18.” He laughs at the irony. He’s an adult but because his dad registered him for this two weeks before his birthday, he gets a say when Rafe leaves. He doesn’t want to fight it either. He’s so tired.

“And how is 18 treating you?” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s trying too hard. 

“Well, my dad is bringing me to this weird ass place so it’s not off to a great start.”

“You’ll heal here.” She says before clicking a button that opens the doors into the main facility. 

Heal?

“You’ll be okay, son.” His dad hugs him tight, and he hears the emotion in his voice. 

“Yeah.” Rafe hugs him back. He wants to go home. Wants to see her. 

“I’ll see you soon.” His dad lets him go and the nurses lead him in through the doors. 

He steps into the hallway as the doors close behind him. He looks at his dad through the small window as he turns away and walks out of the hospital. Rafe looks forward. Everything is sterile and white and borning. Most of the doors are closed, but as he walks by them he sees that they are offices, each one belonging to a doctor, their name on the door. At the end of the long hallway, there are what seems to be payphones. Three of them. He wonders why they’re there and if they even work. 

“This way.” the nurse says, guiding him to the left of the hallway and down some stairs. 

He really doesn’t want to be here. 

The first few nights are restless, and he just misses her and he wants to talk to her and see her and feel her and hold her, but he can’t. His dad has him locked up in the middle of nowhere because apparently it’s not normal to be codependent of your girlfriend. 

How can he not be? She’s the only person that gets him, the only one that understands him and loves him in spite and because of all his flaws. She looks at him and doesn’t see a broken man beyond fixing.  She sees the person that she loves. The man that he is and the man that he could be. She sees all his potential and she never leaves. 

Everybody leaves. Everyone but her. 

He doesn’t get to see Dr. Jean right away. He doesn’t mind, she’s creepy. He has to go to group therapy first and he’s not at all interested in participating. Every time it lands on him to speak, he passes. The therapist doesn’t force him to speak, just says “maybe next time” and moves on. 

The nurses tell him that Dr. Jean would be receiving an evaluation of how he behaves in group and in the general population, and that it would be a good idea to participate. “Participation is how you get visitation!” She had said cheerfully. 

The first few sessions he just listens to everyone else. Listening to how broken all these people are, they talk about why they’re here and how sad they are, and why they abuse substances. He still doesn't talk. He doesn’t want to talk to them, he just wants to talk to her. He’s not broken for being in love, no matter what his dad thinks. 

He has a nightmare one night. He hears a loud screeching and metal scratching and something else he can’t quite make out. He tries to listen for it, tries to pinpoint what it is but he can’t figure it out. There’s bright lights and it’s fast and there’s banging but he can’t see anything. It’s like his brain has blocked it all out. 

When he wakes up in the morning, he doesn’t quite remember it. That’s usually how it goes. In the nightmares with his mom, he remembers trying to save her but never from what, he feels that it’s different every time but he couldn't tell anyone how. He can’t describe it. 

His session with Dr. Jean sneaks up on him. She asks him how it’s going and he shrugs, not really having anything to say. 

She asks him if he’s enjoyed group, and he nods. 

“You should participate next time.” He looks at his hands, the pain in his back starting back up. 

“I don’t feel like it.” He says and he feels like a defiant five year old. He just wants to go home and it hasn’t even been a week. 

“I can’t give you visitation if you don’t share.” She looks at him expectantly, “how about you start here. With me.” He sighs and unclasps his hands. 

He tells her about his nightmare, about how they happen often and how he can never remember them. He tells her the bits and pieces of what he does remember but it’s not coherent. 

“Why do you think you’re here, Rafe?” He looks at her like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

“My dad wants me to be here.” 

“Why does your dad want you to be here?”

“Because he doesn’t want me doing drugs and being dependent on my girlfriend. He wants me to be normal.” She hums and writes something down in the notebook she’s holding. 

“You talk a lot about your girlfriend. Tell me about her.”

“Yeah,” he smiles softly when he thinks about her. “She’s everything. She’s perfect. She’s the love of my life. She sees me, she accepts me for who I am and loves me for it. I’ve never known love like that. Unconditional love. Not until her.” Doctor Jean scribbles something else down in her notebook. 

“That’s a wonderful feeling. I understand why you would have such a hard time being away from it.” He nods. 

“Do you remember what happened? The accident?” He furrows his brows at the change in subject. 

“Yeah, my mom, yeah I remember the car accident.” More scribbling in her notebook, her eyes snap back and forth from his face to the page.

“How do you cope with that?”

“I mean, I was young so it was hard. I shut down and shut everyone out. I was a very sad kid but then my girl helped me through it.” When Doctor Jean doesn’t say anything he continues.

“She gave me a safe space to talk about it, she listened to me and held me as I finally let myself feel everything. She never lets me bottle anything up. She says it’s bad for me so I talk to her about it. I talk to her about everything. She’s the only person I do that with because she doesn’t judge me for my feelings.”

“That’s wonderful.” Doctor Jean says. 

He spends the rest of the session talking about her. 

He decides he’ll participate in group so he can see her next visitation day. 

The days go by slowly, just as you think they would when he doesn't have anything to do but go to therapy and stare out a window. He doesn’t talk to any of the other patients. He has enough trauma he doesn’t need theirs too. 

He forces himself to talk about his mom in group and it doesn’t feel good at all so he stops for the next few sessions which bites him in the ass. 

He’s sitting across from Doctor Jean, her notebook in her lap as she gives him her fake smile. 

“Have you talked to her?” 

“What?” He asks, confused. 

“Your girlfriend.”

“I can’t talk to her, I don’t have a phone, you took my phone.” He says frowning, “I wish I could talk to her. Do you think you could let her come visit me next week?” He bites the inside of his cheek. Doctor Jean sighs 

“I would like you to participate in group more and then we’ll talk about that. I don’t think you’re ready.”

“I don’t think that;s fair.” He replies 

“Participate in group, eat your food, don’t fight the nurses on your meds and we’ll see if you can handle the next steps.”

“I talked about my mom though.” 

“That’s not what I’m looking for.” He leaves her office feeling shittier than when he arrived. 

After therapy with Doctor Jean, he goes down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. He hates the food here. Today it’s some sloppy wet looking mashed potatoes and bone dry unseasoned meat. For such a fancy place and for how much money his dad is probably paying to have him here, there should be good food.

Did Jean ever think that maybe he’s not eating because the food sucks and not because he’s depressed? Maybe he would do better if they let him talk to his girl. For five minutes. Just five minutes, that’s all he needs. 

He should do what doctor Jean says and just participate more. He should eat his meals and suck it up and then they’ll let her come visit. He needs to see her. He misses her, her hair, her laugh, her soft skin, her eyes, the way she smiles at him, the way she looks at him like he is her whole world. He misses her. 

He starts participating in group a little too eagerly. He talks about his life, and what he’s been going through since his mom died. He talks about how his girl makes him feel, how he feels the need to hold on to her as tight as possible because she’s the only person that understands him. 

He talks and talks and talks so much that he knows this is the week he sees her. 

When he goes into the session with doctor Jean and she says that he can’t see her because of some bullsit reason, he snaps. 

He storms out of his session and back to his room. The next day he doesn’t leave his room. They can’t make him leave either, they come in and try to talk to him but he doesn’t move from his bed. He just wants to talk to her. Can’t they see that he misses her? That he needs her?

He doesn’t have a way to communicate with her so maybe if he goes on a hunger strike and doesn’t participate in group or go to therapy, they’ll let her visit. 

Five minutes. That’s all he needs. 

He needs to talk to her, to hear her voice. To hold her. 

Another nurse comes in to offer him food and he tells her that he won’t eat until he gets to at least talk to his girlfriend. He doesn’t even feel hungry anymore, he just feels sad. 

It’s been three weeks without her. The last time he saw her was the day his dad drove him up to the hospital. He told her it was better if she didn’t come with because it would make it that much harder on him. He kissed her goodbye and left her sitting on the edge of his bed in his room. 

He doesn’t know if this will work. Doctor Jean could decide that since he’s pulling this stunt, he won’t get to see his girl for the remainder of the time that he’s here. If that’s the case he’ll just do the bare minimum for the next five weeks and when he gets picked up, he’ll ask his dad to bring her with him. His dad will allow it because at least he’ll be clean from the drugs. He'll be happy that the drugs are flushed from his system. Not her though, never her. 

He wakes up from another nightmare, he’s sweating, his hands are shaking, and tears are streaming down his face. They’re getting more intense. He needs her. 

He looks at the clock on the wall, it’s two in the morning. He rubs his eyes and slides off his bed. He knows everyone is in their rooms now and that there aren’t many nurses at night. He slowly opens the door of his room and peaks out into the dimly lit hallway. 

He’s thinking about those phones he saw when he first arrived. He quickly and quietly makes his way through the hallway and up the few steps to the entrance. He looks to his right and sees the doors that lead to where he had last seen his dad. He ducks so that the person at the front desk doesn’t see him. All the office doors are closed so he moves to his left towards the end of the hall where the phones are. 

Once he reaches the phones, he chooses the one that is least illuminated by the hall light and crouches down, pulling the phone down with him. His ears ring and his hands are still shaking. He puts the receiver to his ear and dials her number. 

He hears a click on the other end and a breath. 

“Hello?” he says 

“Rafe?” She’s confused but her sweet voice fills the speaker and he closes his eyes to savor the moment. 

“Hi baby.” he hums. He has tears in his eyes again because he misses her so much and he just wants to see her but he can’t because his dad hates him.

“Hi sweetie.” She says, she sounds sleepy.

“I woke you up. I’m sorry. I just needed to talk to you. I needed to hear your voice.” 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” She giggles. 

She asks him how he is and he tells her the truth. That he misses her and that he wishes he could see her and be with her. He asks her where she is and what she’s doing and she tells him that she misses him too and that she loves him and is sorry. 

“Why are you sorry, baby?” He asks her, confusion lacing his tone. 

“I’m sorry.” She says again 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, we’ll be together again soon.” 

“You’ll have to wait.” She says and his confusion just increases. He doesn’t know what she means by that. He’s about to ask when he sees a nurse headed his way.

“Shit, baby I gotta go. I love you. I love you so much.” She tells him she loves him too and he  hurriedly stands up  putting the phone back on its stand. 

“What are you doing? Why are you by the phones?” The nurse grabs his arm and starts pulling him towards where he had come from. 

“I just needed to talk to her okay?” He tells her and the grip on his arm loosens. A wave of something crosses her face but she shakes it off and keeps dragging him, 

“Let’s get you back to your room.” 

“Can I see her?” He asks desperately “please please can you bring her? Can I see her? I just need to see her. Just for five minutes. Just let me see her for five minutes.” He’s begging and he feels like he might start crying again. 

The nurse looks at him sympathetically and doesn’t say anything. She just silently guides him to his room where he cries himself to sleep. He’s shaking and he’s so cold. He wonders if this is what detoxing feels like. 

The next day he’s so emotionally exhausted he doesn’t want to get up but after the phone call he really wants to see his girl so he decides he’s going to put in an effort. 

This fourth week he’s going to do so well that doctor Jean will allow him to see his girl. 

He goes to breakfast and finishes everything off his plate, he takes his medication, and he makes his way to group. He talks in group and even answers questions from the lead therapist and some of the patients. The rest of the week is the same, he eats his food, he takes his meds, he participates in group. By the time his session with doctor Jean comes by he knows she won’t be able to stay no. 

He sits across from her, her legs crossed, her notebook balanced on one knee, she’s happy with his progress this week, she tells him as much. 

“I think you’re doing great, Rafe. Thank you for coming and thank you for sharing.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to see her next week?”

“Rafe-” he cuts her off

“Please, I've been to everything, I’ve been feeling better. I would really like to see her.”

“We should really talk about some things-” She’s cut off again but not by him, by her alarm that rings to signify that the session is over. 

“Please think about it, doctor Jean.” He says standing up. 

He leaves her office and goes about his day. He can’t wait to be out of this place. It’s not great. 

He’s started noticing how, for lack of better word, weird, some of these people are. As he walks past the cafeteria he sees a guy that seems to not be doing so well. He remembers seeing him by the tree when he first arrived. 

A lot of the people here seem to not be doing too well. 

In group the next day, he listens as a new guy talks about something in his head and how there’s something wrong with him, how he’s delirious or delusional or something to do with his imagination. He doesn’t know nor does he care. He’s just so tired of being here. 

He has another nightmare. The screeching metal, the fire, it’s hot, he can feel it this time. It’s getting closer, he can see more. He can smell it too, something is on fire. It’s starting to bother him a lot more. Before he could only see the blinding light but now if he turns to one end he just sees darkness, the other side has the fire and the blinding light and something else. He can’t make it out and he can’t make out the other sound. He wishes he could see everything. It’s driving him mad. He just wants to sleep. 

He’s in his room reading a book when a nurse he’s never seen before tells him to come with him. Rafe nods and follows the nurse. He looks at the walls, how they go from white to yellow to a salmon. He realizes he’s never been in this part of the hospital. 

He pushes open the doors in front of him and there’s a room full of tables, almost like you would imagine a prison visitation room to look like. 

And she’s there. And he feels like he can breathe. He looks back to see if the nurse will say anything but he’s not standing there. 

She’s here and she’s beautiful and she’s dressed all in white. She matches the freaking hospital. 

“Why are you wearing white?” He asks, sitting across from her, a huge smile on his face. 

“Why not?” She laughs, he feels her fingers ghosting over his. 

“We match.” he laughs with her. 

“We do.” 

“I miss you.” He tells her. 

“I know you do.” and he’s so distracted by how close she is and her pretty eyes and her flowy hair. She’s angelic. He misses her so much. 

“I love you.” and a smile breaks out onto her face again. 

“I know you do.” Their faces are so close now that he feels her lips move against his cheek as she speaks. It’s a stupid thing they do.

When they first started dating he was too shy to say how he felt about her. I know you do, became their way of expressing it and it soon morphed into other phrases they used. 

“I’ll come be with you soon.” he smells her hair, something different, did she change her perfume? 

“I know you will.” Their fingers are barely touching still. 

There’s another guy sitting in the room and he clears his throat and he jumps away from her. He doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t know if he can touch her or not. Maybe it is like a prison. 

“So how have you been?” He asks.

“I’ve been better.” It’s awkward. They’re being watched and he hates it. 

“You?” He wants to run the pads of his fingers over her face and softly trace every part of it. 

 “I miss home.” She nods

“Of course.”

 “I miss you. You’re home.” She smiles a soft but sad smile at that. 

“Yeah.” He wants to ask about her perfume. He doesn’t touch her hair because the guy is still looking at them. 

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

“What?” She pulls a strand towards her. 

“Your hair was wrong with it?”

“ I don’t know. Nothing.” She laughs

“Weird.” She’s so pretty.

“You’re weird.” He’s so stupid when it comes to her. Never knows what to say. He doesn’t know how he got her.

“I know I am.” Her eyes shift to the gut across the room from them and then back to him.

“Did you eat today?”

“ I did.” He nods. 

“good job, baby.” His heart flutters at her praise. 

“You’ve been doing well. You’re participating in group.” She sniffs her hair and he smirks.

“I’m trying.” He looks at her hands, their fingertips a hair from touching, “how do you know about that?”

“I have my ways.” 

“You talk to my doctor?”

“I guess.” She shrugs 

“Well, yeah, I’m participating in group and I go to therapy”

“Have you talked about me yet?”

“A little bit,” he confesses. 

“What about?”

“How obsessed I am with you and how much I love you and how you’re the only person who sees me and that I miss you so much that I find it hard to be without you.”

“Not for much longer, right?” She bites her lip anxiously and he wants to kiss her so bad.

“Not for much longer.” He agrees.

He feels the guy burning holes into him and he turns to look at him at the same time as she does. 

“Why is he looking at you like that?” 

“I don’t think he’s looking at me like that.” She says, “I think he’s looking at you.”

“Do you think he thinks I’m weird?” He asks her taking his eyes off the man and putting them back on her.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

He laughs. He laughs because she is everything and she’s funny and she makes everything worth it. She makes everything better. He misses that. 

“So they only gave me like ten minutes.” He sighs, knowing that means she has to go.

“It felt like five.” He tells her “every moment with you is fleeting.”

“I’ll see you soon.” She says getting up off the chair, the nurse comes in the room and he turns to look at him and then back to his girl and she’s gone, the door swinging from where she left.

“Wha-let’s go.” The nurse says. He looks out of breath. Like he’s been running laps. 

The guy across the room is still looking at him and it fucking creeps him out. Whatever. He’s happier now. Only a few more weeks here and he can leave and be with her all the time. 

He has his session with doctor Jean the next day and he walks in with a new pep in his step. 

“Thank you for letting me see her.” Doctor Jean looks a little confused but then it clicks, she probably gets all her patients jumbled. 

“Oh yes.” she says with a nod. 

“She said that you talked to her about group.”

“Group. Yes, how did that go?”

“Good. It went well. She was acting a little strange but one of the other guys was watching us the whole time and I think this environment just creeps her out. I mean it creeps me out. It’s not the most comfortable. But it’s okay. I at least got to see her and I’ll be out in a few weeks.” Doctor Jean scribbles in her notebook and then puts it down, sighing. 

“Have you considered you might have to stay a bit longer?” That takes him by surprise. He's doing great. He’s doing everything they tell him to do.

“No, why would I stay longer? I’m only supposed to be here for eight weeks. I don’t want to stay longer. You can’t make me stay longer.” He’s panicking slightly. He doesn’t want to be without her any more than he has been.

“Ultimately, it’s up to you.” Doctor Jean starts, “You’re an adult, but I know you take your dad’s recommendation strongly and he is suggesting that you stay a little longer.” His dad?

“No, no I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna stay a little longer. I don’t wanna stay at all. If I could go home right now that would be great.” His breathing gets faster, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

Why does his dad want to keep him locked up?

“I wanna go home right now. I wanna go see my girl. I don’t wanna be here. You can’t make me stay here.”

“What if I told you that I don’t think you’ll be ready to leave in two weeks?” Rafe shakes his head. 

“I am though. I’m ready to leave. I don’t want to be here. Why do I need to be here?”

“Breathe, Rafe.” Doctor Jean says and gets up to walk over to him. Rafe gets up then too. Not wanting to be there anymore. 

“I wanna go to my room. I don’t wanna stay here.”

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll see you next time.” She says as he all but runs out of her office. 

It doesn’t get better. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to talk to his dad and convince him that he doesn’t need to be here anymore. He wants his dad to see how well he’s doing. He’ll convince him. 

He lets the days pass by, he eats his food, he takes his meds, he goes to group. On Thursday he goes to therapy. He doesn’t get a visit. He’s not allowed another one not yet. He panicked a little too much, his codependence shined through and doctor Jean thinks it best if they hold off. They don’t talk about extending his stay. Instead there’s a knock on the door. Doctor Jean gets off her chair and walks to open the door. 

He’s surprised when his dad walks in. There’s not supposed to be a visit from anyone. He’s not earned it. 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Hey, buddy.” His dad says sitting next to him. 

“Are you here to get me to stay longer because I don’t need that okay? I need to get back home to be with my girl and-and my friends. I don’t, I don’t wanna be here, please, dad.” He’s shaking again, his eyes sting. He wants to go home. His dad closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face.

“Rafe, you are not okay.”

“I’m fine. I’m taking my meds and I’m-I’m not as sad. I wanna go home. I’ll do better. I won’t- I’ll spend time with everybody okay? I’ll go outside and-please. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He almost growls at that.

“Yes, I am. How do you know I’m not fine?” He all but screams the question at his dad.

“Everyone calm down.” Doctor Jean interrupts and she shares a look with his dad. Ward nods. 

“I wanna go home.” He repeats.

“Your dad thinks that it would just be better if you stayed a little longer.”

“No, why would I stay?” Doctor Jean looks at his dad again as if asking for some sort of permission. 

“Who were you talking to on the payphone?” Doctor Jean says abruptly. His brows furrow.

“My girlfriend, I just wanted to talk to her. I needed to hear her voice for like five minutes.” Doctor Jean nods and his dad just listens, a blank look on his face.

“And who came to visit you?”

“My girl” She knows this. There’s something heavy in his stomach, that same uneasy feeling he had the first day he got here.

“What are you saying right now? Why are you asking me this?”

Doctor Jean takes a deep breath before the next words leave her mouth. 

“The payphones don’t work.” The feeling in his stomach grows

“No, they do. I talked to her.” His palms start to sweat. The feeling spreads from his stomach to his chest. 

“You didn’t have change and even if you did, they don’t work. They are not connected. This building is old. They don’t work, you didn’t talk to anyone.” Rafe shakes his head, swallowing the lump that’s growing in his throat. 

Doctor Jean is making him feel crazy. He did talk to her. He picked up that phone and he dialed her number and she said hello. Did he say hello? He talked to her. 

“I talked to her and she came to visit me.” He’s adamant about this, the nurse took me to the visiting room.”

“Rafe, you took yourself  to the visiting room, there was no nurse.” He shakes his head, his hands feel numb. 

“Nurse Shaw was taking you to lunch and you disappeared on his watch. Mr. Roby saw you in the visiting room.”

“Yeah, he was staring at me, weird. Me and my girl, we didn't know why.

“you didn’t see her. She did not come for a visit.” She’s lying. She was right in front of him and he felt her. Did he? Did he touch her?

“But you met her and talked to her about group. I remember she mentioned that because she was happy I was going.” His voice is cracking, he can barely get through what he wants to say. He can barely think.

“I never met her. I couldn’t have met her.” Doctor Jean insists.

“but she was here.” Why are they doing this to him?

“She’s never been here and you’ve not talked to her.”

“What are you saying? Why not? I remember- I remember-I remember she was here. What are you saying?” He’s stumbling through his words, his chest is heaving. The feeling that started in his stomach, all over his body now.

His head is pounding. It feels like his eyes are gonna pop out. His ears are ringing. He doesn’t know what they’re saying. They’re making him feel crazy, making him feel insane. 

“Do you remember the car accident?” 

“Yeah, with my mom.” 

“No buddy.” His dad speaks up for the first time since doctor Jean started interrogating him. He looks at his dad.

“What?”

“The car accident last fall. With the semi truck and your jeep. Remember the bright light you talk about? The fire?” His nightmares.

“What are you talking about? What accident in the fall?” 

“You were driving and the truck blew a stop sign and crashed into her side-” He feels sick.

“Stop.” he can’t breathe he can’t breathe. 

He can hear the screeching of the metal, can smell the fire, can see the lights. Everything.

“No stop, no, no accident happened.” He says frantically and he gets up to go stand by the window, to look at the fields surrounding the hospital.

“This is a trauma response. You are blocking the accident out because you don’t want to remember the loss and the pain and the hurt in your heart. It’s your brain trying to protect itself from the trauma, from everything that you’ve been through.” He’s shaking his head at doctor Jean’s words.

“What are you talking about? Why are you bringing that up? I don’t wanna talk about that. It’s fine. I’m fine and everything’s fine.” He yells. 

“The payphones don’t work. You were alone in the visiting room. What do you think that means?”

“I don’t get it. I don’t understand.” He looks at his dad and Ward looks at him with such sadness. A sadness he hasn’t seen in him since his mom died. Like he’s lost Rafe too.

Rafe and the sounds of metal screeching against pavement. The car flipping and sliding. And something else. 

Rafe! Rafe! Rafe! Her screams. Screeching metal and the sound of her screams as the truck collided into them and sent them flying. Screeching metal crushing and her screams of pain and she’s crying and he’s trying to get to her and he can’t reach her because she’s crushed between two cars and he’s trapped upside down hanging from his seatbelt.

The truck's headlights blinding him, the ignition on fire, her hair, gasoline, burning. And they’re stuck. 

The sound of footsteps and his screams to help her first, to get her out. 

Please! Please!

He remembers the feeling as they cut him out and the pain of the heat from the fire. He remembers crawling to her, holding her hand. Crying. 

“Ambulance is 5 minutes out! 10 minutes tops.”

I love you

Just five more minutes, baby please. 

I love you

I know you do

I’ll miss you

Stop

I’ll miss you

I know you will

Rafe

Just hold on, just five minutes okay?

I don’t-

You’ll have to wait

Not for much longer though, right?

Not for much longer. Five minutes. Just five

I love you.

Just give me five minutes

Rafe go

No. I love you. 

The fire, the blood, her grip on his hand loosening.

We’ll be together again soon.

I need five more minutes with her. five more just five more

I would give anything for five more minutes. Please! Please!

Rafe 

Sweetie

“No!” He screams at both his dad and doctor Jean.

He blocked everything out. How was that possible? How did he block everything out? 

“She’s at home, my dad- right I talked to her. She’s okay right?” His shoulders start shaking as sobs of grief release like a tsunami through his body. His dad rushes to him as he collapses into him.

“I talked to her dad? Dad please.”

“She died, Rafe.” 

[keferon]

You all flatter me! Now I am all pumped up to continue on the TF mecha au train. Ratchlock has me in a chokehold. You can't compliment me like that, It goes to my head! I haven't writen anything in like 12 years 😭. Also Yes yes to all the angst. I thrive on it more then the fluffy moments. Jazz and Deadlock/Drift are lining up nicely for a possible meeting. But first Deadlock WILL bath in blood! Wanna see?

****

Ratchet will not let Deadlock follow him around. Nope. Instead he keeps Deadlock on strict bed rest /he's learning human terms in his free time/ with the oh so sweet promise to weld him to the wall if he doesn't listen. He knows better to not test Ratchet, he'd do it no hesitation. Deadlocks fangs and claws only cause a raised eyebrow and wave of a slipper near well... anywhere in Ratchet's swating or throwing range. Since both of them honor their word/glyphic, they made a deal that if Ratchet comes home on time then in return Deadlock will be on his best behavior.

They use every extra moment together to learn, heal, and plot together. Deadlock's wounds are fully healed by now. He is ready to be the guardian knight he vowed to be for Ratchet. Ratchet's knuckles still ache which makes his hands shaky at times, especially when cold, but his squishy perseveres like a true warrior. Deadlock has learned that revving his engine to build up heat and letting Ratchet rest against his chassis helps with those trimmering aches the bioengineer tries to rub out.

He wants to give any comfort he can to Ratchet while he's working in that cursed lab with those ungreatful sacks of slags. He has photos of each one of those fraggers saved in his proccesor. The list only grows the longer they wait to leave. If he can work around Ratchet somehow, he'll cross them off at some point with a deep satisfaction while doing it. Ratchet has been as sly as a turbofox. He's been sidestepping, talking around, and out ranting the higher ups for a while. Deadlock is so proud of him for not backing down or falling silent. Right now Deadlock has the tv playing a sitcom while tinkering with his long range blaster. His audial fins flick as the door opens and closes. Ratchet looks at the show while shrugs his winter coat off, "So has Sam confessed his undying love to the ice cream vender Carly yet?" Ratchet asks walking over to the lazy-e-boy chair.

Deadlock reaches out and taps his back before he can sit down. "Refuel first." He reminds him before going back to tightening some wires. He smiles at the grumble and is pleased when Ratchet listens to him for once and heads to the kitchen, "and no the episode ended with him getting hit by a waste disposal truck. Now it's a filler episode. Jack is trying to get out of going to an Amica Endura's beach party. He is playing up a illness called the pox."

Ratchet comes back with a warm plate of food. Deadlock nods pleased with the portion. Ratchet rolls his eyes and sits down, "They did that same plot with Raphael four seasons ago." He grumbles and bats at Deadlocks claw when he tries to ruffle his hair, "If they drag this out for three episodes like last time I am popping in a different show." Both are content, they banter and complain about the show while Ratchet eats. When Ratchet reclines his lazy-e-boy chair Deadlock puts his weapon away, "They are transferring some of us to a different base in the morning. You know First Aid. They are putting him on a transport to the sister base north east of here. Called the Alpha Blade Strikers."

Deadlock tilts his helm, "That's the one that was visiting here? The commander of that base is the one you knocked out for slagging you off right? You mentioned the base being cursed." He asks leaning forward a bit, his servos tingling for revenge.

"Yes, same place and person. Don't believe in any of that cursed stuff but a lot of talk does go around about it. Mostly one pacific mecha being the main cursed object. First Aid was stressed to tears about being transferred. He had just gotten comfortable here with his friends. I feel a bit bad for the kid." Ratchet mumbles rubbing his face with his unbandged hand.

Deadlock gives a soft smile, "From what you've told me, he keeps his helm down. I am sure he will find friends or leave when he can. But if you are worried I am not opposed to taking him with us."

"We do not kidnap people, Drift. He wouldn't want to come along anyways. He wants to 'do his part for human kind'. Besides it takes him a while to get use to change and the possibility that we may be hunted down once we leave would most likely send him into cardiac arrest." Ratchet tilts his head back gives Deadlock a stern look, "On the topic of leaving we'll need to do that sooner then planned. Something isn't right, I don't like how hyper focused Pharma has gotten with quintessons corpses. Now he is showing intrest in you. He wants to know how I programmed a mecha to be powered by an AI system so flawlessly. It's driving him up a wall to not know. You know, since a mecha has never moved around without a pilot and can not talk. He keeps begging the higher ups to let him 'partner up with me' or let him take over the 'project' since I am just 'playing around with you'."

"Right fine. No kidnapping the youngling. But do not assume we will be the ones being hunted." Deadlock hums amused but turns serious when Pharma is brought up. That name is at the top of his 'don't let Ratchet catch on' splat list, "But me being 'imprinted' on you is keeping them from letting him get his quintessons gut covered servos... Err hands sorry, on me."

Ratchet nods rubbing his face again with a tired sigh, "I made certain they know you'll attack anything that isn't me." Deadlock can tell Ratchet is fighting a yawn. He lays down behind the chair and rumbles his engine. Ratchet's lips twitch with a smile hearing how smooth it's running now, "Pharma has never been a good listener though. Just be on guard okay kid... he's ploting something." Ratchet mumbles soaking up the heat coming from behind him. He tilts his head back against the head rest looking up at Deadlocks handsome, smug, sharp fanged grin, "He tries touching you, you can kill him. Don't let him into your system. I fear what he'd do. Probably make you even more loony and unbearable." The bioengineer yawns his voice full of fondness that makes Deadlock's spark sing.

Deadlock purrs as he gently pets Ratchet's head with a, claw retracted, digit. Ratchet's eyes grow heavy missing the most feral, down right demonic, energon hungry look Deadlock has at the permission to off Pharma, "He will not harm me. But I can tell he has worn on you today. You are more drained then grumpy, your insults are lacking any heat. Recharge Ratchet. I will reconfigure our supplies and time line while you regain your strenght. Then I'll show you in the morning. You can edit it while you fuel." He chuckles as Ratchet grumbles and mumbles at him. His squishy can't fight the cozy warmth and soothing pets. Deadlock's humming engine makes a familiar white noise that has grown to mean safe to Ratchet. In no time Ratchet is out cold. Picking up a blanket with a careful pinch he lays it on top of Ratchet and follows him into recharge.

-- --

They are so close to leaving. They have a place picked out and a time. Their supplies are packed and hidden away with a close friend of Ratchet's. The thing still keeping them on base is Ratchet's need to clear out all of his research. He doesn't want anyone to have anything of his, to have a chance to twist it into something that would cause more harm and death. It's been a tedious process but Ratchet has been deleting his work bit by bit so no one catches on.

Four days before their chosen leave date Ratchet walks into his lab only to be escorted to a debriefing room. One he has have never been to. Deep under the base. He had tried getting anyone to speak up about what's happening but the escorts, six of them for fuck sakes, don't even look at him. His gut instinct is screaming DANGER the deeper they go. His skin is crawling with uneasiness and he is fighting his fight then flight instincts. He taps at the small circler tracker he has in his winter coats collar as subtly as possible. Hoping it looks more like a nervious tick then a trigger to call for help. Hopfully they aren't to far down for it to work. The group stops at a vault door and Ratchet cuts off a growl growing in his throat when one of the 'escorts' pulls out some heavy duty cuffs. "Tell me what reason you have for those or their not going on Spike." He warns fists clenching at his side. He huffs at the click of a gun and someone has the balls to press it into his back.

The young soldier, Spike, frowns and waves his hand at the others behind Ratchet, "Ratchet please it's just procedure. You have saved a lot of our lives don't make us be rough. We don't want to be. Just put them on so I don't get yelled at later." Ratchet narrows his eyes, frown tightening. Spike groans, "I don't know what they want. No one told us anything. Please I am just doing what I was told."

Ratchet can tell Spike is holding his breath, pleading silently for Ratchet to listen. Ratchet does let a growl slip when the guns barrel grinds into his spine. His head snaps around and he glares hard enough to cause pause, "Cut that out, I know exactly how far to shove that to not kill you but make damn sure you wish I did." He snarls as he holds his wrists up to Spike. The comment earns him muffled chuckles and a few glares. Cuffs on Ratchet walks into the room. Spike shoots him an apologetic look as the door closes behind him. With a heavy exhale Ratchet takes in the room. A concrete floor, circular shaped room with thick metal walls. Cameras line the ceiling edges. His exhale catches in his throat as the metal walls start rolling up to reveal bullet proof glass filled with quintessons in various stages of dissection and tests. "We have another sublevel secret lab bellow our sublevel secret lab. Of course we do." Ratchet mumbles flatly to pissed off he didn't know this base was more fucked up then he thought then to be scared.

Speakers crackle on and an annoying whine comes through, "Not the reaction I was hoping for. Come on Ratch buddy show a bit more emotion then that. Less grump more begging maybe? At least shock." Pharma's voice chimes around him in an irritating way.

"Looks like all of this has been going on for a while. Why bring me into this now Pharma?" Ratchet says calmly since that seems to piss Pharma off more. He looks at his cuffed wrists and his blood runs cold as the hair on his neck stands on end. Goosebumps cover his arms making him shudder under the heavy coat, "I am not here for shop talk."

"Mmhmm, I am going to miss that snarky brain of yours Ratchy. But you did do a lot of things that put the base in danger. Security has taken notice of a lot of data, intel, cameras and video footage being tampered with." Pharma almost has a mocking sing songy tone to him. Strange, Ratchet knows he didn't tamper with anything that would jeopardized the security of the base. Definitely not the cameras or video footage, "You know what you've done and what we do to traitors. I already have received the ok to take over your work. The good commander is allowing me to say goodbye to you since we were such good old friends. Don't worry. I'll take good care of your Mecha." Yeah, Pharma sounds real choked up about all this, Ratchet rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, he'll take care of you Pharma." Ratchet keeps his tone and body language nonchalant as he studies the cuffs. He takes note of the little bit of gap, if he dislocates his thumbs.. "Only thing that's annoying about all of this is I'll be late getting home."

"I swear you are boring me to death on purpose Ratchet!!" Pharma snarls as a thud noise rings through the speakers

"Oh could I be so lucky?" Ratchet sighs sounding hopeful. He stiffens as the room lights turn red and multiple hisses of compressed air being released surrounds him. A robotic voice rings out a warning that the test subjects are being released. Ratchet whips his head around stepping in a circle as snarles and screeches drowned out the warnings. Ratchet steadies his breathing as best he can as his hands trimble and heart beats wildly. Deadlock would be livid if he doesn't go down giving it his all to get back to him. Ratchet would be just as pissed to, "I'll do what I can but you better hurry kid..."

-- --

"You weren't suppose to do that Pharma." A flat voice speaks up from behind Pharma after picking up the chair he had kicked away. Pharma scoffs and grumbles, "You are not even going to ask him what he ment by being late to his quarters?" The chief of security drones on.

"Be sure to capture all angles. I want detailed shots of it all." Pharma growls removings his hand from the release butten he hit hard enough to crack. "You are being paranoid per usual. Don't tell me you never heard the rammblings of a dying man?" Pharma sighs, with a dramatic flick of his wrist he walks out of the room.

"No, but I imagine I will soon enough." The security director mumbles under his breath. Reaching over the chair he resets the cameras.

OH. OH THEY ARE FUUUUUUCKED

OH THEY ARE SO SO INCREDIBLY FUCKED THEY ARE GONNA GET SPREAD EVENLY ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND I WANNA SEE IT SO B A D

Next

[joelsbloodyhands]

Enjoy the Silence

SUMMARY: You come home from work and find yourself having sensory overload from everything. Joel comes home and takes care of you.

WARNINGS: no outbreak, no mention of Ellie 😭, established relationship with Joel, soft!Joel, descriptions of loud noises, reader gets big sad and unable to manage themselves, needs Joel for comfort, an overuse of terms of endearment (baby, sweetheart, honey), Joel is here to help with everything, sensory overload of touch, sounds, sensitive smell. Just absolute fluff (I need it so bad rn) 🤧 no use of y/n, gender neutral pronouns used, reader has hair long enough to tie up, reader has no visible disabilities. Reader loves Sarah. WE LOVE SARAH 🥺 but she’s unintentionally overwhelming us, sorry Babygirl 😭

Dividers by @nicodefresas 🎀

A/N: As I’m writing this, I’m currently having the worst sensory overload episode 😔 also I don’t think I should need to specify but everyone has different triggers and symptoms when dealing with overstimulation. A lot of this is based on my own personal experiences.

You don’t have the foggiest clue where it triggered from.

You just know that one minute you were grinding away at work, then you were driving home in the rain becoming all too aware of the blaring lights of other cars bothering your eyes more than they usually did.

If you could’ve worn sunglasses without crashing in the evening darkness, you would have. The sudden outburst of a car horn had you gripping the steering wheel tighter causing you to subconsciously flex your fingers, becoming all too aware of the rough leather of the steering wheel against your dry hands.

Dry hands. My lips are dry too.

You lick your lips.

My mouth tastes weird.

You’re becoming all too aware of your teeth grinding against each other.

Just tired, yeah…that’s all. Just tired. Long day at work. I’ll be fine once I get home.

So you keep driving.

Sarah was home when you got back. Her voice shaking you awake as soon as you passed the threshold of the house while she spoke to you about her day.

You look forward to these moments usually.

Coming back to Sarah and Joel.

Gossiping about the joys of working and all the drama of high school that you definitely don’t miss but enjoy hearing when Sarah gives you her best dramatic retelling of events.

Though as she followed you through the corridor to the kitchen, your ears rang.

Is she talking louder than normal?

You open the refrigerator, a sudden overwhelming scent of Thai green curry catching your senses and not in a good way.

But it’s your favourite?

Joel made it yesterday, putting the leftovers into three Tupperware boxes to eat for dinner today. The pounding of the washing machine and dryer causes you to close the refrigerator uneasily, your eyes glancing to it. Sarah’s voice joining the chorus of sounds echoing off the kitchen walls.

You don’t feel hungry all of a sudden.

“Are you okay?” Sarah voice breaks through and you come to realise you must have been staring at her for an awful long time, your eyes wide.

You nod and Sarah frowns ever so slightly.

“So what do you think?”

Your mind goes blank.

You didn’t even hear anything she said except yes you did but it was so loud, you didn’t take any of it in.

“About what?” You find yourself murmuring, your own voice startling you.

It sounds unfamiliar to you for some reason.

You’re worried you’ve upset her while Sarah takes a minute before a smile breaks out on her lips and she’s laughing and prodding you on the arm playfully. Your eyes drift there instinctively, her laughter making you wince.

You don’t laugh in return.

“Long day at work, huh?” She giggles and rolls her eyes before telling you she needs to go study and that you should eat dinner.

She leaves you then, your body standing in the same position in front of the refrigerator where she left you. The sound of her feet hitting against the staircase filling your head, the floorboards creaking harshly. You exhale a heavy breath.

As you stand there, eyes turning distastefully towards the washing machine and dryer singing their tune far too loud, your skin starts to itch. You tug at the sleeves of your work shirt, unbuckle the belt at your waist, the feeling too tight against your hips. You pull the hair tie from your wrist and put your hair up into a bun, the tickle of the hairs against the back of your neck bothering you.

You know what’s happening.

You’re just trying to refuse to accept that it is, hoping that for once you can just ignore it and go about the rest of your evening like you originally planned.

You just want to hear Joel’s voice, cuddle into him on the couch, eat your curry and go to bed.

Except when you hear the front door open and his voice is carrying through to the kitchen, you retract into yourself, carrying your feet away from the overwhelming sounds of mundane tasks and to the staircase. You want nothing more than to sit on the floor of your bedroom with your legs crossed and the lights off.

So you skip up the stairs, albeit with dramatic wide steps, trying not to trigger the creakiest of the floorboards. When you get to yours and Joel’s bedroom, flooded with darkness, you shut the door and allow yourself to crumble.

Ah you can’t take this. You need your shirt.

Where is it?!

You’re frantic, the tears falling down your cheeks as you continue to feel itchy in your work shirt, longing for the wide airy comfort t-shirt you keep for this very reason.

“Hey,” a whisper sounds behind you and you turn abruptly, eyes wide to see Joel stood, his eyes on you intently as he holds your oversized shirt by the shoulders in both hands.

Lost in all your distress, you hadn’t even heard him come in.

You realise you’re crying then.

“Joel, I-“

He watches you harshly rub at your face.

He knows you hate to be touched at times like this.

It feels like nails on a chalkboard but he ever so gently, puts two fingers to the wrist of your hand practically clawing at your face and you drop it immediately, your eyes meeting his again, pained and bloodshot.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you cry, “I’m just-“ you flail your arms in frustration, the intense sound of your sobs making your eyes twitch.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, moving towards you and taking the hem of your shirt in his fingers, careful not to graze any more skin as he starts to lift it from your body.

“You don’t need to apologise, baby,” he keeps whispering, “let’s get you more comfortable, hm?”

Joel knew all too well about your episodes.

In fact, it’s partly the reason of how he met you at Tommy’s house when you attended a barbecue and got overwhelmed by the music and sounds of neighbours, talking and getting louder the more drunk they got.

Joel had planned to leave early but was surprised when he found you curled in the bottom of a dark closet when he was retrieving his coat.

He froze when he saw you, your watery eyes lifting up at him, your arms wrapped around your knees pulled up against your chest.

Your cheeks had flushed dangerously, embarrassed about being found in this predicament but all Joel saw was a young woman clearly upset so he bent down to your level, his head turning this way and that scoping the corridor to make sure no one was around and asked you what was wrong and if he could help in any way.

You had shook your head so fast, the room span but Joel didn’t back away so easily.

Truth be told, you’d caught his attention all night and Tommy had nudged and smirked at him for noticing his eyes on you, encouraging him to go talk to you but he never did.

He couldn’t find a reason to.

Well, what more of a reason did he need than finding you sat with your back against a coat closet in his brothers house?

You had stood up so shakily that Joel found himself wanting to take you in his arms just to offer you some support to stand but you backed away when his hands instinctively held out to grab you if you fell.

He retracted them just as quick.

You told him you were fine and thanked him, saying you just needed to call an Uber and go home. You made the excuse that you’d had too much to drink and your head was spinning.

Dizzy and nauseous, you just needed somewhere dark to sit.

With the daunting thought in mind of having to sit in a stuffy taxi with a voice trying to make polite conversation with you, you didn’t catch Joel’s offer until you met his eyes again and he realised your blank expression, his back straightening and voice softening with a smile.

“If you need a dark closet, I got one at my place across the street if you need it?”

Somehow you laughed and even though your own voice hurt your ears, you found yourself saying, “if you’d said that to anyone else, you’d sound like a murderer,” and all it took was Joel’s pretty smile to take him up on his offer.

Except rather than a dark closet, he simply closed the curtains in his living room, offered you some chamomile tea, a blanket and sat in silence with you on the couch. And though your voices were silent, your mind was loud, finding it completely baffling that a man you just met and barely knew was being so incredibly sweet as to offer you a safe space. No questions asked.

Then he’d asked you out on a date and you were absolutely dumbfounded.

Later in your relationship, you had admitted what had happened and while he understood what it meant to feel overwhelmed (god did he feel it sometimes), sensory overload was a completely new term for him.

You explained as best you could, your cheeks the same shade of red he had seen when he found you in the closet. Joel took it upon himself when he was awake lying next to you, tangled up asleep in his bedsheets, to take his phone from his bedside and spend a good hour reading about what sensory overload was and how it can be eased.

You couldn’t believe your luck of finding this man. You practically thank that damn closet for it’s existence in Tommy’s house every time you visit.

So now you’re back in that predicament again and Joel is pulling back the covers from the bed, folding it up at the end knowing you just want a nice cool mattress to lay against.

Your heart twists at his care, tears falling from your eyes like rain, except Joel is the sun as warm and inviting as can be even when you want nothing more than to be left alone.

“Okay, honey,” he now whispers, knowing it’s easier to talk to you that way. His heart aches at the sight of you as he turns to face you, slowly walking so that his footsteps don’t make too much noise along the wooden floorboards.

“You wanna lie down? I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I don’t think I can eat, Joel,” you reply, your voice shaky as you lay down on the bed. Joel kneeling beside it, his palms flat on the mattress beside you while you lay on your side looking up at him.

“Usually liquids are best, right? Soup? Or I could make you a smoothie? And a cup of tea? Do you want your noise cancelling earphones, baby?” Your eyes are tearing again at his words and Joel’s face crumples at your glistening cheeks.

“It’s okay, honey,” he cooes, hand rubbing the mattress, pretending it’s your back.

“I feel bad,” you cry.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” Joel shushes you, knowing all too well where this is leading and disallowing you to talk badly about yourself.

“But Sarah, she…she was trying to tell me about something and I couldn’t even concentrate on what she was saying-“

“Baby, you know Sarah understands,” Joel leans in closer, his breath on your face as he reassures you of your racing thoughts.

“She told me as soon as I came in that she thought you were having an episode. She knows, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen, your crying stopping momentarily.

“Really?” You ask, your throat dry.

Joel nods, a small smile on his lips, “And she gets it, baby. She doesn’t judge. We’ve talked about it before. Just to make sure she always knew you might have a moment every now and again so if you need space, it doesn’t have anything to do with our relationship or the one you have with her. She loves you, honey and she knows you love her. Okay?”

You nod and Joel’s smile grows, glad to have consoled you.

“Now,” he starts again, “I’ll go get you what you need and you stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

You nod again, “thank you, Joel.”

Joel has to stifle his chuckle only a little, “how many times do I have to tell you? You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m your partner. It’s important that I take care of you. You do it for us plenty.”

You smile a little and it makes Joel swoon, happy to finally see your lips turn up, your dimples gracing the edges.

True to his word, he disappears but not before scoping the wardrobe and retrieving your earphones. You put them in and try to close your eyes and relax when he leaves. Trying to will your body to loosen up, your muscles to relax rather than freeze rigidly with every sensation. The mattress is cool, your long shirt light and airy and Joel left a cold glass of water with a straw on the bedside for when your mouth was feeling too dry.

He was one in a million and you smiled knowing you won the lottery when he found you that day in the wardrobe and then you became the richest person on the planet when you met Sarah and the connection you had to both of them grew stronger until he eventually asked you to move in.

Five years later and here you were. A family.

The best family you could’ve asked for.

“Hey baby,” you lift your head to see Joel wandering in, taking out one of your buds as he places a shaker bottle he normally uses for his protein shakes on the bedside full of a pink smoothie, joined by a cup of camomile and a bowl of your favourite soup.

“Thank you, baby,” you smile and Joel turns his head giving you a wink, seeing you that you seem to be gradually returning back to your normal self.

And luckily you are feeling a little more comfy now.

The sounds of the evening chores going on downstairs are becoming less aggravating.

You don’t feel like you need to tear your skin off your body. In fact you’re almost longing for a bath, feeling a little sweaty from being worked up so bad earlier.

“Joel?” You sit up, Joel turning to see the way your oversized shirt rides up over your underwear, his face flushing at the sight.

“You need something, baby?” He’s got that flirty smile on his face, the one that tells you he sees something he likes but you’re still not completely past your overwhelming senses.

If anything, you’re now bothered by the smell of sweat emitting from your body.

“You know how you love me so much?” You start and Joel’s eyes crease, his smile growing into a full grin.

He hums in response, awaiting your command.

“Pretty please could you run me a bath? You always make it feel so good.”

Joel kneels at the bottom of the bed, his flirty smirk returning at your words, his hands splaying out over the mattress, smoothing over it as you inch a bit closer to him.

“Is that right, sweetheart? You want a nice warm bath with all your rose petals and bubble bath? Is that what you need, baby?”

You nod with a pout, overplaying it a bit, watching his tongue poke into his cheek amused by your behaviour.

“If that’s what you need, I can do that for you but first I need you to eat some of your soup and drink some of your smoothie. Can you do that for me?”

You nod with a dimpled smile and as much as he longs to reach out and graze your knee with his fingertips, he reframes from doing so, continuing to respect your boundaries while you might still be working through your hypersensitivity.

True to his word, Joel ran the bathtub at just the right temperature, sprinkling rose scented petals and dropping a floral scented bath bomb into it. He’d even gone as far as to light some candles, set a fresh cup of tea on the side and stolen some chocolates from the last Halloween run you’d had with Sarah.

If you thought your lover couldn’t get any sweeter, he’d helped you out of your clothes and respectfully kept his hands away from you until you prompted him with a small smile to offer his hand and help you climb into the tub.

Joel left you to check on Sarah while you laid back, your senses mellowing out and coming back down from the heightened agitation you were experiencing earlier. Now finally you felt like a weight had been lifted. Your skin felt less itchy.

“So pretty…”

Your cheeks redden when Joel walks into the misty bathroom, stopping in his tracks at the doorframe and overlooking your soft skin peppered with fluffy soap.

“Have you washed your hair, honey?”

You shake your head, your smile slipping momentarily.

You would have done it if the room wasn’t a little cold. You were doing what you could to stay buried under the hot water, still feeling slightly sensitive to the temperature of the room. The aspect of lifting your bare wet arms out of the water to massage your scalp made you feel uneasy. You weren’t completely out of this episode yet and even if you were, the twinkle in Joel’s eyes told you he’d still offer up his services.

You watch him with bated breath as he kneels beside the tub, pushing up the sleeves of his favourite green plaid shirt, your eyes following the hardened muscles of his forearms up to his biceps peeking out under the flannel.

Though Joel may have a soft tummy, his arms were a statement to his hard work running a construction company with his brother, Tommy.

You rather adored your man being soft and a little hard around the edges.

“Want me to help you, sweetheart?” His voice captures you again, your eyes on his soft brown orbs.

You nod wordlessly, suddenly longing for his large hands and gentle fingers to work their way through your locks and massage your scalp deliciously.

You anticipate Joel’s touch anxiously when he leans over and reaches for your cherry scented shampoo, squeezing the red shiny liquid over his thick hands and lathering it together.

He offers you a smile, his head tilting in request to proceed in touching you. You nod and he moves behind you, his fingers sinking up into your hair from the back. You fight to suppress a shiver tickling up your spine when Joel works the product through your scalp, massaging and coating the ends of your hair with soft strokes.

It constantly amazed you how Joel’s strong hands that spent most the day throwing around heavy parts, growing calloused from checking wooden palettes during the day, could become so delicate and gentle when touching you.

You smiled to yourself, dropping your chin to your wet chest with a satisfied sigh.

Joel made sure not to massage too hard or tug harshly at your hair. He didn’t want to make you retreat back into your shell by triggering your hypersensitivity again.

He could see just from how your shoulders were gradually easing back down to normal level below your chin that your overstimulation was dissipating as the time passed.

He bites his inner gum when he hears a slight moan leave your lips at his movements.

“That feel okay?”

You hum in response, a short nod of your head.

“Good,” Joel whispers, even daring to lean forward, your damp soapy strands sticking to his cheek when he presses a slow soft kiss to your bare shoulder.

“I love you.”

Your words caress the relaxed atmosphere.

Joel smiles.

Joel wanting nothing more than to strip back and join you, holding you against his chest under the warmth of the water but he continues to hold back.

Instead he greets your quiet intimacy with a whisper.

“I love you too, baby.”

You open your eyes to a light breeze, birds singing and a smoky cup of coffee on your bedside in your favourite mug.

You lay on your side for a good few minutes, blinking away sleep, your hands cradled under your cheek and buried against the pillow.

You don’t remember falling asleep but when you feel a shuffle behind you, large warm hands slipping under your nightshirt and tugging you against his bare body, the memories start flooding back.

You were so relaxed in the bathtub that it made you sleepy. So sleepy in fact that Joel leaned over the tub after emptying it, bundled you up in a fluffy towel and lifted you into his arms.

Your cheeks warm when you vaguely remember the slight groan of protest on Joel’s lips as his aching back retaliated but with you squashed nicely against his chest, Joel couldn’t complain.

He laid you down in your bed carefully and dried you as gently as he could before tucking you in.

You remember being alone in your half-asleep state that you heard the familiar murmur of father-daughter voices, the click of the door and padded footsteps before the mattress dipped.

A kiss pressed against your forehead and all went dark.

Now the world was brighter than ever before, the sounds of the birds and cars passing by doing nothing to disturb your hearing. Your bones no longer stiffening at the natural sounds of life.

More importantly, the sensation of your lovers thumbs brushing your naked hips was very much welcomed. So much so you groaned happily, rolling over to face those perfect brown eyes and plush lips quirked up into a tired smile.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

You lean forward, meeting Joel half way and kissing him softly. You let your hands slip under his arms, cuddling into him while shuffling just below his chin.

Joel presses a lingering kiss against your head.

Distantly, you can hear Sarah’s record player and you sigh happily as the music carries through your home.

All I ever wanted…

All I ever needed is here…

In my arms…

You squeeze Joel tighter.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel on The Masked Singer

This is just a little thingy for me because I’ve been rewatching episodes. Imagine if he was on the Masked Singer? His vocal range would be crazy because I say so. He’d sing an Elvis song one week, and then a Megan Trainor song the week after that. Basically a different genre each week. Also, Mary would be the one picking the songs. She also picked the costume he wore.

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: “Here we are! Take your pick.”

Mary: “We’ll take that one.” *points to a pig costume* (SHAZHAM (🐷) REFERENCE!!!)

Marvel: “But that one’s ugly.”

Mary: “So? It provides more mobility. You’re going to pick that one.”

Marvel: “But, again, it’s ugly.”

Mary: *puts hand up* “I’m sorry, but last time I checked, have you ever participated in a competition like this?”

Marvel: “Well, no, but—”

Mary: “That’s what I thought. We’ll take that one.” *points again to the costume again*

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: *looks to Marvel*

Marvel: *nods head* “She’s uh… She’s the boss.” *sounds intimated*

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: “Uhm…” *looks between the two* “Alright then.” *walks away to a couple other people so they could wheel the costume out, a little baffled they just watched a teenage girl intimidate a grown man*

Marvel: *looks to Mary* “You’re a little bit too into this, you know that?”

Mary: “Shush. Let me be excited! If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do this to your fullest potential!”

Marvel: *happy to see her having fun with the whole thing* “Yes ma’am.”

The choreography would go crazy too. Like Mary said, he was going to do it to his fullest potential. She’s making him learn how to dance in sync with other dancers all that. One of the only reasons he isn’t completely struggling is that a couple past Champions were dancers, ritual performers/dancers, and so on. As for if he’d win? Maybe. All I know is that absolutely no one guessed him.

Crowd and Judges: “Take off the mask! Take off the mask! Take off the mask!”

Marvel: *takes off the mask*

Show Host: *jaw drop*

Crowd: *jaws drop*

Judges: *jaws drop*

Literally any leaguer whose watching the show: *jaws drop*

Show Host: “Superhero, Captain Marvel???”

Marvel: *little wave*

Show Host: “The winner of Masked Singer season X! Congratulations, you were amazing. Now what brought you to the show?” *hands Marvel a mic*

Marvel: “Uuuh… so I came on the show cause Junior dared me. Uhm I honestly didn’t expect to win.” *gives a thumbs up* “Was super fun though.”

Show Host: “Well that’s amazing!”

And so, Marvel goes home with the trophy. Freddy suggests they melt it down and sell it before Mary tells them it probably isn’t real gold.

The next day at the Watchtower…

Marvel: *Zetas in*

Flash: *zooms over, pointing* “You!”

Marvel: “Me.” *looks around* “Something wrong, Flash?”

Flash: “Yes! You can sing?!”

Marvel: “Oh, uh… You heard about that?”

Flash: “Everyone’s heard about it!”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Flash: “Yeah, ‘oh.’”

*silence*

Flash: “We’re marathoning all the entire season.”

Marvel: “WHAT?”

As for the songs he sang, obviously an Elvis song, and for me, myself and I, Hopelessly Devoted to you by Olivia Newton-John. You can pick the other songs.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Harsh Reality

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.8k

Warnings: minor angst, being cheated on (not by bucky), fluff

Summary: You come home to surprise your boyfriend only to end up catching him with another woman in bed. Now, you have to live somewhere else. You try to move on with your new roommates but it proves to be difficult when you were never really good at the dating part of your relationships.

Square Filled: safe house (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

One in a Million Series

Author’s Note: a while back, i announced i wanted to make a series based on the show New Girl, and i didn't want to wait around to write it. i won't be doing every episode in the seasons, and i won't be doing it word for word like i do for my rewrite. enjoy!

x

Your plane lands earlier than expected and the first thing you want to do is surprise your boyfriend, Jack. You left to go to a teacher’s conference in New York and have been gone for an entire week. That’s not much but it is when you consider you and Jack haven’t been apart for more than a couple of days out of the six years you’ve been with him.

You left your car with him since he didn’t have one so you took a taxi back to your apartment. You’re bouncing with giddiness and slight anxiety because you’re doing something you’ve never done before.

For those who know you, you’re not very good with the whole sexy seducing thing. Jack makes it easy for you. He takes care of everything and that includes you. Still, doing something out of your comfort zone is nerve-racking as it is exciting. Your best friend, Natasha, is on the phone while you’re in the back of the taxi wearing nothing but a brown trench coat.

“Why am I so nervous? This is a good thing, right? I mean, this is for Jack.”

“You’re not used to doing something like this but trust me, he’s going to love it.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to walk in and drop my coat on the ground. He says he had this fantasy that I'm a stripper with a heart of gold, and he's helping me put myself through college.”

“He didn't say the college part, did he?”

“Um, no, I wanted to create a three-dimensional sex character.”

“Really? What's your stripper name?”

You look at the driver who briefly looks at you. “Rebecca Johnson?”

“Your stripper name is Rebecca Johnson?” Natasha asks.

You can practically hear her bitch face.

“Boobies Johnson,” you quickly correct. “Two-boobs Johnson.”

“Look at you, in the back of a cab, totally naked. I am so proud of you.”

The driver pulls up to the house that you share with Jack. “I gotta go. I’m here.”

“Good luck, Two-boobs Johnson,” she chuckles.

You pay the taxi driver as you get out and walk inside your home. It’s quiet so maybe Jack is still sleeping. He’s known for sleeping in late. He doesn’t have a job because he got laid off two months ago, but he’s been doing odd jobs to keep the money coming in. That plus your teacher’s salary is enough to get by. You walk to the closed bedroom door and open it with a smile, however, that smile is lost when you come face-to-face with Jack.

He’s not sleeping. No, he’s fucking another woman. Both of them look at you with wide eyes, and Jack pushes his mistress off him as if she means nothing to him.

“Y/N! You’re home early.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I gotta go,” you whisper.

You quickly turn and run out of the house, forgoing the fact that you’re practically naked. Jack calls after you but you don’t stick around to hear what kind of lame excuse he has for you. The taxi is long gone and you don’t have the heart to call for another one, probably because your hands are shaking so much. How can he do this to you? You’ve been together for six long years.

You thought he was the one.

Natasha lives on the other side of town but you make it there sooner than you thought you would for someone who was running. She has a nice apartment overlooking the city. It was out of her price range but because she is so good with selling herself, she talked the landlord down to a price she was able to afford. She’s one of the best real estate agents this city has ever seen, so the landlord didn’t have a problem with lowering the price for her.

You knock twice on her door and she opens it with a frown.

“What happened?”

“He cheated on me,” you whisper. “I caught him with a woman in his bed.”

“Oh, babe. I’m so sorry. Come in.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into her place. “I’ve never liked him.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Listen to me. I know how you are. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

“Why did he do that? Am I not attractive enough? Sexy enough? Is it my singing?”

“No, it’s not your singing,” she sighs. “Men are pigs and Jack’s true colors came through. This is all on him.”

“I wondered why he wasn’t taking my calls. I just figured he was working.”

Natasha sighs and rubs your back in comfort.

“You don’t need him, Y/N. Listen, you can stay with me until you find something else, okay?”

“No, I don’t want to impose.”

“I’m serious. It’s okay. I have the spare bedroom you can use.”

Despite her offer, you don’t want to worm your way into her life. She’s active on dating sites which means she brings home guys left and right. She lives alone and you remember what it was like to have someone invade your space like this. It’s why that night, you go online to see if there is anyone who is looking for roommates.

You shouldn’t go on sites like Craiglist when it comes to living somewhere, but you don’t make a lot of money as a teacher. If you were to go through an agency or even on Facebook, you wouldn’t find something cheap. You scroll through the obvious trolls until you get to one ad for an apartment downtown.

Four bedrooms. Open floor plan. It’s a loft of sorts. There are three women there looking for a fourth, and you think this is what you need to make a new start. You’re afraid if you slow down, you’ll be forced to think about your ruined relationship with Jack. You’ve never been cheated on so the betrayal hurts that much more. You gave him six years of your life and now…

What are you going to do?

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you respond to the ad that you’re interested and go to bed.

Tomorrow morning, you wake up to seven missed phone calls from Jack and over twenty messages, but you ignore them and get ready. Natasha is eating breakfast in the kitchen already dressed to show a house.

“Have a house to sell?”

“Yeah. I’ll be gone most of the day.”

“I might have found an apartment.”

“What?”

“I saw an ad on Craigslist. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m going over to them right now. It’s three women looking for a fourth roommate for their loft.” You see the look on Natasha’s face and sigh. “I need something to do Nat, otherwise all I’ll do is cry.”

“Okay. Call me if you need me.”

“I will,” you smile.

You get dressed and head over to the apartment downtown. You knock on their door and freeze when a man with a metal arm opens the door. Two men, one blonde and one muscular, stand behind him, and you look confused when you don’t see any women.

“Are you Y/N?” the man at the door asks.

“Yeah. I’m here for the apartment listing if you’ll still have me.”

“Nonsense. Come in,” the blonde one smiles.

You walk in and look at the loft, already liking what you see. You don’t care that you assumed it was women and they’re men, you just need a new place to live. As much as you love Natasha, that’s her space and you don’t want to intrude. Plus, you don’t want to feel like a charity.

“My name is Y/N, but you already know that from the ad,” you say nervously.

“I’m Steve and this is Thor and that is Bucky.”

“Cool metal arm you have. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Thanks,” he mutters.

When you get nervous, you get chatty, and these three men make you hella nervous. It’s not that they’re intimidating or mean, but you’ve never lived with three guys at once. The only man you’ve ever lived with was Jack, and even sometimes that was too much. So, you start by telling them more than what they want to know.

“So, you know in horror movies when the girls are like, ‘Oh my God, there's something in the basement. Let me just run down there in my underwear and see what's going on in the dark.’ and you're like, ‘What is your problem? Call the police.’ and she's like ��Okay’ but it's too late because she's already getting murdered? Well, my story's kind of like that.” You tell them everything from Jack cheating on you to not wanting to live with your best friend and invading her privacy. “So, that happened. That's why I need a new apartment. I'm sorry, what was the question again?”

“Do you have any pets?” Bucky asks.

“No, I don’t,” you chuckle and stand up. “This place is beautiful. It gets so much light. Jack hated light. It's hard to say his name.”

“It's okay. Bucky knows. He got dumped,” Steve says.

“Dude,” Bcuky hisses.

The place doesn’t look fancy but it’s new and it can be the start of a new chapter if they let you.

“You know what, I want to live here,” you grin.

“Actually, I still have some questions,” Bucky says. “No offense, but we barely know ya.”

“Yeah, okay. Full disclosure, I'm kind of emotional right now because of the breakup so I'll probably be watching Dirty Dancing at least six or seven times... a day.” Thor shakes his head but doesn’t say anything to that. “Um, I'm a teacher so I bring home a lot of popsicle sticks and arts and crafts. Also, I like to sing to myself… a lot.” You start to sing. “A lot.” You sigh. “I don’t want to live with my friend. I hate feeling like a charity case even though she doesn't mean to treat me that way.”

“If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to talk in private,” Steve says.

All three men go into the bathroom while you take the opportunity to look around.

“I think it’d be good to have a woman in here,” Steve says. “It’s good to have a woman’s touch in here.”

“No, all she’s going to do is disrupt our vibe,” Thor argues.

“Bucky? What do you think?”

“Well, I’ve lived with a woman before so I know there are pros and real cons. For one, they smell good but their girly shit will start to be everywhere. Um, they’re good at folding.”

“Okay, we’re not going to come to a conclusion but I’ll take Bucky’s indecisive for a yes. She’s in!”

“Yay, I’m in!” you say from outside the door. Steve chuckles and opens the bathroom door, and you smile at all three men. “You won’t regret this.”

Natasha was weary about you moving into a place with three strange men but you need this. It didn’t take long for you to move in since you didn’t take much from your old place, so the reality of your situation comes crashing down around you the second you get a bit of breathing room. Dirty Dancing plays on the TV for the third time, and you’re lying on the couch surrounded by used tissues and a few of your boxes. Natasha must have called your mom because she immediately called you, worried about living with three strange men.

“I’m fine, mom. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Baby, you and Jack broke up. Of course, I’m going to worry about you. You’re not watching Dirty Dancing, are you?”

“No, I’m not watching Dirty Dancing,” you mutter.

“Did you make sure those men aren’t murderers? You know how badly I stress Stranger Danger. You’re my baby, Y/N.”

Just then, Bucky walks into the room.

“Hey, are you gonna murder me 'cause you're a stranger I met on the internet?”

“Yes, I am,” he says without looking at you.

“He says no,” you say to your mom. Thor and Steve walk in, having just come from the gym. “I gotta go, mom. I love you.”

“So, the biggest party of the year is on Saturday. I'm trying to get us in but you may need to call Sharon,” Steve says to Bucky.

“I’m not calling Sharon.”

“Hear me out, Buck.”

Before Bucky can say anything, you sob as another wave of depression hits you. All three men look at you and huddle around each other, not sure how to handle this. They haven’t lived with a woman in years, and Bucky slaps his hand on Steve’s chest.

“You did this. You wanted her in. You fix it.”

“Okay, I got it.” Steve walks over to you and sits on the edge of the couch. “Hey, Y/N. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine,” you sniffle.

“Why don’t we turn off the movie, okay?” Steve takes the remote from you and turns off the movie. “Come on, sit up.” You do and he smiles kindly at you. “See? Doesn’t that feel a bit better?”

“Not really.”

“Look, I was cheated on before. It wasn’t fun. In fact, it felt a bit shitty. I don’t know you that well but I know you didn’t deserve it. Look, there’s this party on Saturday, and you need to get your mind off your ex. It’ll be fun. You’ll go out, meet some people, have a few drinks, and forget all about him. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Now, why don’t you get dressed? Bucky works at a bar. We’ll go out for a few drinks and maybe get you a rebound.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You get off the couch and trudge to the bathroom to shower.

“This is all hinging on actually getting into the party,” Thor says.

“Buck, come on. You don’t even have to see her. Just call her and ask her to get us on the list.” 

Bucky walks into the bathroom just to get away from Steve but the latter follows him in.

“There’s someone in here,” you say when you hear them entering the bathroom.

“We're leaving in ten minutes, did you shave your legs?” Steve asks.

“I will now.”

“Front and backs?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Steve looks at Bucky. “Just call Sharon. You call her all the time when you're drunk.”

“No, I don’t. Shut up.”

You shave your legs and finish with the rest of your shower. Luckily, the boys have taken their conversation outside of the bathroom. You wonder what the deal is with Bucky and Sharon. How did things end? Based on his refusal to call her, you assume it ended badly. Will you be like this with Jack?

Like Steve said, you all leave ten minutes later to the bar Bucky works at. Bars aren’t usually your scene but you really want this to be a fresh start. You haven’t flirted with or been on a date with someone in six years. Everything was reserved for Jack. You’re not even sure if you have it in you to find a rebound. If you can’t be sexy well, how can you expect to capture a stranger’s attention?

All it takes is one bad experience to ruin potential future ones. Bucky, Steve, and Thor watch you try to flirt with men but each one fails. You’re either too weird, too loud, sing too much, or too awkward. After about six tries, you sit at the bar with a defeated look. Bucky walks over to you and slides you a pink wine, your poison of choice.

“Well, I guess I can't hide my crazy,” you sigh.

“I don't think you're trying that hard.”

“I've never been great at this stuff, so…” You look up and muster a smile. “Looks at us, a couple of losers. We both got dumped, jeesh.”

“I’m fine,” he says. “It was six months ago.”

“Do you know why she dumped you? I mean she must've hurt you pretty bad.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighs.

“Aren’t you always wondering, like, what it was? Like, was there something you could have done differently?” He shales his head wordlessly. “Do you know what happens to people who keep it all inside? They get old and they get sad and they get weird and then you're the old man yelling at the kids who are running across your yard and you're telling them, 'Don't run across my yard. My life's full of regret'. You can't just pretend like it didn't happen.”

“Or I could pretend to be more like you, Y/N, and live on a sparkly rainbow and drive a unicorn around and just sing all the time.”

“Yeah, I think you should sing all the time,” you giggle.

“No, I was being mean, I'm not gonna do that, Y/N.”

“Why not? It’s fun!”

“Because I have a dick, Y/N.”

“I’ll get you to sing one of these days,” you chuckle.

One of Steve’s friends comes up to the bar and smiles flirtatiously at you, and Bucky backs up to give you some space. He watches you smile at the man, and he looks down in thought. If you can try and move on, he can, too. He takes out his phone and dials Sharon’s number before walking away to take the call.

“So, I was going to go to the party this Saturday, but I’d rather take you out if you’re interested,” he says.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile.

“Great. Maybe we can go to dinner first.”

“Sure. Let me put my number in your phone.” The man hands over his phone, you put your number in, and you call yourself so you have his number. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Sounds good,” he smirks and winks. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you smile.

Looks like you scored a date and you weren't weird at all. The high of getting a date wears off an hour before you have to leave for it. You’re stuck in your room, wondering what to wear. What would be sexy enough? Should you be sexy? Cute? Casual?

God, what am I doing?

Natasha comes over to help as soon as you text her, and all three of your roommates are shocked into silence, more so Steve than the others. She’s beautiful and has guys hanging off her arm. She’s well known, her picture is on billboards across the city. She’s not shy about her appearance, and this is one of those times. Thor and Bucky look at each other when they notice Steve staring with a smile on his face.

“Natasha. Do you go by Nat?”

“Only to my friends.”

“Cool,” he nods. “I’m Steve.”

“Y/N, do you need my help?” she calls out.

There is a thump followed by a yelp. “I’m okay.” She gets up and walks to your bedroom to see you lying on the ground like a starfish. “I tripped on my heels.”

“Okay, sit up.”

You sigh and do as you’re told. “What am I doing? I can't go on a date. What if it's horrible? What if I have nothing to talk about?”

“Then you go to the bathroom, you call me, and you tell me all about it.”

“Maybe I just shouldn't go.”

“Babe, you got hurt. That doesn't mean you stop trying. Okay?”

She has a point. Some might think it’s quick how fast you’re trying to move on, but you can’t slow down. If you do, you fear that you’ll never stop crying. With Natasha’s help, you dress in a short black dress that’s classy but still covers everything. You two walk out, and all three men look at you in surprise. Bucky leans his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands together. Thor and Steve smirk at each other, already in tune with what Bucky is thinking.

“Wow. You look amazing,” Bucky says.

“Thank you,” you blush. “I’m kind of nervous but also kind of excited. I’m going to text him and tell him I’m heading over.”

“Wait, have you been texting him?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, is that bad?”

“No.” He smiles slightly. “It’s nice. Have a good night.”

“This is going to be great,” you grin.

Natasha drives you to the restaurant, and you grab a table since Peter isn’t here yet. You’re a bit early, anyway, so you don’t mind the wait.

Sharon is able to get all three men on the list at the party since she knows the owner. Thor, Bucky, and Steve arrive at the party which has a bunch of people outside waiting to get in. They’re in line when Bucky notices a few of Steve’s friends, including Peter. They spot Steve and head over immediately.

Bucky frowns when he doesn’t see you.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Oh, dude, she texted me like seven times. Like long ones. I just wanna hook up.”

“So, is she waiting for you to show up or did you call her?”

“Yeah, that's what I did, I called her,” he laughs.

Peter and his friend head inside but Bucky stays where he is. Thor is about to go in when he notices his friends not following him.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t go inside, man.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky shakes his head, turns, and jogs away from the party with Steve. Thor’s been looking forward to this party, but he understands that you need them more. He sighs and runs to catch up with his friends.

After thirty minutes of not showing, you know Peter won’t be here. You’re the only table in the restaurant without food except for the free bread they give out. You sigh sadly and look down at your lap, picking apart the bread. You look up when you hear footsteps head your way. Oh, it’s only a waitress.

“Do you have anything else that is free, but also has bread in it because the good bread I ate and uh, all that's left is a… it's like a… it's kind of like a health bread?”

“I'm sorry. We're gonna have to ask you to give up the table.”

“Um, can I please just stay, just a little bit longer?” you ask in a small voice.

“We’re here!” You look behind her to see Thor, Bucky, and Steve enter the restaurant. “Yup, we’re here, Y/N!”

Seeing them is ten times better than seeing Peter.

“We're here for the date thing,” Steve says.

“You're all here for the date?” the waitress asks, shocked.

“Yeah, we are. We're her boyfriends. We are reversed Mormons. One man just isn't enough for her,” Bucky says.

“Okay,” the waitress sighs and walks away.

Now that she’s gone, you look down in sadness. The reality of being stood up weighs heavily on your shoulders.

“Hey, Y/n, that guy was a jerk. You don’t deserve him.”

“You guys missed your party to come here to see me?” you ask and look into his eyes.

“Yeah, we care about you. We like you.”

“That’s so nice,” you sniffle with a smile.

You’ve only met these guys, but you know that moving in with them is one of the best things you could have done for yourself.

x

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