#i hate living here so much. everyday it gets worse somehow

[mxwhore]

my cousin (son of dumbass uncle) is staying over more often and since i tend to dress oversize/masc, my stupid uncle and/or grandma are syphoning my fucking clothes to him and this time im really gonna do it.

[orimuraa]

꒰♡꒱ Dear. My darling - OT7

(synopsis) ༊*·˚ it was so painful for enhypen not to miss youೄྀ

ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ༊*·˚ HEAVY angst ༊*·˚ main character death ༊*·˚ enha dealing with your death ༊*·˚ death, crying, mentions of sickness ༊*·˚ wc 1.8k

jiji’s note: i’m so sorry for the heart wrenching angst. i’m in a mood rn and this is what came out of it. pls do not read if you have trouble reading about loss of a loved one. if you are struggling with something like this, my inbox is always open <3

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

wow. you were really gone. it’s been weeks since you left this cruel world and heeseung hasn’t been able to realize that you really were gone. you didn’t deserve to leave. you were the purest person on this earth and heeseung was the luckiest man on earth to have you. you were so, so, so strong up until your final breath. you had fought so hard to stay awake everyday and heeseung was right there with you on your hospital bedside. you had asked him, “when i leave, promise me that you won’t miss me too much okay?” and he wanted to promise you that and so much more. that it would be okay. that you would make it out well and healthy. but you both knew that that was just a fantasy too far out of reach. the doctors had told you and heeseung that your condition had only gotten worse and your days were limited now. heeseung took a whole month off of work just so he could stay by your side every minute of the grueling days. the sound of your labored breathing was like a stab to his heart each time he heard it. your were in so much pain and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

the day you left him, a part of soul left him as well. you were his everything. he treasured you so greatly and to think that he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore hurt like hell. he hadn’t realized he was crying until he felt his tears drip onto his pants. how could he keep his promise to you when all he could think of was just missing everything about you? but he was determined to live till the day that you and him would be able to reunite with each other without any pain or care in the world. he knew that you were doing so much better now that you were free of your pain and that you would always be with him. always.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

it took a long three days for jay to finally realize that you were gone and that you weren’t coming back. the world had been so cruel to you and it resulted in you having to stay in the dreaded hospital for your last days on this earth. the hospital was the place you had despised most. knowing fully well that your illness was incurable, you had told jay, “promise me you won’t be too sad” how could he not? the love of his life was bound to this hospital bed and the life in your eyes was slowly fading away. the bright smile you always wore had become a rare sight nowadays and jay’s heart was shattering with each and every awful day that passed. on a cold afternoon, you took your final breath on this world with your loving boyfriend right by your side, whispering how he would find you in every lifetime just to be with you again.

jay didn’t know how long he cried for but what he did know was that his tears couldn’t bring you back. he knew it was selfish of him to wish that you were somehow still alive knowing that you were probably free of any pain you were in when you were on earth. he hated how he couldn’t keep his promise with you. he hated how you wouldn’t be there to brighten up his world anymore. when you left, you took jay’s soul away with you. you were his everything. how could he live without you?

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

jake dreaded every passing day, knowing that your condition was only getting weaker and weaker. a couple months ago, you were diagnosed with an illness that was incurable. that was jake’s worst day of his life. now, in the final days of your life, he was here with you, right beside your bed. he made sure that your hospital room looked nice and neat just the way you like it and he never left you alone. everyday, you would tell him just a little bit more how much you loved him. he knew the reason. he knew it was all because you were slowly fading away. he could see it in the way your eyes never twinkled anymore, and the way your smile was never quite full. every little word that came out of your mouth was filled with so much pain. he also knew that the best thing for you was to just be able to rest. to be free of this cruel and awful world that had cursed you, the purest of angels. you deserved nothing like this, yet look where you were now. stuck to a hospital bed, slowly and painfully losing your life.

the day you let go, jake couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone. his friends had to come and pick him up from the hospital just for him to attempt to run back in, saying you needed him next to you. the truth was, he needed you next to him. he cried himself to sleep every night since that day, missing you more and more as the time went by. jake knew that you wouldn’t have wanted him to be this miserable. he could just imagine you wiping his tears for him and telling him not to cry too much for you. but how could he not when his light in this dark world just went out? he couldn’t bear thinking of what life would be like without you. he just couldn’t.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

sunghoon felt like his heart was just ripped out. seeing you take your last breath in that god awful hospital room was so heartbreaking for him to witness. the way your eyes had so much pain in them but the smile you tried to put on for him is something he could never ever forget. why did you have to be cursed by this world? why was it always the purest of people? you were nothing but an angel to this world yet you still got sick, limiting your time with sunghoon.

exactly a month after your death, sunghoon wrote a letter to you. he wrote it because he wasn’t sure how else to cope on this day. he wanted to let you know that he was trying so hard to be strong for you, but it hurt so bad. he missed you so much. the way your eyes would crinkle into little crescents when you smiled, and your warm, infectious laugh, he would never be able to experience this ever again. he held so much guilt in his heart for not being able to keep your promise to him. he promised to you that he would try his hardest to move on just like you wanted for him, but he just couldn’t. he didn’t know how to cope with anything at the moment and he certainly had no plans of moving on. he just couldn’t keep his promise.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

seeing your brightness slowly fade into darkness was sunoo’s nightmare. he hated how he had to watch the brightest person ever slowly get consumed by the dark. your illness was a mystery to the doctors and it had been a surprise. it happened so suddenly and sunoo had no idea how to handle it. he stayed with you everyday and made sure that your were never alone, knowing deep down that these were probably his last moments with you. on the day of your passing, sunoo cried and cried and cried. he felt so helpless and heartbroken that he was afraid he would never do anything else in his life except cry. cry for you. you would’ve never wanted him to be this devastated but it was something you couldn’t control. he knew that if you ever saw him now, you would break down at the sight. he was a wreck since you left him. he wasn’t sure how to move on or just move to the next step from there. a part of his soul died the same day you did, leaving him with half a soul, and a broken heart.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

you were so young. you didn’t deserve anything that happened to you. the doctors had diagnosed you with a sickness that was limited your days on the earth after an accident you had. jungwon never left you alone and always made sure to be with you every second you were awake, savoring his last few moments with you. it was supposed to be any day now where your body would give out and jungwon would lose the one person in life who made life worth living for. before you passed, you had told him, “i want you to be happy when i’m gone. i don’t want you being stuck on me and not moving on. please promise me that” and at the time, he was willing to do whatever you wanted since it would be your last wish, but now, he hated the idea of moving on from you. there was no way he could ever let you go.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

having to deal with your passing at such a young age was so hard for ni-ki. you had gone down with an unknown illness and the doctors said that your days were limited now. ni-ki was with you every step of the way up until your death. he loved you so much and he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. the day you had passed away was the hardest thing ni-ki ever had to go through. you were such a bright and bubbly person so him seeing you so lifeless and low made his heart break. you would always re-assure him that you were doing fine and just a bit tired, but ni-ki saw right through it. he knew how much you were struggling because you still had so much you wanted to accomplish in your lifetime. you and ni-ki had once shared your dreams for your futures to each other and it now pains him to realize that you would never be able to love out your dream.

a week after your passing, ni-ki and his hyungs went to go get flowers to honor you. jake had told him that maybe he just needed to write a letter of closing to you. to let you know how proud he was of you for fighting so hard for so long. he had so much he wanted to say to you but the realization that he would never be able to talk with you again really struck deep. he knew he had to recover for you, but he would never move on. he promised himself that he could never love again. he felt that he would be betraying you even if you wanted him to move on after you were gone. but god, he would miss you so much. but at least now, you were in the stars.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧

i'm sorry for the heavy angst :( it was rlly hard for me to write as it just reminded me of my grandma's passing but funny enough, i think this helped me get out some emotions i didn't know i needed to. if you're ever struggling, i want my inbox to be a safe space for everyone to just come and vent if needed. i want to be a safe space for people in need. tysm for reading everyone. feedback is very appreciated <3

[sunflowerhae]

Ch. 17 FTCU by Nicki Minaj

Haechan stands beside you, feeling like he’s on cloud 9 as he sways to the beat of the drums. Here he was with all his best friends, watching a free show for a famous artist with a model, two youtubers, and you - his idol and crush..and friend. If you had told Haechan he would be in this position 6 months ago, he probably would have laughed in your face and told you to get fucked. But regardless of that, here he stands, right by you. Typically, when you’re in a room with him, haechan can’t help his eyes from casting their long gaze towards your face. It’s almost instinct on his part; a primal part of him that can’t keep his attention away from you for more than a minute. Even now, as Mark pulls him away to ask him something along with Jaemin (the two seem to be getting on just peachy) he still is acutely aware of every movement you make.

You couldn’t stop yourself from crying.

Watching your best friend of 5 years complete a life dream of hers by finishing a world tour is not a sentence one says everyday, so when you watch Giselle finish her final monologue to the crowd and transition into her second to last song from your spot in the balcony room, you can’t stop the tears that threaten to spill. You look around briefly, noticing that haechan left his place beside you in favor of Mark and Jaemin. You try your hardest to hide the pout that makes its way to your face, shaking off the sick feeling that grows in your stomach from haechan stepping away.

It’s just a stupid crush, y/n.

Can you be blamed, though? In the 6 odd months that you’ve lived in your apartment building - sharing a wall with the boy your eyes can’t leave - Haechan has somehow found a way to nuzzle himself into your heart, setting up camp and using pieces of your sanity to make a tent. Whenever your expectations dip and you try to rationalize your friendship with him, Haechan turns around and exceeds your needs tenfold. It’s almost like the boy knows everything about you, with how much he gets right. He always seems so…aware of what you want and how to get it.

You don’t realize you’re staring until your line of sight is cut off. Looking at the face of the person who stepped next to you, Karina is smiling back while holding out a beer for you to take. “Well, they seem pretty happy right now,” she gestures behind you as you take the beer from her hands. Turning around, you see Winter trapped in Jeno’s arms, swaying to the music as he whispers something in her ear that has her throwing her head back in laughter. You sigh, jealously creeping into your heart at your best friend’s love.

“Yeah, they’re usually like that. Although it’s gotten worse recently, I will say,” you say while laughing, turning back around to see Karina doing the same, “I can’t be mad when I see them, though - just jealous.”

Karina quips her brow up at you, “no one special in your life, y/n?” You look back at her in surpise, which she seems to take as anger, “not like you don’t have anyone special or anything! Just, are you single is all I mean..” she trails off, obviously experiencing a severe case of foot in mouth syndrome. Karina internally hits herself on the head - she really liked you and your friends, and although she would never admit it she can’t help but feel intimidated by all of you. She would hate to ruin the chance of friendship with her bluntness that people typically aren’t fans of. Before she can apologize, she is surprised when you start laughing.

“No, no! You’re okay don’t worry I got what you meant. No, nobody special right now. But with my schedule it probably wouldn’t work out. Any free time I have is usually spent being lazy, or satisfying haechan and his need for attention.” You laugh while rolling your eyes playfully. Just then, the spot to your right is taken by Ningning. You liked her, she was so sweet and you couldn’t help but find her love for coffee endearing. When she told you about her desire to open her own coffee shop, you saw a lot of yourself in her; a girl with dreams who wants to be her own boss. As if feeling a kinship between the two of you, her presence eases away some awkwardness you felt almost immediately.

“Ahh yes, we know a lot about Haechan’s neediness. It’s nice having you around because you take a lot of heat off of our shoulders!” She exclaims, which causes the three of you to go into a fit of giggles, your heart growing warmer thinking about the boy so easily replacing them with you - it’s nice to feel so wanted.

“Oh yeah, I get it. I told him the other day he uses me like a girlfriend or something,” you recount the day, trailing off somewhat awkwardly as you remembered the embarrassment that followed from that sentence leaving your mouth. While you and Haechan played with each other freely, not really having filters in what you’ll say, that one took the cake and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud, as it was the first thing you’ve ever said that left the tanned boy completely silent. The two don’t seem to notice your sudden uncomfortable nature, or if they do they don’t acknowledge it. You watch Karina’s eyes go wide as she smiles,

“Oh my god remember when we met and you thought I was Haechan’s girlfriend!” The two of you laugh while Ningning seems surprised.

“Wait, what? Did I miss something? I didn’t know you guys have met before…” Ningning seemed somewhat betrayed as she stared at the both of you with wide eyes.

“Ning I’ve told you about this, girl! Y/n thought me and Haechan were together when I was there one day to study with him,”

“-yeah it was just a misunderstanding. Haechan cleared it up though!” You finished, nodding a bit as you watched Ningning’s gears turning in her head. Her eyes go light as she bursts out in laughter, picturing something funny in her head.

“God - imagine Karina and Haechan! I know for a fact Karina would never go for him, right? And vice versa too, you’re just not his type - no offense though,” she pouts at Karina, the former rolling her eyes as she tunes out the conversation and focuses on Giselles music. You find yourself hyper aware of this conversation, oddly invested. You also note that Ningning is on her third beer, and is slightly more intoxicated than you. “But it wouldn’t matter regardless!”

“Why not?” You press, instinctively leaning closer into the brown haired girl as she takes another swig of her beer before continuing her thought.

“Well, haechan has a really big crush on this girl he knows, so he would never go for Karina!” You can see the realization sink into Ningning’s eyes as she processes her own word vomit. Karina, having heard just the tail end of your conversation, snaps her head over to the two of you - suddenly becoming an active listener in this doomed interaction.

You’re not sure if your face showed it, the devastation. Maybe you liked Haechan a lot more than even you realized, because at the mention of some random girl he seemingly liked, your stomach felt as if it had been sucker punched by a WWA fighter. You tried your hardest not to wear your heart on your sleeve, just giving a slight nod and a deflated, “oh, that’s cool…”

Yeah, good job with that y/n.

Ningning can see your disappointment, even if she doesn’t understand it. Maybe you’re upset that Haechan didn’t tell you? Of course, why would he tell you - it’s you that he likes. But, you don’t know that, so of course it would upset you. She realizes that she needs to cover her tracks, at the very least so you don’t go moping to Haechan and get her in trouble.

Giselle ends her second to last song and fades into her final and most popular, the crowd screaming while Ningning actively leans in closer to you to make a point to say, “well he likes her but she doesn’t really know so there’s probably not a great chance for them! But you should ask Haechan about it - I mean he’ll definitely tell you because he’s like obsessed with you. NOT IN A WEIRD WAY or anything! Just like..normal obsessed like how people are obsessed with their friends! But like yeah that girl he’s OBSESSED with in a romantic way and he really wants her he talks about her like alll the time..BUT yeah you should ask him if you don’t know because he’ll definitely tell you about it yknow..haha yeah..anyway I’m gonna go get some water BYE Y/N!” And with that, she quickly retreats to the snack table, hitting herself on the head as she realizes she just made things much much worse. With a sigh, you turn back to the concert. Karina gives you a look of confusion, not having heard the last thing Ningning said over the crowd screaming. You shake your head with a small smile, trying to act like it’s all cool, trying to act like your heart isn’t breaking.

Haechan likes someone. He likes a girl and he didn’t even tell you. You’ve gotten to know him so much over the last 6 months, you hang out almost every day and tell each other everything. He’s been in multiple videos now and the fans love him. You eat dinner together all the time and have a tv show that you watch together and get mad at each other if someone watches ahead. Haechan is your everything, and he didn’t even tell you he had a crush on another girl.

Giselle and winter were right, you should have never gotten this involved with him. You should have protected your heart and realized you cannot date your neighbor. There’s so much you should have done, but as you turn your head and lock eyes with his brown gaze - he grins at you in a boyish manner like the both of you have a secret that only you two know - you don’t think it was ever possible to not get this far with him. Haechan has possessed your mind and heart completely, and you let him.

What a stupid crush, y/n.

GG! (Good Game!) 👾

Notes: yay everyone met‼️ guys it’s getting spicccyyyy

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[jessicafangirl]

The Goore The Merrier

It's a different world where the dead have returned but humanity is always the same. One night your friend begs you to come with her to a concert at a local club to see a band you've never heard of. And it's there you find out things aren't always what they seem.

Hey Kids! This is a stand alone one-shot to see how this plays out and dip my toes into the Goore. If you like this, please comment so I know that creating a far longer story in this world would be welcome. Also avail on AO3 here

You got used to the smell. Somehow you did. When the world realized the dead were coming back to life it wasn’t pretty. And neither was the smell, at least when it came to some of the really damaged ones. There was only so much you could do when half your brain was exposed or say your ribcage looked like it had gone a few rounds with a weed wacker.

It was chaos for five or six months until a combination of the military and corporations came together to figure out a way to make the living and the undead work. And in the case of some people, actually make the undead work. And that’s how two years after everyone discovered reanimates were real, the dead were an everyday part of the lives of the living. There were other terms for them not nearly as kind. Shamblers, zombies of course, and the very touching corpses.

Needless to say there was outrage among many living workers when companies and business owners realized they could get the cheapest labor ever when it came to the dead. Most of them just needed a place to stay and a supply of blood or meat…the source not really important. When you were a reanimate, you didn’t need to worry about heat or cold. Some of them were always going to be confused or near catatonic, which was sad to see.

The dead didn’t need human brains specifically or human body parts. The virus that was running through them and making them come back to life just needed fuel to keep it going. Of course human was better it was discovered, maybe because it was pure for the system.

You found this all interesting as it played out, after the horror faded and the danger was culled of course. You’d seen enough Romero movies and zombie flicks to know this could have become a world ending event. But leave it to the rich people to figure a way to profit from something like this…even when a person is dead they can’t get away from the need to work for a living…if that was the right phrase.

Of course the workers who lost jobs to the reanimates weren’t happy. Which made things worse somehow for the already dead. Hatred of them spread, even families who should have been happy that their loved one was returned instead ostracized them, hated them. Not everyone came back of course…you had to be infected before you died. But still…you wouldn’t have been sad to see your grandfather again.

The virus was an interesting thing. It seemed to heal its hosts after being activated by death. But some reanimates were just too far gone depending on how they died to be completely fixed or even verbal. Then there were the ones who could pass as normal, still completely human. No one knew they were undead until something tipped them off. Boy did the haters really not like them. Many of these poor reanimates who tried to pass as human and were discovered found a way to final death. Yes, you could kill a reanimate. The tried-and-true method of cutting the head off did it. The brain was needed to keep going and if you took that away, final and total death was the result. The hate mobs would disappear them and no one was the wiser…or if they were they didn’t care. They had already been dead once, right?

Again, you were only shocked at the hatred humanity could have only for a brief time. Then the reality of how even in the face of something awe inspiring as this the dickheads could figure out a new way to be dicks. People never let you down when it came to letting you down.

Your small town was like a microcosm of the world as a whole. Reanimates were a part of the everyday, so were the hate crimes against them. Lucky for you the job you had was one that required people skills and talking. Or more to the point talking and the ability to bullshit your way through dealing with people and their cell phone issues. Call center work wasn’t what you had gone to college for, the couple of years you’d attended. But life happened and so it was a dead-end job, in a dead-in town, with quite a few of the dead that made up your existence.

That day had been a long one. It was a Friday and cell service had gone down for a section of the country. Somehow the callers expected you to singlehandedly restore it. There was a lot of screaming, a lot of cursing, and you had nearly bit your lip in half keeping yourself from screaming back at them. By the end of the day you had a headache and just wanted to crawl into bed.

“Hey girlie!” Your co-worker Patricia called as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “What are your plans for the evening?”

Patricia was one of the few people you liked. She was younger than you but had nearly the same amount of sarcasm as you did, which was a feat. She hid this behind a shock of light blue hair and multiple piercings. She was like a bubbly version of Tank Girl.

“My bed and a TV with as much 70s schlock as I can stand.” You replied. “And a large dose of Excedrin.”

“What if I gave you another option?” Pats sauntered over and blocked your exit from your cubicle. She grabbed up your Funko Pop of Godzilla and started turning it over in her hands.

“I would say I would highly doubt you had the ability to convince me to do anything other than what I just said.” You held out your hand for the pop which she dutifully placed into your palm.

“Look, I need a wingman, and my usual let me down.” She gave you big, dark anime eyes as you placed the king of the monsters back in his spot. “There’s a gig tonight at the Corpse Grinder and I’ve got a date but….you know….I just want back up.”

The Corpse Grinder was the local metal bar known for loudness and some very unusual performances. The name had been in play before the dead returned…you’d think they would have changed it but heck, edgy was in.

“Pats…my head feels like it’s going to explode, and you want me to go to a concert where I may go full Scanners?” You give her a look of disbelief.

“I’ll owe you. Come on…it’ll be fun!” Somehow, she made her eyes bigger.

You sighed heavily. “Fine…but I’m only going because I don’t want you to be taken advantage of…and also you’re taking my shift next Friday.”

Patricia pouted for a half second and then grinned broadly. “Fine, deal.” She hugged you and you patted her back for a moment.

“Who’s playing?” You asked as you both headed out of the building.

“Oh this new group…at least they’ve never played here before. One of those fake undead ones. The Unearthed.” She said excited.

It was a thing these days that musicians, especially the metal and punk scene ones, would play act like they were reanimates. It was edgy of course and was a big fuck you to the establishment which was the way punk had been for decades. You’d not heard of these guys before, not that I could remember. That didn’t mean much though, you didn’t do the live band/bar scene often.

“This is a death metal one isn’t it?” You asked as you emptied out into the parking lot, the sky already turning dark.

Pats nodded happily. “Yeppers, and one of the best. Seriously, you’ll have fun.”

You sighed, pushing your glasses up your nose, the twinge of the headache still dancing behind your eyes. “What time do I meet you there?”

She flashed all of her fingers at you. “Ten is when the shindig starts. So be there like at 930. I’ll get us a close table.”

“Okay…I’ll see you in a few.” You headed to your car and drove home.

After taking four large pink pills and shooting them down with Mountain Dew your headache started going away. Excedrin Tension Headache was a gift from god. The hot shower you took managed to get rid of the rest of it. Now came the fun part…what the hell did you wear to this?

After rummaging around in your small apartment closet you chose a pair of acid wash jeans you’d had managed to keep since your 20s. They were artfully ripped on the knees. You paired it with an Alice Cooper concert shirt you’d also had since your 20s. The shirt was faded to hell, but Alice’s wide eyes were as vivid as ever. Make up was dark eyeshadow and a purple lipstick so deep a shade it coul. ave been black. Silver hoops and your black leather jacket covered in pins was the last piece.

You looked in the mirror and pushed your glasses up your nose, giving your hair one last fluff. This was as good as it got. You fed your beta fish Poe and headed out the door.

You had figured there would be a line just to get in and was betting on Pats to keep her word on the table. Sure enough the line was out the door and part way down the building. You’d actually got there 20 mins earlier than she’d said to. You got behind a group of 20 somethings that had what appeared to be every part that could be pierced pierced animatedly talking about the band that would be playing.

“Dude…Mary’s gonna kill.” The guy with both sides of his head shaved started bouncing up and down in excitement.

“I can’t believe we’re finally seeing them.” The girl with a chain linking her nose ring to her ear said while taking a long draw off her vape pen.

You pull your phone out of your bag while thinking how, if ever there was a chance she’d wind up in a fight, the jewelry choice she’d made was a bad one. One yank and it would be blood, tears, and screaming. Your brain had a habit of going to the dark side often.

You decided to look up the band while waiting. Eventually you found a fan page for them. They had a decent following for being relatively new. They had released a record a few months ago that was getting play on the independent scenes. As you shuffled along, seeing the pierce posse moving forward, you popped in your Airpod and started listening. It was death metal alright, but where a lot of that style didn’t do much for you, Unearthed had something more artistic going on. You could actually understand the lyrics and the lead vocals had a style to them that made the growling demonic tone stand out.

After hearing one song, a ditty about cursed souls burning in hells fire forever for their love that was forbidden, you decided you liked them. You’d moved to the halfway point of getting in when you pulled up a group photo, one of those staged ones for promotions.

The band consisted of four guys, all in tight black jeans. They were all wearing leather jackets that had seen some things, mostly illegal things if you had to guess. Two were blondes, one was bald, and one had dark hair that was styled in a stylish version of a devilock. All of them had various splatters of blood on them, but devilock had it running down his face. His big, green eyes stared out from the picture in a way that was unnerving, even without the blood if it hadn’t been there. All four of them were pale, nearly alabaster white. The skin tone made that blood on his face stand out even more. If this guy wasn’t the lead singer you’d eat your own jacket.

Sure enough and strangely enough you saw on the description that this was the Mary the group in front of you were talking about. Mary Goore. Well that was a choice name. “Huh.” You said aloud. Mary of the demonic growls that somehow were as smooth as dark chocolate. Well Mary, you thought, I hope you are worth the wait here and it’s not all studio magic.

After another few minutes you showed your ID to the guy at the door and paid your cover charge. You were still like three minutes early and you quickly looked around for Pats. You saw her notice you and sure enough she had a small table right near the edge of the stage. This may or may not have been a good idea. You’d seen how the crowds could go at these things before…that table was probably not going to be upright by the end of the concert. Well, it would be an adventure…at least her date was there. Brown hair, piercings too, and a ratty hoodie with a King Diamond t-shirt that had seen better days. Yeah, that tracked with Pats previous dates she’d shown you pics of.

You pointed to the bar and made a drinking motion with your hand, hoping it didn’t look pornographic. Pats returned a thumbs up and pointed to the table where their drinks were sitting. You shot her an OK sign and headed over to get a beer because you had earned it this week. The club itself had a relatively unsticky floor which was a welcome surprise. The air did smell of booze, a little bit of weed, and a little stale smoke. All in all though, it wasn’t bad. The bartender and his team seemed to have a good flow too and the line was moving okay.

You were still going to have a little of a wait, so you went back to your phone glancing up every so often. Eventually you figured this was a sure-fire way to drop your phone and cause an accident as the crowd was growing. You pocketed your phone and took a breath, looking around at the various concert posters and neon signs that covered nearly every inch of wall space in the joint. The band would be going on in fifteen minutes so you hoped the line would get faster.

All of a sudden you heard a loud voice, very obviously drunk, coming your way. “Let’s get this show on the road mother fuckers….wooohooo!” You’d turned towards the sound just in time to be slammed into by said drunken voice’s owner. He looked to be 350 pounds and covered in tattoos, a few of which you didn’t notice were a mix of Aryan brotherhood symbols and sayings.

He’d knocked you off your feet and not in the romantic way, one of his waving hands even hitting your face with enough force to skew your glasses. You didn’t notice that though as you were realizing you were falling to the floor, which while not sticky was probably not the cleanest place to faceplant.

Before you hit the wooden beams something or someone caught you. You let out a humph of air as your arms were gripped by strong hands and your face landed against a leather clad shoulder. The hands stood you back up, holding onto you a moment longer as you steadied yourself. “Thank you…” You started to say, “I’m so sorry…he…” and when you looked up into the face of your rescuer you paused.

Large green eyes with a thin line of black rimming them looked down at you, a dark lock of hair falling over one of them. The blood was missing but his skin was as pale as the picture promised it would be. His cheekbones were just as sharp. He looked at you strangely, one dark brow raised.

“You’re with the band.” You said lamely, still a little shook. Mary Goore was still holding you up, his chilly fingers cold even through the material of your jacket. He gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Uh…thank you again…he sort of barreled into me and I didn’t mean to fall onto you.” You were rambling, part of your brain still trying to figure out the best adjectives to describe the green of his eyes.

You saw those eyes look over to where the large, loud drunk had headed. He was now in a corner with a couple other smaller versions of him, all of them equally inebriated and excited and just as obnoxious. Mary’s gaze was not kind and for a moment you thought you saw the thin, red veins of his eyes flash black. It was only a half a second and you shrugged it off as the lighting and also the fact your glasses were about to fall off your face. You were probably legally blind without them, but yeah, your eyesight sucked so it shouldn’t surprise you.

Mary Goore turned back to you, the glare changing to a look of perusal. His full lips thinned and while one hand stayed grasping your arm, the other raised up and straightened your glasses on your face. His fingertips grazed your cheek, and you nearly shivered at how cold they were. They must have just come in from outside. The faint scent of cigarettes still clung to their skin and the leather of their own jacket.

“Yo, Goore…you want something before you go on?” The voice of the bartender called behind you.

The musician nodded and after one more look at you, released your arm. He then held up two, long thin fingers towards the bartender who nodded. He grabbed two bottles of imported beer and popped the tops off them and placed them on the counter. The tall, thin figure moved through the people like a specter in front of the busy bar. You just stood there in the same spot watching in awe at the graceful movements born of hours in places like this.

You shook your head and turned to just head back to Pats and her date, your drink forgotten. Before you had taken two steps you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned and Mary held out one of the beers to you with another slight nod. You took the condensation covered bottle, not familiar with the name but not caring at this point. “Thank you again…you didn’t have to.” You sounded like an idiot to yourself but something about this entire interaction felt…surreal.

Mary’s lips pulled up just a bit into the faintest hint of a smile. And something in that look made you smile too. You raised your beer in a toast and lightly touched the glass of Mary’s with a barely perceptible plink. “Here’s to knights in shining leather.” You said. His smile grew enough you saw just a little flash of teeth, seemingly sharp incisors glinting in the neon. Mary then gave of all things, a courtly bow to you.

You laughed. “Have a good show.” You told them and you swore Mary winked at you and then headed off towards the backstage door, taking a long swallow of beer.

You shook your head, taking your own drink of beer. It was good, a bit richer and stronger than the normal Budweiser you would get. You headed back to Patsy, noticing her date was missing. She grinned up at you. “Hey! The shows going to start soon.” She beamed and you noticed she looked a little more glossy eyed than normal.

Sitting down you turned to her, “What happened to your date?” you asked, taking another drink.

She took a drink of her own, something that looked like a green martini. “He actually works with the band, actually for their manager. He’s doing some stuff real quick and then he’ll be back.”

Your eyebrows raised. “So, is this Mr. Right?”

Patsy giggled. “Oh…I don’t know…we’ll have to see how the night winds up won’t we?” She nearly slurred the words.

You didn’t know what to make of how tipsy she already was. Maybe she’d pregamed before the show. You decided to keep an eye on her. “Well I sort of met one of the guys in the band.”

She turned to you, glossy eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, some asshat came in and knocked me over. Mary Goore caught me before I could land in someone’s beer spill.” You were still a little shook by the encounter, not only because of the idiot who knocked you flying and the fact your cheek probably would have a bruise but just those green eyes of Mary Goore’s were…haunting.

Patsy let out a little oooh sound. “Oh honey, are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t…didn’t see it. Want me to kill the shit for you?”

You doubted Patsy could stand for a length of time, let alone go into battle for your honor. “It’s all good. Let’s just enjoy the show from the safety of this very unrickety table.” You placed a finger on the edge watching it tilt up at the barest pressure.

“Hey, don’t…don’t knock it.” Patsy grabbed her glass and took another swig of the green stuff in it.

It was another couple of minutes before Patsy’s date came back to the table, a little sweaty and out of breath. “Sorry baby…had to make sure some things were set.” He put his arm around Patsy’s shoulders. Then he noticed you. “Uh..hey.”

Patsy quickly introduced you to “Chuck.” You reached over and regretted immediately shaking his clammy hand. You noticed he was jittery and there was an odd colored stain on his King Diamond shirt now…which probably wasn’t the first King Diamond shirt to be covered in something gross but…it looked weirdly like blood in what little light you could see.

The lights in the bar blinked on and off twice and a man in a tattered and patch covered denim vest with a long beard went to stand behind the microphone. His garbled voice spoke to years of smoking and drinking the cheapest whiskey around. “Alright you misfits and monsters….I want you to get up off your asses for the dregs that we dug up just for you. Behold, The Unearthed!”

The lights then dropped off completely and you felt your heart jump for a moment. There was an eerie blue light shining on the stage as four men wheeled out four sperate coffins. Over the speakers there was a haunting organ playing, something straight out of Phantom of the Opera. Once the coffins were placed, the men dressed in all black hurried off the stage…and then the lights cut to black and there was a scream rattling the speakers which suddenly stopped.

Then the sound of a guitar cut through the darkness and the red and green lights lit up the stage where suddenly the band were just…there. At the center was Mary, standing behind a microphone, on his face glinting in the red light was the blood that had been missing before.

He looked like a supernatural creature alright. His cheeks hollow, bones sharp. His skin was as white as chalk and his eyes were now darkened more around the lids and below. His lips were black, the blood dark and dripping over his eye, down his cheek and chin. That shouldn’t have been attractive, it shouldn’t have made you wonder if they used corn syrup in the mix and would it be sweet if you licked it from his jaw. As they started playing the instruments in earnest Mary’s voice blasted over the sound system, a melodious growl straight from a fallen angel in hell.

Even when the crowd, as you knew it would, started creating a pit in front of the stage you couldn’t take your eyes off of Mary. You noticed he didn’t really blink as he was performing. At some points, during solos, he would stare across the crowd, not even looking at them, his long pale fingers massaging music from his guitar that would sound apt for Satan’s throne room…or bordello.

You eventually looked around at the rest of the band, but it was as if you had to physically yank your head away from Mary. They all looked a little strange, but that was the point you supposed. The gimmick. The dead band…it was edgy alright. The blood on Mary’s face was replicated on the other guitarist and bassist…apparently the drummer ate his victims a little cleaner.

You felt Patsy tap your arm. It was too loud to talk but she made a gesture toward Chuck and a very loopy, very suggestive grin. Something made you want to tell her to not leave with the guy…you don’t know why but you really didn’t like him. But then he was pulling her along with him and she was barely standing on her own, leaning on him heavily as he led her away toward the backstage door.

You watched with wary eyes, nibbling your lower lip and gripping your long empty beer bottle.

A new song was starting, and the tone of the music was changing. This was slower, not nearly as hard as the previous music. And while the lyrics were still on brand, dark and gothic, it was like the song you’d listened to waiting to get in, having a touch of the romantic. Mary’s voice went from growling snarl, to a velvet purr that you could feel in your chest. He was gazing down at the ground while he sung, fingers moving with skilled practice along his guitar, the red lights highlighting the demon tattoo that graced his forearm. At some point he looked up and turned right in your direction.

It was surprising and you felt yourself freeze as those green eyes locked with yours. You don’t think he’d looked at anyone directly the whole night but now you felt the weight of that gaze trapping you in your seat as his voice reached right through your ribcage. He didn’t blink once…you know because you felt the fact you weren’t either. As the chorus broke through the speakers about serving his heart on a platter to the one that would give him forever you nearly fell out of the chair as he turned away, letting you free of his stare and then starting a solo on his guitar.

You had to shake your head clear, finally blinking and grasping onto the rickety table for something solid. The show was over after another two songs, one of which was the encore. Patsy had still not returned from the back stage and there was no sign of her date. The Unearthed disappeared nearly as quickly as they had appeared, and two techs were breaking down the stage set up.

You didn’t know what to do but you had a feeling that something was very wrong. After a few more minutes of waiting you wandered outside the bar, looking around in case you had missed your friend walking outside. There was no sign, just some smokers. You recognized Patsy’s car in the lot, the deathtrap she called it, an old Fiero painted neon green. You couldn’t miss it. Unless she had left in Chuck’s car she was still there.

You chewed on your thumb nail, nerves roiling along with your stomach. The bar was going to close soon. Taking a deep breath you headed towards the alley that ran along the side of the building. The scent of garbage and old booze hit you hard along with smells you didn’t want to put a name to. There was a large truck the size of a small UHaul parked next to what looked like a side entrance. You quickly moved to the side door and hoped it was unlocked. Luckily, some lazy bum had decided to plant a piece of cardboard in the door so it couldn’t close completely.

You peered inside and didn’t see anyone walking around, so you carefully slipped in and placed the block back where it had been. The backstage area was dimly lit. The scent of tobacco and weed was strong back here along with a slight tang of booze. It was better than the alley you thought. You just needed to find Patsy and get the hell out of here, or at least find out where she was and if she was okay.

Moving cautiously through the backstage you realized the place was bigger than you originally thought. It was almost TARDIS like, it just kept going, bigger on the inside. This was no doubt due to the amazing amount of anxiety pumping through your system but still…

Hearing voices you ducked into a doorway while two men walked by you in the hall. One of them was the guy who had announced the band, the other you didn’t recognize. He was rail thin with thinning hair and a suit that had seen its glory days in the 80s no doubt. You caught a bit of their conversation, something about payment and maybe extending the run. It faded away as you watched them walk further down the hallway, swallowed up by the shadows. You took a couple deep breaths to calm your heart down and then headed in the direction they had come.

You found a door marked green room, with the green marked out and a crudely drawn PARTYY written in. It was closed. You pressed your ear to the door and, oddly, didn’t hear anything. You would have expected some sort of drinking or said partying. But maybe Patsy was inside or someone who knew where she was was in there. There was also the possibility of Mary Goore, a traitorous voice said in your head. You shook that away. You were here on a mission to find your friend, not the pale rock god you’d just watched.

The door was stuck but you pushed harder and it popped open for you. You glanced around and then walked in, surprised again that no one made a sound at the door opening. The room was dimly lit. Again, it was bigger than expected. Maybe it could hold a party actually, but as you stepped in the few couches inside were shoved up against one wall, and running along the other were leaning the coffins from the start of the show.

Your eyes narrowed to the contraption that sat on the coffee table in front of the coffins. It was plugged into the wall, a strange humming coming from it. There were tubes, four of them, running from the machine into each of the coffins through a small hole in the left sides. What the fuck was this?

Cautiously you stepped closer and looked at the clear container that made up the center of the machine. Your lips parted in surprise. That…that was blood. The thick, ruby red liquid was unmistakable. This couldn’t be happening…this couldn’t be real. But the dead lived, you’d seen them. But what was this?? There was no way…

You turned to the coffins and peered at them closer. Each had an engraved letter on the front in a small silver plaque with a very intricate skull design surrounding it. You saw the one with the M in gothic script. Another voice in your head told you not to do what you were about to do. It really yelled at you that this was stupid, and you needed to leave. But morbid curiosity and the desire for answers were winning out. You needed to find Patsy.

Steeling your shoulders, you wrapped your trembling fingers around the caskets lid and pulled it open, slowly. When it was opened you peered around and gasped. There, eyes closed and as still as a corpse would be, was Mary Goore. The tube ended in a needle that was going into his pale arm. His dark lashes lay against his pale cheeks, the right side of his face still wearing the blood he’d had on stage. He wasn’t moving at all.

Your lips were parted in shock. What the fuck was going on? Was the blood…going in or coming out? You glanced down at his arm then back at his face. You turned and looked at the machine then back at the singer. The shaking in your fingers grew worse but you had to know. So you lifted your right hand and pressed it against the thin, faded material of the Corroded Coffin shirt he was wearing, right where his heart should be. There was no beat, or if there was, it was so faint you couldn’t even feel it. His skin was cold through the worn cotton, nearly like ice.

You pulled your hand away and felt tears pricking your eyes. My god, had someone killed them? Jesus Christ…where was Patsy? Everything was hitting you like a freight train. You turned around, trying to calm your breathing, trying to get your mind to wrap around this surreal nightmare taking place in a time filled with nightmares. “Fuck Patsy…what…what have you got me stuck in…where the fuck are you?” you whispered to no one. Then you heard the voices outside the door and coming closer. You were trapped and there was nowhere here to hide. You froze hearing them stop right outside the door. Shit, shit, shit…

A hand wrapped around your mouth and an arm grabbed hold around your waist. You were pulled backwards with a speed and strength that didn’t even give you time to scream or struggle. Your wide eyes looked around as the sides of the coffin surrounded you. A doc marten clad foot kicked backward, and the coffin lid closed with a jerk, surrounding you in darkness and the scent of cigarettes, leather, and a metallic tang that you now knew was blood.

The fingers over your mouth were like icicles. When you felt the lips near your ear they caused a shiver to run down every nerve you had left. “Be quiet and don’t struggle.” Mary Goore whispered softly into your ear. “Nod if you heard me.” His voice was barely a breath in the confines of the casket. He was holding you so close the zipper and pins that covered his leather jacket were cutting into your back. You nodded as well as you could, trying hard not to have a break down.

Mary’s hand moved slowly from your mouth, his arm coming to rest below chin, just under your neck, his fingers gripping lightly to your upper arm. You were trying to breathe normally but the situation and the fact you were in a coffin was making that very difficult. “You need to slow down…they’ll hear you. Slow your breaths, calm down.” His voice was so low you nearly thought you imagined it. His fingers splayed out against your diaphragm. “Slow down. I don’t have to breathe…they hear you they’ll know it’s not me.”

That bit of information did nothing to really help calm you down but when you heard the muffled sticking of the door popping open, announcing they were coming into the room you shuddered. Mary’s arms tightened around you. You closed your eyes and focused on slowing down the breaths coming from your lungs. “Good girl.” His lips brushed your ear, the words barely there.

You could hear the voices of the two men, muffled but still you could make out what they were saying. “So Chuck the Fuck came through?” The guy with the beard was asking.

“Yep, he always does.” The other man, the even more creepy one it must have been replied. You heard him walking by the coffin and you couldn’t help pressing closer to Mary. You felt their fingers move up and down your arm a very soft “shhh” coming from his lips.

“Where’s the girl at?” The bearded man asked.

You bit your lip and strained to hear what the reply would be, your stomach roiling.

“He’s taking her back to her place. Standard story, “Baby you were so drunk, you better take it easy.” The boys may be a little loopy after this feeding, I think he gave her a bit too much.” The creepy guy replied.

You nearly started crying, you felt tears forming but you held on. She was still alive. They’d taken Patsy’s blood and were pumping it into what you now knew were a group of very real reanimates posing as a fake zombie metal band. The situation was surreal…and the fact you were wrapped in the arms of one of the undead while hiding in a coffin with him was the cherry on top.

“Looks like it’s still pumping them full of unleaded. Let’s go get some dinner, it should be done by then. I’ll get you your take.” Beardy said and you listened to their footsteps walking out of the room, the now familiar sound of the stuck door opening and then it being shut.

“Wait.” Mary’s voice was still barely a whisper. You waited, it felt like a long time but was probably less than a minute.

Mary kept one arm around your waist to keep you from bolting and with the other lifted the lid of the coffin slowly, his green eyes peering around the lid. When he was sure there was no one else in the room he released your waist, transferring his grip to your wrist, both of you stepping out of the casket onto the cheap carpet. You pulled at his hand, trying to get him to let go but he wouldn’t. He wasn’t hurting you, but his grip wasn’t letting go, an icy vice wrapped around your bones.

“Stop it.” He said, his normal voice surprisingly soft with just a trace of an accent you couldn’t place. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Tell…that…to my friend whose blood you were…” He wasn’t sucking it like a vampire you supposed. “Being pumped full of.” There…that was accurate.

His eyes narrowed. “I just hid you in my coffin from being caught…” His full lips thinned. “Or was that someone else I was packed in there with?”

Okay, he had a point. In fact he’d been your knight in shining leather a couple of times that evening. Once from faceplanting due to a drunk and just now…and whatever would have happened if you’d been discovered. But this night had spiraled into something crazy. You let out a frustrated half growl, but stopped pulling away, head falling in defeat. “UGH…I’m sorry for being completely fucking freaked out after my friend was drugged and drained of her blood to…feed you and I had to find out this way. I think I’m allowed to be freaked out.”

Mary Goore’s eyes glanced away for a moment, a look of almost embarrassment crossing his bloodied face. “You do have a right to be freaked out.” They replied and released your wrist. “I’m sorry…you…this shouldn’t be happening.”

You were once again surprised by how soft his voice was in comparison to the demonic growling he could summon at will on stage. You watched as he took a step away, pulling the needle still in his arm out with a jerk that made you wince. The wound didn’t bleed, and you could have sworn the pale skin around the puncture healed in front of you. You glanced back up at his face, watching as Mary ran his long fingers through his dark hair. His green eyes were large and stood out in the dark of the room.

“What…are you?” You asked in a hushed whisper, not even realizing the question was leaving your lips.

Mary turned to you, face haunted, a mix of bone white and blood red. “I’m the monster darling.” He said in a bitter tone, mocking smile on his mouth. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m the real deal. The walking dead.”

“But…you’re…well…I…” You couldn’t form the sentence.

“I’m able to fool you? Me and the boys fooled you all into thinking we’re still human?” He grinned then but it wasn’t a happy smile. His teeth were white, incisors sharp and glinting in what light there was. The black make up on his lips made them gleam even more. “That’s the whole thing sweetheart, we’re supposed to fool you. That’s what the boss wants. We have to be that good.”

You should be terrified and running for the door, but he’d done nothing himself to make you feel unsafe with him. You glanced away, not sure what to do, wanting to know what was going on. After another moment you asked. “Why? Why pretend?”

A strange look crossed his face. With a heavy sigh he fell into the couch against the wall, long legs stretched out before him. You hesitated, then carefully stepped over to set a little bit away from him on the plush cushions.

Mary glanced over at you. “Survival. That’s why.” They said at last. Mary leaned over to a small refrigerator that sat humming next to the couch. You heard the door open and shut and then he was handing you a can of unopened beer, keeping one for himself.

He popped the top and took a large swallow, resting the can over the exposed knee of his jeans. “You have to feed in this…life…unlife…whatever you want to call it. People hate you without giving it a second thought. Roy, the manager, he offered us a chance to fake it. Perfect cover, pretending to be what we actually are.”

You opened your own beer and drank down some of it. “Why does he do it?” You asked, voice unsteady.

Mary took a breath he didn’t need…it was out of habit. “We’re cheap. We’re desperate. We work for nearly no money and for blood.” He took another swig of beer, finishing the can and crushing it in his fingers. Mary tossed it with perfect aim at the trash can across the room. They turned to you with a wary gaze. “We can live on blood alone, we don’t need…meat. Only the really damaged ones do. The rest of the guys and I, we can pass for normal. We’re lucky. But something will always give us away. Roy, he keeps us fed with this routine. He and Chuck, they’ve got it down.”

“So…he keeps you fed and safe. Like pets?” You asked and immediately regretted it. You blamed the adrenaline and beer.

They weren’t offended, letting out a rueful laugh. “Yeah, like pets.” Those forest-colored eyes caught your gaze. “I’m sorry about your friend.” His gaze narrowed for a moment. “He won’t hurt the…donors. We’ve made it very clear to Chuck if that happens, he’s going to be the next one on the menu.”

Your eyes widened at that. You still couldn’t figure out why you weren’t screaming and running. But you still weren’t afraid of Mary. Maybe you were nuts. He apparently realized that wasn’t a comforting thing to say. Mary glanced down and twisted a skull shaped ring on his finger, then looked back at you. “You can’t…you can’t tell anyone about us.” His voice was lower, hesitant.

You swallowed a sudden dryness in your throat. Was this the threat now? “I won’t…I promise.” You drank down the rest of your beer, keeping your hands around the empty can to keep them from shaking.

You had seen how the “zombie haters” could react to something like this. Any reanimates that had managed to hide themselves in regular society got the worst treatment. Final deaths and all. And the only ones to get worse treatment were the living who helped them or were in love with them. Godless necrophiliacs, corpse fuckers, the descriptions were many. Even if it was a couple who had been together when the now reanimate of the duo had been alive. It didn’t matter to the hordes. You knew of at least two or three couples in the state that had met a fiery and mysterious end after it had come out. Those were just the ones you knew of, you assumed there were more.

So Mary or the rest of The Unearthed didn’t have to really explain much to you. You’d seen enough hate and what that hate could do. “I’ve seen what can happen.” You said finally.

Mary nodded, the devilock falling over his eye. “So have I.” he sounded weary.

You cocked an eyebrow up behind your glasses. “How did you…”

He gave a laugh and shook his head. “I know what your gonna ask. We don’t have time for that story.” Mary stood and held out a hand, gesturing at your beer. You handed it over and he repeated his actions of before, crushing it and tossing it perfectly into the trash. He turned back to you and held out his hand again. You placed your own in it and he helped you to stand.

“You need to go before he comes back.” Mary held onto your hand, his pale fingers cold against your own. “If he finds out you know about us, he’ll…” His emerald eyes looked away for a moment and you saw clearly now the veins change from red to black in his gaze as he stared at the door the two men had left through earlier. He turned back to you, the color fading to normal, but his expression was strained. “That can’t happen. You have to stay quiet. I’m probably an idiot but I think I can trust you.”

You shook your head and squeezed his icy fingers. “You can trust me. I’m probably an idiot too but I trust you.”

Mary actually laughed again, a genuine smile on his dark lips. “We’re two dumbasses together I guess.” He paused, still not letting go of your hand, the warmth welcome. He seemed to be pondering something and finally turned to the doorway and pulled you along. Mary yanked the door open an inch and peered out into the hall, checking the coast was clear. After he was sure he pushed it open and turned back to you.

“Go right and take the exit, you’ll have to go around the building to get to the parking lot, but you won’t run into anyone at this time of night.” He said, still keeping hold of your fingers.

“Okay, thank you.” You replied. Standing this close to him again, you could see the cracks forming in the fake blood dried on his face, his cheekbones gaunt in the shadows from what little light was there.

He smiled again, showing just the barest hint of what you could only call fangs now. “Don’t thank me…just remember what I said darling.”

You nodded and stepped into the hallway, but he still held your hand. You glanced back and saw the melancholy smile was still there. “We’re here all week.” Mary said, their voice hushed in the doorframe. “Maybe…maybe if you come back I’ll tell you a story.” He lifted your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles, then released it.

You gave him a small smile in return, nervous but oddly excited at the thought of seeing the undeath metal singer again. Quickly you headed in the direction you were told and found the exit door. Out in the cold night you headed around the building only one or two stragglers still around. There was now recorded music blaring out of the club which would be closing in an hour.

The events of the night were still running through your head when you finally got to your car. As you unlocked the door you saw Roy, the manager and the owner of the club returning, and you quickly got into your front seat and locked the door. You hit the start button and placed your hands on the steering wheel, fingers shaking from the fact you could have easily been discovered.

In the light of the dash you noticed a bloody lip print on your knuckles, a good night kiss from Mary Goore. Unable to help it, you smiled.

[princess-glassred]

I know I already have an au where Eddie and Henry swap bodies BUT that's only when they're adults, and I was wondering how it'd go with their parents, and the bowers gang, and school stuff. So here's how I think a Henry/Eddie body swap might go down when they're kids.

Let's start with Eddie!

-Eddie wakes up with an immediate tooth ache because Henry doesn't brush his teeth at all and they're a rotten. It's fuckin agonizing but he's able to deal with the pain.

-He goes into the kitchen to eat breakfast, but the sight of an empty table makes Eddie realize just how vastly different the parent-child dynamic is in the Bowers household. Eddie's mother smothers and spoils him so much she'd never forget a meal, but in the Bowers household, not only does Butch not make anything for him, but HE expects HENRY to cook. And so begins Eddie's exhausting and somewhat demaning list of chores Henry has to do everyday.

-He's not used to having to do so much, often times even if Eddie wants to help his mom will swat him away and insist he go play instead. He has to mow the lawn, weed the front yard, fetch eggs, tend to the crops, ect. Ect. It's kind of rewarding, but it's taxing as fuck. He also shows concern for Henry's skin since he apparently works in the sun all day without any sunscreen.

-This goes with out saying, but the unbearable stink of sweat and gum that's always on Henry makes Eddie wanna hurl. He gets pretty squicked out by sweat in general though, which is unfortunate because of the whole "working outside all morning thing".

-He also hates having to take care of Bip and Bop, since pigs are just about one of the grossest animals Eddie can think of. The fact Butch forces him to walk around in the mud and manure to tend to them just makes it so so much worse.

-Thankfully, Eddie doesn't have to deal with Butches anger for the most part, since he doesn't talk back like Henry and he's too scared to rebel in away.

-This is also a minor thing but the Bowers house is absolutely filthy, especially the living room and Henry's bedroom. He can't sit down anywhere.

-Finally, Eddie gets free and can fucking start looking for his friends to help him out. This is difficult though because Henry is actually banned from most places the losers club go, either for stealing stuff, breaking things, or threatening the people at them. He kinda just lurks in town for his oppertunity to catch them.

-Eddie's bigger and more muscular body is pretty much the only good thing about this predicament. He's so much taller now that it's actually kind of disorientating, and half the time he forgets his own strength.

-The Bowers gang eventually find him and drag him away to go shoot bottles and be dicks, and unsurprisingly, Eddie hates it.

-Patrick tries to make a move on him, Belch's behavior is disgusting, Vic's full of himself, and connor is just plain annoying.

-The way they try to egg him on is especially aggrivating, and unfortunately Eddie has to pretend like he, 1. Enjoys their stupid antics, and 2. Is Henry Bowers. Two things he is incredibly bad at.

-The one silver lining is that he gets to make some slight digs at Connor's expense as revenge for him being mean to Richie.

-Insterestingly enough, somehow, Patrick very quickly figures out he's not Henry, but that just makes him wanna hit on Eddie more. Of course the one person who figures it out is fucking Patrick of all people. Fuck.

-The way people look at Henry makes Eddie feel sick and even a little guilty. He knows he's not Henry, so he shouldn't have to feel guilty for what he's done, but the way kids stare at him in town really makes him think. Mike looks at him with such fear, he cannot help but feel awful and like it's somehow his fault. Bill sneers at him, Bev is digusted by his presence, Ben avoids him in the hallway he's so scared. It's horrible, and it really just emphasizes how badly Eddie wants to be himself again.

-While hanging out with the Bowers gang they try to force him to bully some kids, so he just sputters put some weird vauge threats that don't really mean anything if you think about them for more than a second.

-"We should go bully the losers!" "Yeah!" "Awesome idea!" "YEAH HAHAHA THAT WOULD BE SOOOO EPIC OORRRR, HEAR ME OUT, AN EVEN BETTER IDEA, WE DO SOMETHING ELSE!"

Now for Henry's turn!

-Henry wakes up and is immediately shocked by his tiny, fragile, uncalloused little doll hands.

-He's so much weaker and smaller now, and he gets injured much easier than before. He does take notice of Eddie's clean teeth though and uses it as an excuse to eat whatever the hell he wants with no fear of a tooth ache.

-Dude absolutely hates having normal hair, fuckin sucks.

-He also hates everything Eddie wears, finding his shirts and t shirts pretty feminine and weird lookin. Henry would rather chew on glass than ever wear a fanny pack, but Sonia insists he take it.

-Sonia Kaspbrak's smothering quickly goes from nice to incredibly annoying. She pinches his cheeks, forces him to hug her, calls him little pet names, Henry hates it.

-A lot of people call him cute now (Richie included), and the only thing more infuriating than that is the fact he can't really fight back.

-At school he tries to be his usual smug asshole self and he's quickly hung to his locker by his underwear. If it weren't for the losers he could have very well just stayed there all day.

-Belch, Patrick, and Vic all jump his ass and bully him, causing Henry to freak the fuck out and SWEAR he's gonna kick their butts when he gets back to normal.

-He tries to tell the losers to piss off, but everything he tries to do to drive them away only makes them more concerned for Eddie, and thus, makes them wanna reach out more.

-The constant array of pills Sonia forces him to take quickly pisses him off. The inhaler is even worse because he can FEEL Eddie doesn't need it, but his mom practically forces it down Henry's throat.

-He takes all of Richie's jokes SO personally, it's enough to make Richie honestly a little scared.

-Because Eddie's so much smaller than he is there's a load of annoying little moments where he can't reach something or lift something on his own, so he has to get one of the losers to help. The fact every loser is taller than him now fills him with almighty rage, especially Bev.

-The novelty of slipping by undetected and feigning innocence wears thin fast, as Henry misses when he was feared and not overtly condescended and babied by strangers.

-He tries to get his hands on a weapon at one point, since if he can't be strong at least he could compensate with knives and shit, but Sonia snatches it away from him real fast.

-Henry can't even decide if he wants people to know it's him anymore, at some point it just gets so embarrassing he'd rather try to fake being Eddie. At least if people expect Eddie to get pushed around, if anyone knew it was Henry he'd never live all the bullying down.

I'm not sure how this would get resolved or even how this happened in the first place, but I still think this would he a wickedly funny thing to see happen with these two. Right?

[zombiewhor3]

PUSHING BACK

carl grimes x fem reader

WARNINGS: couples argument, mentions of main character death, mentions of Negan, angst ig,

A/N: i absolutely hate the way this chapter turned out and tbh and this isn't edited, so if it doesn't do well on herei'll probably end up deleting it i just need something to keep my activeness up or else my account just dies so enjoy this angsty carl one shot!

-

she sat on the porch, her hands tugging at the roots of her hair and she could feel her nails digging at skin of her scalp she felt like she was going to go crazy looking at the boy who stood in front of her.

"Are you out of your damn mind Carl?!" she yelled pulling her hands to the sides of her hips as she licked over her lips and she could feel her face getting hot from how flustered she was.

"it doesn't matter y/n" he remarked back while adjusting the sheriff's hat that rested on his head, she swallowed harshly before she spoke back making sure she used the right words.

"It does matter Carl! you snuck into the sanctuary! you left and you lied to me and the others! what would you do if he killed you? if he killed one of us because you made the mistake of going against him!"

she lectured at him almost feeling like he hadn't been listening because he rubbed over his face and seemed to remain silent which had only made her continue her rant.

"he could've came back and killed one of us like he did to Glenn, Abraham, Spencer and Olivia, we can't watch another person die!"

Carl slammed his hand down onto the wooden railing of the porch at her words and he cocked his head slightly at her.

"he deserved it, he deserved to die and i wanted to be the one to kill him because no one else will, everyone just wants to sit back and let him take control of everything we have!" Carl shouted so loud that it was clear that the whole town of Alexandria surely heard him.

the surely heard how he spewed out his hatred,

"and you think i don't think about putting a bullet in him everyday?! you think i'm okay with him killing all these people and walking free Carl? because you know if i had the chance i'd kill him"

she could see him take in a deep breath as he still tried to keep hos calm, as he still tried to refrain from pouring out the anger that lingered inside him at her.

"if i killed him maybe we still wouldn't be stuck here like this, we wouldn't have to provide for him or work for him and we wouldn't have to see anyone else die!"

she knew he was right but yet again he was wrong, what he was doing was dangerous, his plan to go on a man hunt and to really kill the man in charge could get him hurt or even worse doing this could get him killed, and he'd just be another body to bury.

she had a slight water in her eyes and somehow she shoved it back she shoved the harsh lump down her throat and her eyes seemed to manage to toss back some of the tears.

because she was angry, she was so furious that she could practically feel her veins boil and her head start to pound with each and every word that had slipped out from her tongue.

"what if you died? what if it went south like it did and instead of him showing you around and handing you back he placed you in a cell like Daryl? or what if he bashed your head in or made one of his men leave you as a god damn walker what would i do? how would i feel hearing the news that you were gone Carl!"

now it was like the rage had turned into sadness, a sadness that even if she tried she couldn't hold it back, she couldn't hold back the flood of tears and the sobs that spilled from her throat.

"you have a home here, you have a sister and a father that sure as hell won't be able to live with the idea you died, hell you know how scared we all were when he almost made Rick chop your arm? you know how much i begged and begged for him not to"

he was soaking in her words and he hadn't said anything but wrapped his arms around her, he made sure to pull her closer and she could feel the warmth of his soft embrace.

"i'm not going anywhere, i'm not dead and i don't plan on dying, no more stupid ideas, no more running off but we will fight him even if it takes all of our men and this entire city i swear someone will kill him and i just hope it's soon" Carl stroked over her hair and he had taken his hat off so he could get a good glance of her.

the strands of hair ran through his fingers and she took in a deep breath feeling the cotton of his shirt run against the soft flesh of her cheeks that were stained with tears.

"please Carl i can't lose you, not after Glenn i just can't" she could feel her eyes blink and a few tears slipped off the tear coated lashes and out onto the cotton fabric of his flannel.

his hand still stroked her hair and he managed to place a seat down on the bench behind them, he placed her in his lap and shushed her as she sniffled against his shoulder,

"i'm not going anywhere, i'm right here, i'm gonna stay in Alexandria" he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head and with a soft pat on her back he lifted her to stand in front of him and as she looked down at him with her teary eyes he placed a small smile on his face.

"we're right here y/n, and we always will be"

[sizzlinbaconpeach]

Thank you all so much!

Your wonderful comments about the comic are very appreciated and dear to my heart! I'm so glad you all enjoy this little labor of Valenfield love. We all know they have such juicy angst to draw from, so it made my job easier (and references, sooo much reference used) :P

As a bonus, this post includes some of the ideas/pieces for the comic (including some that were cut) and other tasty tidbits.

While I like some of the pages below, it just wasn't coming together the way I wanted. So I took a look at the dream sequence again and determined to elaborate more on the initial embrace.

So below is the work in progress that had me stumped for MONTHS. I kept trying to think about how I wanted to draw it, but ultimately, an inspiration struck for the first hug and I decided to scrap this idea. Though I really like some of the pictures that came out of it.

Also, a page that was cut from the final. We (my sister and I) felt like the ending was better without it. We wanted to leave some ambiguity, whereas with these pages they are definitely leaning in for a kiss.

Reference. Reference. Reference. There was so much reference used for this comic. It made it turn out so much better, too! And finally, the script is included below. (Hopefully this can be helpful to any of the non-English speakers!)

[Chris visits Jill at the lab facility while she is under testing] Chris: ...I still hate seeing you hooked up to that thing. When will they take you off it? Jill: Dr. Garrison said it should only be another week or so. Chris: [slightly irked] Really, another week? Haven’t they put you through enough? Jill: Oh, it’s not so bad... You get used to it. Chris: Well, I certainly haven’t... Jill: Always such a worry-wart, you know that? Chris: Hey, can you blame me? Jill: [playfully shrugs] Nah. Chris and Jill share a chuckle. [Beat] Chris: ... You know, I ... I never had the guts to really say it. To tell you... ... how I really feel... about... everything. Jill: Ha. You tell me everyday, Chris. I know - you hate this hunk of junk I’m hooked up to! I’m surprised you haven’t given it the boulder treatment yet. Chris: [shakes head and smirks] Tch... [quiet pause] ... How about the blood work? Have they found anything new? Jill: No, not since last week, but they’re still drawing blood here and there to be sure. Chris: [sighs, shaking head] Jill: They’re just trying to be thorough, Chris. Chris: ... I know, I know... I just... I don’t like seeing you treated like their test-subject. Jill: Chris, I consented to this. It’s for the greater-good. You of all people should understand that. Chris: [sigh] I know... But... It’s just that... Ah, forget it. Jill: I’m alright, really. Chris: [shakes his head, but smiles at Jill] Somehow I knew you’d say that. The whole world could be falling apart around you with the worst stroke of luck, yet you’d still insist that you’re ‘alright’. Jill: Well, I have been alright... I’m still kicking, aren’t I? Besides, it could always be worse. Chris: Worse? Considering all that you’ve been through, I’m not sure “worse” is possible for you. I don’t even want to think of that... Jill: Oh, it is possible... Chris: Tsh, is that so? Jill: Yeah... for instance, I... [gazing into Chris’ eyes] I could have lost you... Chris: [gazes back] [husky whisper] I’m not going anywhere... Jill: [smiles, whispers back] I know. [quiet as they continue to smile at one another] [Chris glances down, appearing to convince himself to say something] Chris: Jill, I... I don’t -- I hate what’s happened to you... And I hate that I wasn’t able to stop it sooner. Jill: Don’t beat yourself up, Chris. None of this is your fault. Chris: I can’t help but feel responsible though... I wasn’t strong enough to take him down that night... to protect you. Losing you... it was like... living a nightmare I could never wake up from. Jill: Chris... Chris: I miss you... I miss you by my side. I hate what Wesker has taken from you, from me - from us. I don’t ever want to lose you again. I don’t mean to be a downer, I just -- I hate seeing you like this - the reminder of what’s happened, of what he’s done... ... Because... well... [sigh] I... I don’t want to lose anymore than we already have, but I -- how do I put this... I need to tell you... that I... Jill: [holds Chris’ hand] Chris. Chris: ? Jill: [gazes/smiles] I love you, too. Chris: [gazes/smiles back]

[goodmiffy]

What books would you recommend to convert someone to radical feminism? 🙏

That kind of depends where she is starting from, but here’s my stepping stones:

1. Invisible women - caroline criado perez - because it’s both incredibly impactful (like completely change how you see everything level impact) and also very digestible to someone new to analytical feminism. there is no avoiding the fact that it is femaleness that is oppressed, hated and punished.

2. Everyday sexism - Laura bates - digestible, relatable, and yet somehow optimistic. a good starting point for being more observant of sexism all around and wanting to be more proactive about it. this book is in my opinion too forgiving of men (like claiming sexism hurts men too (barf) but even in that there’s a decent critique of gender roles, and the male pandering doesn’t take away from the overall discussion and observations of sexism

3. The beauty myth - Naomi Wolf - had to be on the list! changed a lot for me in terms of how i considered beauty culture and even though it’s from the 1990s you can easily apply the same frameworks and actually it highlights how much worse things arguably are now re beauty expectations than they were then. not just an analysis of beauty trends but an excellent critique of capitalism

4. Living dolls by Natasha Walter. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone mention this on radblr actually but to me it’s become a staple critique of female socialisation, biological determinism, and the buzzwords designed to convince women the road to empowerment is products. It’s from 2009 but it’s as relevant as ever if not more so. also so ahead of its time re men getting porntrot. if you are reading this do not ignore this recommendation

5. Feminism is for everybody - bell hooks - not explicitly 2nd wave but a really concise focus on conscious raising, sisterhood and intersectionality (race and class). what’s more this one gives solutions and emphasises cantering women!

Honourable mention: Women and power: a manifesto - Mary beard - this is such an easy little book so there’s really no excuses for not reading it, say if you gifted her it 👀 short but succinct lectures that highlight the pervasive misogyny that actively silences women and keeps us powerless. maybe it’s too short and underdeveloped, tbh it doesn’t aim high enough in my opinion but i think it’s good as a stepping stone

honestly I’d recommended dworkin after the likes of these because i personally find her less ‘digestible’ (especially because her works are pre 2000 and modern readers seemingly struggle to cope with that!) and she doesn’t mince words so women who are easily put off by hard truths might just give up. with dworkin start with woman hating, imo.

and when she’s ready, THE SCUM MANIFESTO

I don’t know much fiction to subtly ignite radical feminist ideas other than: The Handmaids tale, Parable of the sower, and The power

hope this helps 🩷

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 10 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: wheewoo. it's been a while, and I hope you guys - whoever still reads this - enjoy this. I'm so so sorry for taking so long. We're nearing the end. iykyk. (warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of the apocalypse and atomic bombs, mentions of death, wwii) (word count: 4.5K)

ten: coffee

The aroma of coffee filled your nostrils as you stirred awake. You stretched your limbs on your bed as the soft sunrays of the early morning entered through the window.

Your feet made little noise as you padded towards the smell, though you knew Bucky’s super-soldier ears would pick it up anyway.

“Mornin’.” The husk of his voice, of his first word of the day, made your heart skip a beat. It was like a record you could keep forever on repeat.

You were almost glad he kept his back turned so he didn’t see you bite your lip and subsequently roll your eyes at your own reaction.

“Good morning.” You say it back once you get to the kitchen, smiling at him as you watched him move around. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. Here.” He slid a mug to you and took one for himself, seemingly satisfied with his job as you see him give a little nod after a sip.

You whispered your thanks and brought the drink to your lips, feeling the warmth of it through the ceramic. The reaction was immediate – as soon as you tasted it, your nose crinkled.

It’s sweet, the gesture itself surely was sweet. It’s too damn sweet.

Bucky had put sugar into the coffee pot.

“I cannot believe you.”

Your guilty, deer-in-headlights eyes looked up at him, who’s staring at you with a bewildered frown.

“It’s fine—”

“No!”

“I barely— I’ll still drink it!” You took another sip, licking your lips in sequence.

So. Much. Sugar.

“You can’t even pretend you don’t hate it.” He said, shaking his head. “And you call yourself a spy? With that face?”

“I was one,” You clicked your tongue. “All this time and you didn’t learn how to make coffee properly.”

“This is— it’s practical.” He rolled his eyes, sipping his sugary coffee. You followed. “Stop it.”

“I’m drinking it! You made it for me.” It wasn’t how your old-habits-self preferred it, but you have had it worse. Although somehow, that was making Bucky more annoyed instead of appeasing him.

He glared at you indignantly when you tell him you’re doing it to show your appreciation, then setting the mug down when he huffed. “What now?”

“Nothing.” Bucky stared at your ceiling and you at his profile. You tilted your head when he sighed. “…stupid thing to be arguing about.”

“We argue about stupid things all the time.” You took the coffee in your hands, but didn’t drink. “Argue-d?”

“Still do. Like when I tied your arm sling too tight.”

You grumbled that it was indeed too god-damned tight, and Bucky chuckled.

In truth, you had missed this. Even the bickering, yes, how the two of you were too stubborn to give in their very specific ways of doing everyday things. It made you feel alive, like you too had been frozen on ice with your two best friends.

One sip from you and Bucky was licking his teeth. He was faking the outrage, you could tell as you grinned at him.

 “If Steve was here—” You started, making him turn to you with a resigned smile.

“He’d just fix everything. Mediate, the Stevie thing he used to do. He hated us arguing.”

Disturbed his peace.

“I suppose now someone’s gotta...?”

The phone chimed before you could finish your sentence. It was Sam.

You coming, Top Gun?

You chewed at your nail as you read the words, transmitting them on to Bucky next to you. He nodded, cursing under his breath that he’d agreed to this cookout in the first place.

Bring Robocop with you.

You assured Sam – and Bucky too – he’d be there.

“I’ll complain the whole time.”

“That’s okay. He knows how you are already,” You joked, leaving the kitchen with your coffee in hand. He wouldn’t complain, at least not the entire time. You could see him having a fairly good time with Sam’s family and friends, even if he’d insist he wasn’t a people person anymore.

Before you disappeared into your room to pack, you turned to look at Bucky again. He was watching you from the kitchen counter, a small smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

Then it hit the realization that he’d stayed over. Actually stayed, and still made no signs of wanting to leave. You wondered if he had noticed that and didn’t care or if it was an inertia driven thing. One thing you knew: Bucky looked right where he belonged between your yellow kitchen tiles and mid-century cabinets. With his overly sweet coffee and darkened eyebags and sagging, tired, relaxed shoulders.

“What are you wearing?”

“A sundress. And a hat.” You smoothed the fabric, checking yourself one last time before you two left the hangar.

“I know it’s a dress, but—”

“Then why are you asking?” This made Bucky huff, his metal fingers tightening over the cake packaging.

Who brings birthday cake to a cookout? He grumbled about how it’s so much skin. You ignored it, because he didn’t have the right to complain about your attire, considering his own. “Listen, you might like getting a heatstroke with all that leather, but it’s warm today so I’m going to wear my dress.”

“Yeah, yeah, diss the jacket. But don’t come runnin’ after me when you get cold later.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

It was a short walk to the docks and the small crowd that were Sam’s friends and family. The welcome that was given by the new Captain America’s closest warmed your heart – soon enough, you and him were mingling, eating, giggling on a corner with Sarah about how all the kids and some adults were completely smitten with Bucky. She teased about how you were, too.

Even the cake was somewhat of a success. Bucky made sure to throw that on your face.

The day breezed by, and you only noticed the passing of time when fireflies started twinkling as the sun disappeared behind the river.

 “This doesn’t look like your jacket.” Sam hummed, joining you at a picnic table, a smirk on his face. You threw a lemon slice at him.

Bucky’s jacket felt heavy over your body. The warmth you got from it probably showed on your cheeks, but you had no intention of facing the chill of the night with bare shoulders now that it was offered to you.

“Shut it.”

“Just sayin’, just sayin’.” He laughed. You shook your head, casually sipping your cranberry limeade. “And all you had to do was look mildly cold. He left me talking to myself to put that over you.”

You smiled. There was no denying how that made you feel; especially to Sam Wilson who was now giving you an eyebrow wiggle.

Your smile dropped a little.

“Sam…I can’t.” You sighed. “Not now. Things are finally good as they are, and—”

“Are they?”

Sam was looking at you, in that Sam way that looked right into your soul.  You felt small, like you were maybe, ten, and not a-hundred-and-six years old.

“Yes. I just got him back. I already made the wrong call once, and I won’t do it again. Heartache be damned. I lived 70 years of it, hopeless and this… this is more than what I could ask for. Things are good.” You let out a breathless sigh. “Golly, say something before I start rattling on again.”

“Wow, that makes you sound so...” Sam started laughing when you kicked his shin, and amidst your own laughter you confirmed that yes, you were in fact old. “I was gonna say vintage!”

“And speaking of vintage,” He continued, and that’s when you finally realized the song that was playing.

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm so lucky to be loving you

People around you were saying oohs and aahs, couples new and old gathering to dance below the string lights while you glared at Sam. “You planned this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me. Look behind you.”

A hand was extended in your direction when you turned.

So lucky to be

Bucky was grinning down at you while you stared at him, dumbfounded. “C’mon, sugar. Don’t leave me hangin’, yeah?”

You took his hand quickly, shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and then you two stepped into to the spontaneous dance floor that had formed.

The one you run to see

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” He said and you looked at him, so beautiful under the dim lights. “Sorry if I step on your feet.”

All you could do was gaze at him, still a bit in awe as he swayed you to Margaret Whiting’s voice. He raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Nothin’. You’re going back to your old ways, then?” You grinned, averting his eyes. “Know who you’re dancing with next?”

He tightened his grip on your waist and you pretended it didn’t make your chest tight.

“No one. I just figured we should… for old times,”

“Right.” You bit your lip. He was staring, and that feeling of being a teenager in love hit again.

“And it’s a good change from all that R&B.”

You laughed.

You've kept my love so young, so new

He made the pair of you spin around, and your eyes met Sarah’s from across the room. She was standing next to the speaker, giving you a thumbs up.

The little shit.

You turn your head, your cheeks reddening as you attempt to hide away in Bucky’s shoulder.

The Wilsons and their meddling. A family of wingmen.

Your new position didn’t help things, because the smell of Bucky’s cologne and the way he pulled you flush against him had your heart beating wildly inside your ribcage.

His was too. You could feel it, almost hear it this close.

You told yourself it was from the audience you only now were noticing. The other pairs were gone, leaving just the two of you dancing. You looked up at him, finally.

“Buck.”

He hummed, meeting your gaze. His eyes had a sparkle to them. Something different in the blue. Something secret.

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

Your lips parted, words at the tip of your tongue.

So lucky to be loving you

“You guys want another song?” Sam’s voice cut through the crowd, and pulled you from whatever daze you had been caught in.

Bucky grumbled and you stepped back, the wind chilly on your back now that you were out of his embrace.

You felt cemented to the floor, caught and exposed. The arms you had been safely tucked in gone from around you. Only turned when Bucky stomped past you, nearly knocking shoulders with Sam in the process.

Some wingman he was.

People returned to the dance floor as soon as a dancey 80’s ballad blasted through the speaker. Your dance partner from a minute ago nowhere to be seen. “I’m here to rescue you,” Sarah took your hand, leading you away from the eye of the hurricane.

They managed to squeeze three songs in before the rain started. Bucky’s sudden sour mood seemed to have summoned the clouds, now pouring themselves noisily over the tent you had sheltered under.

“I guess I ruined the mood, huh?”

“Goodness grief, Sam.” You chided, wrapping your arms around yourself. The chill now biting harder with the rain. “There was no mood. Everyone was watching. He’s—”

Embarrassed. “Self-conscious. You know.”

Sam nodded, and you went back to scanning your surroundings for any signs of Bucky.

“There was a little mood though.”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry!”

You were ready to berate him some more when you were enveloped in something warm, your eyes seeing leather and metal before you could turn and see Bucky, right at your back.

Soaked. To the bone, water dripping from him as he helped tighten the jacket around your shoulders. “James—!”

“’M sorry about earlier. I—” He then looked behind you, seemingly noticing the other people also huddled under the tent.

Sam was looking everywhere but at the two of you. He murmured something like Not here. Not even here.

“You wanna go?” You offered quietly, and Bucky’s eyes softened in gratitude.

“You guys can’t fly in this weather!” Sam poked his head at your side, and as if to hammer his point down thunder rumbled above all of you.

Suddenly even you felt too crammed and claustrophobic in the middle of everyone else. You were sure Bucky did too, his fingers tightening on your shoulders as the rain picked up.

“It’s fine. I’m used to—”

“He’s right. We can go back tomorrow.” Bucky rolled his eyes when Sam looked at him in shock, and you chuckled.

“Wait wait wait. Can you repeat that? On record—”

“No.”

“Sam…”

“Fine.” He tutted, and you sighed. ”You guys want to stay at the house?”

“No.” Bucky repeated, and you surprised yourself with the relief that hit you. “We’ll get a hotel or somethin’.”

“Carlos can drive y’all to the Monte Carlo? He’s going too.”

You couldn’t be more thankful for Sarah right now.

You used Bucky’s jacket to cover your head as the two of you ran from Carlos’ truck to the Monte Carlo Motel. A quick wave at him and you were inside, making your clumsy ways to the reception.

The girl behind the desk looked warily at Bucky and his soaked self, although it could also be because of the exposed metal arm.

“Hi, uh—one double room?”

You and Bucky blurted out a panicked no at the same time, locking eyes as the receptionist scrambled for another key. Then you also handed her a credit card at the same time.

“I got it.”

“Buck, it’s fine, I can—”

He scowled. “No. Said I got it.” He placed his metal hand on top of yours with your card and slid his own across the desk. You stared at him, schooling your facial expression to not show the surprise on your face. Nothing you could do about the color on your cheeks, though.

He sensed your eyes on him and looked at you, making you bite your lip. It’s like you’d forgotten how dominating he could be, and how it made you feel some type of way.

You blinked it away.  “You gonna ask for a vet discount? Senior?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Are you?”

“No one would believe me.”

“But would believe me?”

“You have that old man grouchiness to ya.” You said, shrugging. He shot you one of his glares.

“Iraq?” The receptionist pulled you two away from the bickering, giving Bucky’s card back and two room keys.

“Normandy,” Answered simultaneously, earning a chuckle out of you. She shot you a disbelieving smile.

“Told you she wouldn’t believe me.” You quipped as you went up the stairs.

“Oh, come on.”

You laughed, elbowing him playfully once you reached him at the top of the stairs. “She would’ve if she knew your music taste.”

“My music taste?” You squinted.

“I wasn’t listening to Vera Lynn on a random Thursday night.”

“That’s ‘cus you can’t operate a Bluetooth speaker.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing in annoyance. It came easy to you, the provocations, a much palatable feeling than the awkwardness from before. Bucky then turned to assess which way your rooms were in, leaving you to follow him as he trudged through the corridor.

He stopped in front of the 304, handing you one of the keys. “Mine is at the other side of the building I’m guessing.” The numbers 323 shown on his own keychain proved that to you.

It was both comforting and disappointing that you wouldn’t be sharing a wall.

“Alright,” You said, opening the door.

“Y/N, I—Sorry about earlier. About leaving like that.” He let out a heavy breath when you turned to look at him, hand on the doorknob.

“It’s okay. I’ve never been the greatest dancer.” You shot him a crooked grin, and he shook his head, expression still solemn.

“It wasn’t you— I panicked. The starin’…” He cast his eyes down, at his feet, and you gave his bicep a squeeze.

“I know. Nerve wracking,” You said softly, still a bit restless from earlier. “I loved dancing with you though.”

Bucky raised his gaze, meeting your own. Lips parted. Eyes darting down to lips. Nodded once. “Me too, sugar.”

You smiled. The words almost falling from the tip of your tongue again.

“I—”

“I should— get to my room,”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“G’night, then.”

You hummed. “Night, Buck.”

You had to fight the urge to slide down the door once you closed it, after watching his frame disappear around the corner.

The confession had almost come out of you, almost ruining everything. It was enough how you felt, how your pulse raced. How your fingers burned, wanting to touch. Those words were the one thing you managed to keep together.

90 years and counting.

You hoped, prayed – at whichever entity that lived above the ceiling – for sleep to take you before you could lose control of everything.

It was supposed to be a secret mission, with slim possibility of return. You and two other WASP pilots were to fly over Belgium and drop supplies to the men resisting at the Ardennes, knowing there was no chance the Luftwaffe wouldn’t bomb you as you crossed over their skies. The hundreds of men running out of food and medical supplies, struggling to resist Germany’s attacks, left you no option.

The three of you knew this would to be the outcome. You were ready to die trying.

“Goddamnit, Webster!” You shouted to yourself, Maggie’s intercoms no longer functioning as her cockpit was blown to smithereens from a German plane’s bomb.

There was only you and them in the air now, Dana Miller lost on the fly in. You could only hope her aircraft was the only casualty.

Thunder boomed right beside you. Except it was an array of shots that had destroyed your right turbine, causing your plane to lean comically to one side. Comically, yes, because laughs bubbled desperately out of your chest at the sight.

A few more miles and you’d be out of German occupied territory.

You only had to keep it together a little longer.

When gaining altitude became a lost battle to simply trying to keep your plane in the air, the Germans were nowhere to be seen. The RAF zooming by seconds later made you breathe a sign of relief.

You knew from the start returning home was unlikely. It mattered very little. One of your dog tags had lost its pair to the Alps. Steve had told you through radio before the rumors could reach you.

Bucky wasn’t coming home. What on Earth would be left for you if you did?

You grasped the chain around your neck as your plane plummeted towards the Belgian grass fields. The world at its end.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three—

You woke with a start, gasping for air as if you’ve been held underwater for too long. The covers had been kicked off you during the night, but even without them you still felt hot and choked up.

It’s been a long time since those kinds of dreams disturbed your sleep, you managing to keep them at bay enough that it was rare when they came now. Never unfamiliar though.

With a long sigh, you tried to pull it together. Washed your face in the sink. Drank some water and eyed the mini liquor bottles in the fridge. None worked. The sense of urgency overpowered you.

The feeling that everything was collapsing; that your plane was crashing over Belgium, half of it on fire, your sisters in arms gone, your two best friends gone.

You left your room with Bucky’s jacket held tightly against your chest, barely feeling the chill of the humid night air as you made your way down to the reception or wherever you could find something to distract you.

You found him on the landing after the first flight of stairs, leaning against the railing.

“Hey,” You called out softly, and Bucky turns to you in surprise. It goes away as soon as it comes, the moment he understands.

“Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “Bad dream.” You explained, and he nodded. Extended a paper cup in your direction, not saying anything. You took it gratefully, pausing before the first sip. “Did you—?”

Bucky gave you a tired smirk. “Two sugars, sugar. Still shit though.”

The pet name made you bite your lip. “Can’t be worse than Army coffee,” You shrugged. He was right though. It was shit. Tasted terribly, even worse than Bucky’s brew in the morning.

He chuckled bitterly at the face you made; his tone still light despite it. “And you still complain about mine.”

“Both taught me to appreciate the good coffees in life.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, and you both laughed. You shift, alternating the balance from one foot to the other. Wonder if you should say it.

Best friends don’t keep those things from each other. Best friends talk about their nightmares.

“It was a memory.”

Bucky blinked. Turned to watch your profile. “A memory?”

You hummed. It’s strange, talking about it— it’s not something you’re used to sharing anymore, not even with Steve. Some intimacies were so reserved to Bucky that you forgot you could do them with someone else.

“From when my plane crashed in Belgium. When I became ‘MIA’. Well, at least that’s the story S.H.I.E.L.D. made up while I was recovering from the serum.” Bucky’s eyes were soft when you looked at him finally. “Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”   

Best friends don’t look at each other like that.

“They’re worse than nightmares.” Bucky stepped closer. “To me, at least. It feels… real. Like we’re back there, reliving it again.”

You nodded. Shifted closer, so close you and him were shoulder to shoulder. “It felt like the world was ending.” Shaky breath escaped bitten lips. “Still does.”

“It’s not.” He shook his head as if he’d said the wrong thing. “If it was, we’d know. Two suns in the horizon. See?”

Bucky flexed his fingers, brushing with yours gently. Your eyes followed the horizon he was pointing at with his metal arm, where a single sun began to peek through in orange and purple.

“It did end though, didn’t it? When my plane crashed. When you fell off the train. It ended with the Blip and it ended with Steve,”

He shook his head. “We wouldn’t be here if it had. We’re still here.”

“Not as we were.”

“No. Not as we were.” He sighed, leaning against the railing. His fingers at a distance. Suddenly you felt the need for the jacket. “D’ja think we missed our window, Y/N?”

His question took you by surprise. You blinked, tightening his jacket around you. “I’ve always wanted you with me at the end.”

Bucky frowned, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Not Steve, not anyone else. You. But you weren’t there.”

“What—I wanted you too, but—”

“But I wasn’t there. We missed each other’s ends of the world.”

He shook his head, his eyes scanning your face. Confusion and incredulity stamped so very clearly in his features. You shifted and continued.

“So maybe that’s why it didn’t end. That’s why we’re still here. Maybe… maybe this is our window.”

Realization dawned on him while you bit your tongue. Confession at the tip of it.

A smile softened the lines on his forehead and brightened his eyes. “What if they nuke us right now?”

“Then I’m glad I left my room tonight.”

Bucky offered his hand, splayed open next to you. Your fingers interlaced with his and warmth spread through your body.

“No regrets, sugar?”

“None.” Just the one. You hid your face on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat on your cheeks or the way your heartbeat picked up.

But that had been a long time ago. Maybe that window was truly lost. But you had this. And if the fiery hues in the sky were from an Armageddon and not the sun, there’s nowhere else you wanted to be.

Bucky kissed the top of your head. Wordlessly telling me too.

You raised your eyes at him, almost saying it. Almost loving him out loud.

“Sugar, I—”

Breath caught, hope spiking. “Yeah?”

A long exhale. “…we should try and sleep. Brooklyn’s a long way from here.”

Disappointment squeezed your heart. Foolish. What else could you be expecting?

“Alright.” You reluctantly got up, handing his jacket back. Not even that could protect you from the icyness at the pit of your stomach.

“No, keep it.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Red creeping up his neck from under the henley. “You can give it back tomorrow…”

You nodded. Your shoes looked very interesting as you wrapped the jacket around your shoulders again. “Okay. Good night, Buck.”

“Night, sugar.”

You walked away with weighted feet, as if fighting some kind of gravity that pulled you back to that spot next to him on the stairs. Not turning to see if there was an atomic sun lighting up the slow sunrise. Dissolving the world, only for it to reform again and throw you two back where you had always been.

The war. The train. The Blip. Steve.

This night.

Frustration made you hands shake as they hovered over the doorknob. How long could you stand to orbit him, and never make it to the destination? Nothing is made to fly forever.

One regret.

You have always been bold and brazen, except for this. Facing every challenge, fighting every fight, except battling this one fear.

Not this night.

Pretending the light in the horizon signaled the end and your time was running out, you ran back to where you had left Bucky. Relived that afternoon in England when you’d be separated in the morning and you should’ve run back to him. Summoning every ounce of courage the serum had left in your body.

Your resolve was set when Bucky himself rounded the corner. Blue eyes wild and dark brows knitted together in unruly urgency.

“Bucky! I—”

You managed a couple extra steps in his direction when he closed the distance between you, grabbing your face with flesh and metal.

A huff of surprise as you braced for collision.

It came in the form of a kiss, lips crashing into each other, the taste of yearning and coffee on your tongue.

You’d already taken the damn fall.

[alex31624]

Duck Comic Reading Club Week 19: Paperinik New Adventures: Extraordinary Repairs

Ok, Camera, Action wasn't good, but I'm sure PK will be back on track with this issue. Let's go…

Oh God no… is Gianmarco Villa, the guy from Urk, the worst looking issue so far…

Why I have to keep suffering?

That was my actual first impression, but as I kept reading I realize that this issue looks pretty good. The problems of Urk aren't here. I apologize Mr. Villa.

The story begins with Angus reporting how PK stopped a criminal, but not in his usual way. He was a bit more profesional. That of course made everyone freak out. Angus Fangus, a professional reporter? Must be sick.

But the kiwi has a possible scoop. He knows that Everett Ducklair disappeared every now and then, and he has a way into his secret lair. His boss shutted down the idea, afraid of the legal consequence.

Here, I have to give credit to Angus, he's a jerk, but has guts.

This intrusion doesn't go unnoticed. Angus shenanigans cut Uno access to some levels, and our favorite IA sent PK to the rescue.

And here comes what I think is the best part of the story. Camera 9.

I didn't get the Camera 9 love at first, but a mysterious retired fearless photographer, you have to love him.

He saw PK and his instincts kick in. He has to follow a story when is right in front of him.

Fangus kept tapping any button in front of him and that causes some problems for PK. He was about to be crushed but he was saved last second.

Camera 9 introduced himself as Stefan Vladuck, and I'm betting my brother-in-law's arm that that's an alias. Anyway, PK now has a partner.

Meanwhile, Angus made a terrible discover.

Look, I hate Angus, but, if you find a scientific millionaire genius' secret lair full of crazy weapons, you're gonna make assumptions. Is fair to think that Everett Ducklair is planning a massive attack.

Back to PK and Stefan, they're attacked by the security system. The action in this issue is perfectly drawn. Once again, I apologize Mr. Villa.

I've seen much worse.

Please, someone tell me that there's a huge one shot about Camera 9 life.

Then, we found the greatest weapon in Everett's arsenal.

THAT'S A FREAKING MECHA T-REX!

Holy mother of God, that's so freaking amazing. PK! Take that T-Rex and go fight crime!

Angus is convinced that Everett is trying to take over the town, and his absence is a facade. And here, he turned on is fanfiction writer powers and said that Everett is PK.

Is so funny he said that Everett and PK don't look alike, while working with Donald almost everyday.

There's more PK and Stefan action against robots, and Angus finally show his face to the hero.

Why is the centaur open and with the keys?

Also, why take the centaur when you found a freaking Mecha T-Rex?

Angus runs away, and PK is done for. All Tower secret are about to told and he will be marked as a criminal.

Ja! Yeah, no way buddy, Uno has a plan.

He sent Angus to the roof, and we have one of the best PK looks ever. He looks so frightening, absolutely marvelous.

And then...

YES! YES! YES!

HE DID IT! PK HAS KILL ANGUS!

The men pray, the women cry, the kids laugh. The world is hugging. Today we're happier. Thank you PK, thank you…

Oh. It was a hologram. That works too I guess.

PK and Stefan brought Angus to the lobby and left him on a sofa. All the other Channel 00 workers found him and he proceeded to tell his story up to the moment PK throw him to his doom.

We're back to the status quo. Angus is a weird crazy that somehow is still employee (also, why's he the anchor? who though people would like to see his face?) and PK secret identity will live another day.

Or is it?

That smile while he said best friend.

Camera 9 you bastard, you're awesome.

We're so back with this issue. So full of action and with a Camera 9 who steals the spotlight. When PK is good, is really good.

Of course, we have more of Trip, son of Raider, who apparently is terrible at sports. He can't play even a few seconds.

But he has his chances to prove himself, he only needs to stop a penalty kick. Not bragging, but I'm really good at that. Anyway, Trip couldn't and instead of suck it up, he went back in time and stopped the ball. Trip is a hero.

But he's also a proud jerk, and needs to feel the glory again, but he fails. Loser again.

But turns out, Raider, who was wearing his best Marge Simpson wig, interfered with the ball, making Trip fail. Harsh but fair. I hope Trip learnt his lesson.

Only three reviews left.

[piduai]

back in 2021 when i was studying to get into college i would stalk your acc everyday i kinda developed a parasocial relationship with fr sorry girl i just enjoyed your strong opinions and ur sense of humour anyway a year later i actually got into college i am doing what i wanted and all and for some reason i thought it somehow would fix all of my lonely problems but it didnt. ive always been weird but more than ever i dont think i can hide it anymore, i try being normal sooo hard but i feel like everyone can see through my act and they get weirdedout, like they can see that i am trying so hard when to them is so natural and the only girl i kinda made acquaitance with is thinking abt leaving so idk what to do. i truly envy normal people, i take no pride in being different i would trade all of my "uniquiness" to be able to fit in this world fr. sorry for venting, i remember you had a post kind of giving tips on how to ""survive" college but i cant seem to be able to find it. anyway thanks queen keep your head up.

congrats on getting into college, especially if it's something you like doing! i hope your academic career is going smoothly.

if you're in your second year of college you're what, early 20s? being 21 is as bad as being 14 but now you can legally take out a loan. being a weird loner at 21 is ^2 that. i think a lot of lonely teenagers have this college fantasy where they'll finally become social butterflies once they get their psych 101 schedule, but it's rarely the case; people don't change overnight. what i'm trying to say is that it's normal and fine even to feel that way - the disappointment, the frustration, the feeling of something lacking and of losing out. you're in a transactional period, not fully grown into your brain, so it's rather normal to feel bottomless despair in your situation. a lot of your problems will pass with age.

i can relate to your "i wish i was normal" bit so bad. a lot of boring losers on here who haven't stepped a toe out of normalcy their entire lives will talk about being proud weirdos because they play dungeons and dragons and have a porn addiction. god's #real strongest warriors know that there's nothing worse than deviating from the norm, a life of alienation you feel down to the bones. even if you mask exceptionally well and manage to blend in it doesn't go away, you know that you're abnormal and are the odd one out, and struggling with things that come naturally to the majority is downright humiliating. when i was younger i used to resent all of this, i resented not being like other people, resented being unable to be like everyone else, resented having to invest excruciating effort to not stand out like a sore thumb. but eventually you just have to come to terms with it, accept that there's something wrong with you, something that makes you different from most people you'll meet casually, and live with it. once you don't hate yourself for it anymore all you have to do is remember the scripts to follow during regular meaningless interactions and you're peachy. weird people have always existed, you're not the first or the last one, and they lived somehow so we can manage too.

and i know that the self-consciousness makes you think that everyone can sniff you out like a hound but the truth is that most people don't really care about you, they have their own lives to worry about. and it's a good thing, great in fact! if you just exist quietly but try to blend in (as in, don't behave in erratic or abnormal ways and don't create trouble) THE meanest thing people will passingly may think of you is "oh she's a bit awkward/shy/unfriendly" like i promise you those around you don't secretly look at you and go like... wtf.... look at that FREAK walking here..... gross..... because they simply don't care. like i think that strangers are much more benevolently indifferent than we're giving them credit for.

as for practical advice you never asked for, the good old "go to a place many times and you'll meet someone" method typically works. actually the best would be to join some sport of your liking, it doesn't have to be like, competitive or anything, swimming or badminton are good. but if you're bad at that maybe try chiller hobbies, like maybe your uni has some kind of clubs? anime/manga clubs, reading clubs, whatever you like. usually the people you meet at those particular clubs suck, but it kind of works like lesbian dating - they can introduce you to their friends, which can be nice encounters. there's also the option of frequently volunteering at events or getting a part-time job, stuff like bartending can introduce you to a lot of young people, especially if you're in a student town, but barista/waitressing can work too.

the problem with all of the above is that it does require you to be proactive, which is i think a difficult feature if your sense of self is fluctuating and you're being eaten alive by shame/self-doubt/self-hatred/insecurity. it's very hard to live that way. first and foremost you need to stand solid on who you are, to learn to accept your own quirks, to accept that you have to put up with hardships others will never know, and to respect yourself. different doesn't mean worse, or even bad. you're not a bad person. bad people don't have this kind of thoughts, they live life guilt free while demeaning and stomping on others. so even if you're a bit unusual you're still a decent person, you're deserving of dignity and respect and kindness, of good things, of connection, of love. meaningful encounters are rare, but they happen! keep searching, there is no other way. there are other people like you. i wish you the best of luck!

[queervegancryptid]

all work and no play makes me a dull, miserable shell of a nonbinary trans boy. i guess.

TW: mention of animal de4th, su1cidal ideation, and just a fuckton of general self-hatred

i woke up today feeling like i could barely walk. i wanted to go back to sleep, but my body hurt too badly. so i got up, turned on the water heater, fed the cat, waited for the water to get hot, ran half my bath, waited another 20 minutes for more hot water, and added bubbles and epsom salt.

the good news is, i felt better afterwards. the not so great news is that i've still been in so much pain all day that i haven't been able to do anything other than lie on the couch.

shadow, my cat, i adore her and know she loves me, but... i feel like a fucking dick because being around her reminds me of snippet, so i find myself avoiding her a lot. a whole lot.

i would never neglect her or any other animal. but she's so loving and affectionate, and for some reason, all i can think about is death.

and i don't mean in an edgelord, look-how-dark-i-am kind of way. i mean i genuinely see death everywhere and would very much like it to stop. it's worst with her for obvious reasons, but it's pretty pervasive. it feels like the concept just sort of draped itself around me and refuses to let go.

i hate being here. we can't afford to move, of course, but i hate being in this apartment so much since snippet got sick, and it's somehow worse now. and everyday, several times a day, i get this gut-wrenching feeling, and i just think, "i wanna go home."

except i'm already here. and because of the pain, especially today, and not to mention the fact that it's summertime and i live in florida and don't drive, it's like i'm trapped here.

i'm so tired of feeling like this. i don't want to die, but sometimes that's all i can think about: there's no escape, i have this eating disorder garbage in my head damn near 24/7, and everywhere i look, i'm reminded of snippet and everything that led up to her death.

i don't want to die. but i can't live like this anymore. it isn't fair to shadow or my partner, either. for a long time, i've felt like i didn't matter, and lately, i feel like i just make everything i touch worse.

i don't know what to do with this feeling. i'm tired of crying. i'm tired of being bitter and angry. to top it off, i feel less attractive and less capable than ever, which is saying a lot. simply put, it's hard to justify my existence. everyone around me deserves better, and i don't know why i can't seem to shake this.

my partner doesn't understand fully, but he's incredibly supportive and does everything he can for me. shadow doesn't understand, and i can't explain it to her. i'm loved. i should be happy. i want to make things better, and i don't know why it's so hard. they both just deserve so much better than i feel like i'm capable of being anymore.

i'm just in a really dark place lately. and i remind myself a lot of my mother, which is just... i feel like throwing something, which is what she would do. i feel like screaming and crying and yelling STOP, but what am i even yelling at? myself? my mind? my mother's disembodied spirit?

all i know is, i can't go through anymore death right now.

snippet died because she got cancer, then passed away in bed next to me and my partner less than six hours before a vet was to come and put her to sleep. i hate myself for not being able to save her, and i hate myself for not being able to give shadow the attention and affection she so clearly wants and deserves.

i hate myself for having an eating disorder and i hate myself for not wanting to recover. it feels like no matter what i do, i can't stop making things worse.

i just want my life back.

[raccoon0001]

November 20th, Monday 20:38

So, first of all, hello, Im Raccoon, well at least i would like to be one. Im 17 years old and i frequently write down my thoughts when i feel sad or angry in a pink notebook by my bed, for the past four maybe three years.

And lately i have been thinking of just trying to write down my thoughts everyday, about how i feel, to know what i am even feeling, and that I'm not just overwhelmed and impulsive at the moment. So i don't ruin my next week or day by obsessing over that one boy that smiled that one time at me or was funny. Because in reality he doesn't like me and i need to step down and realise that, but maybe he does and everything is not a big fat lie, but it is. At least for me, mostly. Everything, almost, everything is fine in my life, except for being kinda fat and not having a real, single boyfriend in my 17 years of living. I know that is not that much and what i am even worrying about, because i have the whole life ahead of me(i dont see myself living past 20). Well could kind of imagine it, but because of one thing and another i always thought i would not live past 18, but now i am 17 so its quite possible i will live past 18, dont really know what will happen afterwards.

Its kind of a dilemma i know to love someone u need to first love yourself and shit, but i really hate myself most of the time, i hate how i look, i hate how lazy i am, i hate stressful i am, i hate how sick i am...yada yada yada. I know there are physical things i am able to fix, but how do i know i just wont regress? Even now im imagining how this blog or whatever this is, is gonna get popular, and be turned into inspiration for poems or people, but after all this text is just my personal feelings, about myself, for myself, that dont really make sense sometimes, because my native language is not english lol and im typing in a hurry and then gonna prob put a pretty background or something and post it if i get the courage, well its a very big probability nobody is going to read this ever, bcs lets honest who reads blogs these days..

always the artist never the muse" i have been very attached to this quote(dont know who is the author) i even begun last year attending professional art school, so i will probably never be the muse even how much i want to be one. Its almost the same with taking pictures, im always taking pictures of others and there are almost never anyone taking picture of me without asking. Well i dont really like people specially taking pictures of me, because of how ugly i look, but still, i dont know. Theres this one friend who takes pictures of me, because that of other things that that person does makes me think im gay or that she likes me, because shes gay. I think im not gay. Like i would prefer a guy fucking my brains out not a girl, but i could never imagine anyone fucking me, mby i can.. hmm not rly, maybe because i have never been fucked, or my imagination is kinda weak. Well i am in art school so i thought it should be good, but lately, well after that thing in 2018 april, I think i have been in this one giant art block. Maybe i need to go to a therapist, to sort things out, not really sure.

I wish sometimes i was a boy. And i think i stink right now, fully emotionally and physically. Whats up with that.

I must have too many dreams and too little motivation.

I dont think i should have continued art, its too much, im not even good at painting, if i actually started practicing more maybe i would, but i think im still worse than most of my peers. And in this school there are mostly girls here and i know almost nobody outside the school and town bcs i didnt even live here two years ago, the ppl who have lived here their whole childhood dont even know where to turn to get a shortcut!

My goal this evening was to paint something, but somehow i started writing a blog..

I think i should have been better of dying that day in 2018. Im not good of a person and i dont really know if ill ever change. What does actually happen after death? Has anyone thought of that? I kind of think after you die its just all pitch black and then u suddenly open your eyes and there you are as your first memory u can think of at 10 years old or whatever, like 'snap' and there you are, but dont know who you were or who you will be. I kind of want to get into biology, but idk if a have the commitment for it.

Two days ago when i was a home visiting my family, after sauna, I was sitting by the table with some other cousins at my grandmas house and one of the older cousins, who was kinda drunk btw, asked me if i had a boyfriend, i thinking already of crying and just jumping down a building calmly said: "no, do i need one?". i want one.

I think my mom is homophobic, but. i also think that im not gay, but i will probably never get a bf, because ppl these days are very obsessed by how other ppl look from the outside mostly or i just dont know a lot of ppl and real life is not like the movies or manga that i read in my free time, that i should stop reading, maybe that would solve everything.

Also by wishing that i was a male, because it really seems to be bit easier to be a boy, how the world looks at you, and how theres a lot more chance of no rejection. Maybe im just living in my small minded world and have not that many ppl with different opinions on life that would make me understand that the world works differently. A lot of ppl around me also believe we are born to fulfil our one mission here on earth, i still dont see mine here, like ppl would be fine if i went and died and go on with they're life normally, because im just this one little spec of dust besides other 7 billion dust pieces, that separately are a nobody. Maybe my family would be devastated, but prob would be prepared for this kind of event about me and i think it would be much easier for my mum if i died, she worries too much about me.



Im just lonely.

A selfish bitch.

[muqingseyeroll]

it probably has to do with me overconsuming the untamed and word of honor content and now i’m suffering the consequences of my own actions and feeling the post-high fantasy depression over having to return to the mundane everyday life in the real world

but seriously. what they have?? i could never even dare imagine. their soulmateship and epic world-saving adventures and extremely cool personalities?? why can’t i go live in that world forever… instead we must pay taxes and shit.

i think these shows are just making me hyper aware of my own absence of any purpose or goal in life. because everyone in these shows have some sort of goal, or at least something they care about or work for. but me? i just live my life day to day, and i can’t really find it in myself to particularly care about any single thing a whole ton. college, i guess it’s there. i try to show up and do what i can, but i don’t really give a fuck, even though now that i get to choose my own subjects to study, they’re more interesting than high school. friends are nice, and i hang out with them when we’re free, and we have a good time together. food is good, but i suck at cooking (adhd makes it worse) and food in the us is somehow simultaneously unhealthy and untasty.

i know exactly what i need to do to start feeling a sense of purpose; i need to get my life together and start doing shit like looking for careers or at least internships. but i’m struggling to even get out of bed every day, not to mention any semblance of purpose. hyperfixations are ruining my life and it’s physically painful for me to tear myself away from spirals of endless cdrama content to do actually productive things. i hate hate hate it here so much. i need to go outside and do something physical but it’s below freezing and every time i step outside i die. why did i choose to go to college here.

anyways life sucks end rant good night internet i probably just need sleep

the feeling of intense emptiness at 1am

[astaroth1357]

Brothers Accidentally Make the MC Cry

Hello, this is the obligatory italics blurb that I have to put under my titles or else things look weird and it bothers me. Don’t mind the blurb. The blurb is a friend. (Though I could start writing pieces of a little story up here just to see if anyone even reads them… Hm…. Ideas, ideas...)

Warning: Angsty

Lucifer 

If he were being honest, he’d say that a part of him had always feared this would happen...

Lucifer likes to tell himself that he’s invincible, but everyday stresses can get to him just like anybody else. And like other people, he may not always act his best when he’s dealing with a full plate…

The MC hadn’t meant to make his day harder when they told him that they accidentally broke a lamp. It was a genuine accident! But Lucifer was still dealing with the fallout from another one of Mammon’s failed schemes, Satan had cursed all of his ties again, and Beel had eaten every scrap of food in the House… for the second time that week...

In comparison to everything else, a broken lamp was quite minor, but for Lucifer it was just the last straw and, for just a moment, he lost control…

His palm slamming against his desk hard enough to snap its legs and send it crashing to the ground. He scarcely knew what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was, he had made his human jump back in shock...

Really, it was silly for them to assume that he had gotten that upset over a lamp, but he saw tears starting to gather in their eyes all the same as they stammered out a quiet apology… 

It felt like an ice spike to the heart. Damn his temper… He really ought to have been more careful with them after… well, everything he’d done before…

He was quick to go over to them, catching their face with his hand and giving them the most sincere apology he could muster while wiping away their tears… Overreactions aren’t becoming of him and he hated to cause them pain… 

He, of course, took care of the lamp himself as penance and on the surface that seemed to be it (but to anyone paying attention, he had softened up on the MC considerably for at least a week. They probably could have sworn in front of Diavolo and he’d let it slide, he felt that bad about it...)

“I’m sorry, MC, I shouldn't have reacted like that… You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise… Please, there’s no need to cry…”

Mammon

Oh? What's that? His heart is now in a million pieces now...? Well, that seems fair…

He and the MC were out on one of his gambling nights and he was actually on a killer winning streak for once! Jackpots around every corner, he was rolling in it!

The MC had tried to convince him to just throw in the towel early, take his winnings while he had them and bail, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

In hindsight, their insistence must have really shown how much the MC cared about him and wanted him to keep his earnings... but in the heat of the moment all he saw was someone trying to spoil his one night of fun.

To be fair to Mammon, it’s rather rare for him to lose control of his anger like he did. But when they tried to pull him away from the roulette table, he genuinely snarled at them and told them to get lost...!

Fortunately, he regretted his actions immediately after he saw the hurt in their eyes…

If their goal had been to get him to step away from the table, they achieved it. But only because he got up to pull them into a hug while stammering out apologies… Watching them actually shed tears hurt worse than any rope Lucifer had ever tied around him...

He spent the rest of the night away from the casino and trying to cheer up his human like his life depended on it... Seeing them in pain just tore him up that much.

"Ah, come on MC… I'm sorry, honest…! Please don't look at me like that, I'll do whatever ya want okay...? Just no more cryin…"

Leviathan 

Now thinks he's the worst, literally the worst. Lower than lesser demon spit. Lower than Cerberus' shit. Lower than… well, you get the idea…

Levi can get very… intense when things involving his passions are brought up. This can be a fairly endearing quality… but it also means he gets disproportionately impassioned about seemingly minor things.

Levi ended up snapping at the MC when they let him over-sleep one day. This wasn’t unusual for them to do as Levi’s sleep schedule was notoriously shitty, but they shouldn't have done it that particular day…

An item he wanted on Akuzon was going to go live that morning and he had to be awake to participate in the bidding. He had mentioned it to the MC the day before, but he blew past it so quickly they didn’t actually remember…

He found out that he missed the bidding after he woke up and he was pissed. Genuinely enraged that they didn’t remember to wake him up to the point that he was shouting and baring his fangs! 

… Really it was not a good look and he should have known better.

The look of fear and the tears gathering in the MC’s eyes snapped him out of it like a hard slap to the face, and somehow, it stung even more than that would’ve... It wasn’t long before he was crying along with them, practically begging for forgiveness...

He made it up to them by having a private showing of their favorite movie using a projector in the Planetarium, cuddling with them under a blanket while still, occasionally, muttering apologies under his breath.

“M-MC…? MC don’t cry…!! Please don’t cry, I- I’m sorry!! I… MC… I’m so sorry…”

Satan

Like Lucifer, he always worried this would happen and he hated when it finally came to pass…

He’d spent all his life learning how to restrain his temper, but it’s not a perfect science. There are the occasional times where the heat of the moment gets the better of him and he does something he regrets…

The MC had walked in on him one morning while he was fuming about Beel leaving the fridge empty again. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen him like this, but this time he was absolutely furious.

He had told Beel again and again and again to get his snacking under control or to, you know, get up early and get more food so the whole family wouldn’t spend the morning starving but noooo! Mr. I’m Hungry never thinks about anything but his own stomach and then leaves whoever’s on kitchen duty to pick up the slack like some dimwitted muscle-bound meathead and THEN-!!

When the MC tried to take his arm to calm him down, he jerked their hand away from him and roared right in their face. He may not be a lion, but the full sound of a pissed off demon could make humans have breakdowns all on its own…

Which was more or less what the MC began to do as he gripped their wrist, panicking while taking shallow, stuttered breaths…

Satan's anger left him swiftly and he let them go, only reaching out to touch them again when he tried to wipe the tears from their cheeks… He had to coo and beg for them to calm down, which was only so successful because he was fighting back tears himself… 

On a scale of 1-10 of the worse things his temper has ever done, he'd rank this a firm 200... He refused to touch them for about a week afterwards and it took a long time for him to trust himself again… He just didn't want to hurt them...

"MC?? MC…? M… Oh no… MC, I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you! I… I wouldn't dare… please believe me..."

Asmodeus 

Oh baby! Sweetheart! Love of his life!! No, please no… don't subject him to this…

MC and Asmo were out dancing and some witch came by to try and flatter him.

Now, Asmo is a flirt normally, but get a few drinks in him and well… Let's just say his love of attention overrides his better judgment far more often than it should and friends don't let friends go home with creepy witches.

When the MC told the witch to scram, Asmo was confused and, frankly, quite irritated. That lovely lady had been stroking his ego in all the right ways and his human just scared her off so rudely!

Under most situations, Asmo would have kept his cool better but the haze of Demonus made his tongue loose... which let the venom fly…

He couldn’t quite remember what he said. The words left his mouth so quickly that they slurred together on his clumsy tongue, but it must have been enough because the MC flinched away from him.

That hurt all on its own, but as he started to process the pain in their eyes… he had never sobered up so fast...

He had their cheeks cupped in his hands and were kissing away their tears within the instant. Though the loud music at the club should have drowned out his apologies, the MC could see it written all over his equally tearful face…

He pulled them into his arms and then out of the club shortly after, the fog of Demonus that plagued him just moments before had long left him and all he knew was that the MC needed to be brought home and cuddled… stat.

“M-MC…? I’m sorry was it something… did I…? I’m so sorry… Please don’t cry…!”

Beelzebub 

He really didn't mean to shout so loud… honest... 

Beel becomes a completely different person when he’s hungry. He’s not entirely to blame, as his hunger can get so intense, but he still can snap from time to time when he really doesn’t mean to…

It was right after one of his practices and Beel hadn’t gotten a chance to eat in a few hours by the time the MC came to grab him from RAD. That already had him in a bad mood, but practice hadn’t gone too well for him either… 

He honestly didn’t realize how sharply he snapped at the MC when they asked him how he was. The irritation and frustration of the day all hit him at once and he became much harsher towards them than he ever intended…

It must have been the shock of seeing ever-sweet Beel suddenly get so aggressive with them that startled them so. He saw a couple tears gathering in their eyes before they could hide them and his heart just sank…

The MC was picked up in a crushing bear hug before they even let out their first sniffle. Beel didn’t even have to say how sorry he was, they could feel it in every squeeze he gave them. All while he completely ignored the growling of his stomach...

Beel wouldn’t let them go until he was certain they’d forgiven him which, honestly, took a while. Mammon was the one to ask why he had carried them all the way back to the House like a baby but… well, he didn’t need to know, now did he?

“MC, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted… Are you alright...?”

Belphegor 

Stubborn boi is stubborn and trying really, really hard not to crack right now...

That's not going to last long.

Belphie can be a bit of a brat and since he's the baby of the family so he's used to getting his way. He and the MC don't argue a ton, but when they do, he always digs his heels in and refuses to budge an inch on anything.

So what started out as a simple disagreement on how often Belphie would flake out on his chores turned into a kick-the-door-down argument over how much his laziness left the MC to pick up the slack...

It ended as all their barn burning arguments do, with demon-form Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed refusing to look at them and the MC angrily pacing about the room until he cools off…

And then he heard it.

First a sniffle… and then a hiccup. Another sniffle then muffled whine…

Oh no… not this… Why are they crying…? They don't normally cry…

To his credit (or perhaps discredit), he managed to hold out for about two minutes before he finally glanced back at them. Seeing the MC wiping their tears all alone on the floor crumbled his resolve real quick.

The MC found themselves enveloped by Belphie's arms before they even noticed he got up. Naturally, he was pouting and trying to make it seem like "not a big deal or anything" but they could tell by the nervous twitch of his tail that he was hurting too…

Needless to say. Belphie started remembering his chores a lot more after that.

"Humans are so fragile… I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? I'll get things done just… Don't cry… please…"

[bonkie-barnes]

Spoons

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: chronic illness, mention of medicine, self deprecating thoughts

A/N: this is me 1000% projecting about my guilt that comes with my chronic illnesses. they're kicking my ass rn. this is a vent fic, but if you resonate with this at all, i hope you enjoy :)

- - -

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm clock on Natasha’s bedside table has been going off for a full minute already. You merely roll over and cover your head with Natasha’s pillow. It smells like her.

You have absolutely no energy to get up, let alone reach across the bed to turn the alarm off. Your head feels heavy and your body aches something terrible.

The list of chores you have to do around the house today sits uncomfortably in the back of your mind. The list of friends who have texted you about making plans to hang out sits there too. The idea of staying in bed all day sounds more and more appealing by the second. You know this because the alarm is still blaring into the otherwise peaceful morning air.

Just as you’re gathering the strength to sit up and turn the alarm off, Natasha walks in. She looks at her watch and her brow furrows in confusion.

“What are you doing, sleepyhead?” she asks you with a little smirk. There is concern in her eyes, though she masks it well.

You’re both fully aware the alarm has been going off for seven minutes straight now.

“Just tired, love. You know how much work it takes to reach over,” you say in a joking manner, hopeful that you can get past this without worrying her too much.

Natasha eyes you suspiciously for a second before giving in.

“How was your workout?” you ask her sincerely.

As she starts rambling about her morning activities, you feel a sense of shame. You’ve barely managed to wake up in the time it’s taken her to complete a full workout routine. Hell, you couldn’t even find it in you to turn the alarm off.

You finally focus on her rant as it comes to an end. Natasha is looking at you expectantly. Shit. She’s asked you a question.

“Huh?” you grunt.

She chuckles before answering, “I asked if you were ever going to get up and get in the shower, stinky.”

You put on a fake smile but fail to meet her eyes, the shame eating you up. It has been a few days since your last shower, but it’s just so hard to find the strength and energy to get up and stand in one place for more than a minute or two.

If Natasha notices the far away look in your eyes and the grimace on your mouth, she doesn’t say anything.

After one of the quickest and most unproductive showers you’ve ever taken, you find Natasha waiting for you in the kitchen. She’s taken it upon herself to make breakfast for you both.

You kiss her cheek and thank her as you sit down at the table. The warm cup of coffee she sets down in front of you is a godsend. The warmth emitting from the cup helps to diminish the pain in your knuckles, if only slightly. You send up a silent prayer to whomever might be listening that the caffeine will help with the fatigue today instead of making you sick.

Natasha sits down in the chair next to you with her own plate. She runs her eyes over you in a scrutinizing manner. She wants to think you don’t notice, but you do.

Clearing your throat in hopes to take her focus off you, you ask about her plans for the day.

“Oh, you know, mostly just busy work. I have a ton of paperwork to get through,” she tells you through an exaggerated sigh. “What about you?”

The list of chores screams at you again. “Mostly just some things around the house. Grocery shopping, laundry, boring shit like that.”

Natasha hums around a sip of her coffee. It surprised you just how much cream and sugar she takes in hers. It’s just one of the many unpredictable things about her that made you fall in love.

“Super exciting. I hate to miss out,” she teases you.

You crack a smile to appease her. Inside, though, you realize just how little she understands. These errands seem so simple to her, when to you, they are the most daunting of tasks.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Natasha standing up to take her plate to the sink. She comes back to kiss your cheek and let you know she’s going to go get ready, before walking out of the room.

You suspect the amount of housework you’ll get done today will be minimal, so you decide to at least make Natasha some lunch. Maybe it will lessen the disappointment she feels when she comes home to see everything exactly as it was when she left, you think.

Your plan is halted as you’re making her sandwich. The stupid cover on the peanut butter jar is stuck. You can’t open it for the life of you. The guilt comes in like a tidal wave. You can’t even do something as simple as make lunch for her, your brain supplies for you.

Natasha returns from getting ready to see you standing in the kitchen with a glare on your tired face.

“What’d the peanut butter do to you this time,” she jokes.

“I can’t.” Tears well up in your eyes.

She comes up to wrap you in a hug from behind. She softly asks, “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t open the jar,” you mutter softly, feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed.

“It’s okay, love. Let me help,” she tells you delicately before kissing the spot under your ear. She can tell this is affecting you more than usual and wishes for nothing more than to be able to take away your distress.

You mutter a thank you before continuing to make her sandwich. You pack everything into a bag and write a small note to finish it off. You know Natasha loves the little messages you leave her periodically, and nothing will stop you from trying to make her as happy as you can.

Goodbyes are said as you both wander closer to the door. Natasha makes sure to hold you longer and tighter than usual. You don’t comment on that.

The silence that encompasses the room as soon as the love of your life leaves is suffocating. You can feel the exhaustion from purely getting up and getting ready creeping up on you. Logically, you know that you shouldn’t overexert yourself, but the shame is eating you up. Already on a roll, might as well keep on going, you think to yourself.

You go back to your mental to-do list and debate what to start with. The grocery store doesn’t sound terrible. Some sun would do you some good. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen the world that exists outside of your house.

Wandering back to the bedroom to get your phone and shoes, you try to push the fatigue from your mind. In your attempt to block out the tiredness, you fail to recognize the ever-present pain in your joints increasing. It’s only when you sit down and bend over to put your shoes on that you register the feeling. Your hips ache severely; so much so, that you can’t hold your position long enough to get your shoe on your foot.

This seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, seeing as you immediately burst into tears. The pain mixed with your inability to do basic, everyday activities completely overwhelms you as you break down.

There’s absolutely no chance that you’re going to complete this task, let alone all the other ones on your list. You let out a sigh as you stand up and shuffle to your room, phone and shoes forgotten in the living room.

You let the weight of your emotions crush you as you climb into bed and under the covers, your wife’s pillow clutched closely to your chest.

Your tears cease to stop, even as you succumb to the sleep you so desperately wished to hold onto this morning.

- - -

Natasha comes home to an eerily silent house. On any typical day, she would come home to the noise of your favorite show or music softly playing, whether it be from a speaker or from your guitar. Your shared house consistently was filled with life and sound. It was one of her favorite parts of her day; coming home to you in your own element, laughing or singing. You are her home.

This newfound silence has her exceptionally worried. Even on your bad days, there was at least a laugh track coming from the TV or the smell of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen. Now, there’s absolutely nothing. For a split second, Natasha thinks that you may never have come back from the grocery. Her heart rate spikes. The sight of your phone on the coffee table and your shoes strewn haphazardly on the floor puts those worries to rest.

“Darling?” she calls from the entryway. There is no response. She carefully removes her boots and coat before moving through every room in the house, calling out for you softly in each.

She makes her way to the bedroom, lightly knocking on the door as she lets herself in. She sees the rise and fall of your chest and is filled with a sense of relief she didn't know she needed.

"Love? Are you awake?"

You grumble out an answer that could be understood as a 'yes'.

Natasha carefully sits down on the side of the bed that you are facing.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she requests softly, in fear of upsetting the quiet environment of the bedroom and making things worse.

The tears that started up again when you wife called out the first time get even heavier somehow.

"Oh love, come here."

She carefully gathers you in her arms and rests your head on her chest.

"Does this have anything to do with the peanut butter jar this morning?"

You nod. One of your favorite things about your wife is her ability to observe and understand what you're going through.

"I just can't do anything today. Everything hurts and I'm so, so tired," you whisper, followed by a heartbreaking sob.

"It's okay love. Please don't cry," Natasha whispers back.

"But it's not! It's not okay!" You sit up from her chest to let out your rant. "You've done so much today and I could barely wake up. You work so hard and I should be able to do stuff around the house so you can come home and not have to worry about anything," you finish with a sigh.

Your wife puts her hand under your chin, forcing you to look in her direction. "Love, look at me. Believe me when I say that I don't care about the state of the laundry or if the pantry has been stocked. All I care about is you. All I want is for you to be okay. It's killing me that you feel like this and I can't do anything to take it away from you. What I can do, though, is tell you just how proud I am of you. You are the strongest person I know, and I work with the Avengers."

You giggled at that. Natasha smiles at your small second of happiness.

"Are you sure? Because I was going to get so much done today and I was trying to-"

Natasha cuts you off with a soft kiss.

"My love. Listen to me. All I care about is your health and happiness. If staying in bed and catching up on sleep is what you needed today, then that's all I expect from you. I never want you to hurt yourself trying to do more than you can. We all have limits. It’s okay to need a break some days. I love you and I am so very, very proud of you."

With a long look into her eyes, all you find is love and adoration directed towards you. There's no disgust or disappointment as you had anticipated.

"I love you too," you utter quietly.

Natasha smiles and leaves a long kiss on your forehead. "What if we got some pain killers and some food in you? We can even put on your favorite movie. Does that sound good?"

You nod. Natasha gets up to get you some medicine and to order some food, while you get your favorite movie loaded on the TV.

Later that night, when both your stomachs are full and your wife is obnoxiously singing along to the songs in the movie just to make you laugh, you realize just how loved you are.

You don't know how tomorrow will treat you, or the day after that. What you do know, however, is that Natasha will always be there to support and love you. Your pain level and ability to function is always an uncertainty, but your wife's love will never be.

- - -

A/N: as always, i try to keep it gender neutral. if you find a mistake, please let me know! feedback is appreciated! to all my chronic illness buddies out there: i love you, you've got this :)

taglist: @007giu