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neon--nightmare · 2 years

Note

How can a parasite devoid of all true emotions, only capable of emitting false personas taken from culture, consider themselves any gender identity?

Just because he has been called a he, and they have been called they, it doesn't define any gender. Sure, he can mean male, but they is used to define when you're unaware of someone's gender, so you use it to be respectful; it does not denote gender.

It is actually kind of disrespectful to people who are transgender, given that a "funky colourful skeleton" suddenly meaning transgender is rather offensive.

b. bro. I’M trans. i’m literally transgender, nonbinary transmasc, and have identified as such since i was ten or eleven? i’ve been diagnosed w gender dysphoria, i’ve been on T, and i plan to get top surgery in the future! I’m trans. (ofc those things aren’t necessary to be trans, but this is for my credibility on your end)

i say fresh is trans because he’s a very personal character to me, so i project that on him, and it makes me happy. i wasn’t born yesterday, man, i know the issue w the entire ‘nonhuman = nonbinary’ thing, bc, again, i’ve IDed as nb for almost ten years, and i would have when i was even younger if i knew the label existed! i wasn’t the one that created fresh or made the decision for him to be explicitly NB/agender, but it’s very personal to me as someone with the same label, so i’m reclaiming it. putting the rest under a readmore bc its long, and this ^ was the most important part imo

to me, it’s like someone who very closely identifies with mewtwo talking abt mewtwo being nonbinary. is mewtwo completely nonhuman and divorced from the human concept of gender? yes! but actual nonbinary people can see themselves in him, even with the negative connotations (that, again, has been a big issue in media for decades,) and reclaim it for themselves. it’s different than someone who isn’t trans or nb calling an alien or robot character nb, because we have the genuine lived experience, and if it makes us happy to do so, especially with such few nb characters in non-niche media that ARE actually human/aren’t some boy/girl fusion, i, personally, don’t see much of a problem with it.

i don’t joke about fresh being nonbinary because he’s a ‘funky colorful skeleton,’ i do it because 1. he’s a character that’s been explicitly identified as agender, 2. i’m agender and 3. he’s a character that’s very, very very personal to me, and it makes me happy to project my experience on him. obviously, he’s not trans, he’s a body-hopping parasite. but it’s something that brings me comfort and makes me happy, man, and that’s why i talk abt it, not bc hes the pinnacle of agender or aroace representation. (which, im also aroace! triple a, etc.)

it’s like how i personally project a lot of my autistic experiences on him, because even though he was never designed as autistic and it would be very harmful if he WAS, i see a lot of myself and my own experiences of completely missing social cues, not being able to truly understand or guess why others react the way they do to things so you come up w 1000 scenarios in your mind to ‘prepare’ before every conversation, and how once hes able to feel it leads to immense constant anxiety, the way letting urself actually feel is so so overwhelming and even tho it’s not healthy its easier to just bottle! was it intended to be that deep? no, but i still reclaim it, bc im just some guy on the internet who likes fresh way too much.

(I’m assuming you came here from my dumb fresh iceberg post, he is actually capable of more than anger and fear after loveball, he can feel joy, love, sadness, but he crushes all of it down because 1. allowing himself to feel those things will get him killed and replaced! by someone better. 2. he has extremely negative connotations with letting himself feel after a series of extremely traumatic events, (somethin else that’s also very very personal to me, and why loveball has been so important to me for years, but that’s another story i’m not goin to go into, esp not here!) especially since it would just lead to a future of horrible breakdowns and 3. his lifestyle and sense of purpose relies on not feeling. on convincing himself he’s still a hollow shell. in his mind, it’s his purpose, it’s the reason he was created. and if he ‘falls’ to the level of all the people he mocks and manipulates for feeling, than what is he?) fresh presents himself as an empty shell, even to himself, but after loveball, he isn’t. but he needs to be, so he lies to himself and tells himself that he’s fine. fresh doesn’t believe he deserves any kind of kindness or redemption. he can’t understand any of it directed at him. hes not just an empty shell or reflection of his surroundings, but he WANTS to be. bc its easier man! it’s less painful! but he cant go back to what he was!

ironically, to me, hes a very human character, while also being so fundamentally alien, he makes sense to me. ofc im not sadistic and i dont purposefully torture people for a living, but! hopefully this makes any sense. i didn’t pull any of this out of nowhere, and i can grab receipts off the top of my head if u need them bc i have so much pointless fresh lore memorized down to the wording (like how i remembered the wording for one of the asks was agendered instead of agender, it’s that bad. i have the Burden of knowledge)

#this was definitely an ask to wake up to!#the phrase ‘disrespectful to people who are transgender’ set me off and i got carried away #because i’m openly trans! i have he/they pronouns in my desc and ive talked abt bein agender before but im assuming anon had just found my #blog n assumed the worst. which is why im choosin to believe this had good intentions behind it #i got really carried away but hopefully i articulated myself ok ive been very tired lately #idk hopefully any of it makes sense but its smth very personal to me #this post was brought to u by . Fresh himself but as just a guy now #but w the same amount of issues (JOKE JOKE JOKE JOKE JOKE JOKE /J /J)#first ask ive replied to in idk how long dude Sighs #discourse #ig #asks #anonymous

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identitycris1s · 4 years

Text

im back

hi just thought id pop in with a status update! maybe i’ll break this down into categories. feel like im doing an email update (ew!) but this rly is probs the best way to structure this post...

work / school (?)

work has been....aite. idk what to say. idk if i have unrealistic expectations of what work is supposed to be, but the idealist in me thinks its wrong to not even try and find something that seems meaningful / is deeply fulfilling. i think im mature enough to get that work isnt supposed to be fun / exciting every single day but bro this daily grind / sense of dread / utter disinterest / feeling of futility / frustration / disenchantment surely isnt the correct state of affairs.....at least let me try and find something that is a better fit, thats more stimulating, that feels more NATURAL to me? i just dont think im cut out to be a lawyer. sure i sometimes like arguing and making my point and i like that everyone i work with is smart and interesting and generally kind and reasonable and i like the prestige of the job and feeling like ppl respect me and i like the decent pay and the humane hours but.....i feel unmotivated to be a good lawyer. i think i find it difficult / disingenuous to always 100% get behind my client and advocate for their best interests. i tend to see things from a zoomed out perspective, like WHY are we fighting, WHY cant we just settle, WHY are the claimants pursuing this absolutely crap and unmeritorious claim and WHY do we have to defend it when its stupid and bound to fail (cos access2justice i guess but still, WHY), WHY cant we just hash things out in a meeting instead of sending emails here and there and wasting time, WHY do we have to answer stupid questions, WHY WHY WHY

and i think public policy is sort of an answer to that....i think theres more questioning of why we do things and why a policy will or will not work, in a macro sense - what is good for society at large. whereas in law (at least in litigation) its how can we just move this case forward and help the client, which is often not the most productive thing to do in a macro sense - very much a zero sum game. i get that shitty / unmeritorious claims still need to be defended against and someone has to do it and I GET IT but i just dont think i want to be that person defending these claims...or bringing them for that matter.....ultimately i cant fully / sincerely separate the overarching sense of futility from the duty to do a good job.

sigh. well at least ive kind of figured out this isnt for me. which is scary cos being a lawyer in this firm is pretty much a career for life - truly an iron rice bowl, i could probably make partner in maybe 4 or 5 years and live a comfortable upper middle class life...but i cant bring myself to do that. i cant bring myself to not give myself a shot at doing something i actually find interesting, stimulating and that i care about deeply. call me crazy! we’ll see where this brings me in 5 years’ time....:)

anyway most ppl at work (at least in my team) know that im most likely gonna leave soon. i rly only told 2 ppl (my boss cos he had to sign off on my testimonial and G cos she was quitting anyway)...but somehow ppl found out one way or another. i dont rly mind and ppl have been taking it pretty well and have been kind and encouraging (i guess why would they not take it well, im hardly indispensable) but i get a bit antsy thinking - what if i dont get in...then what? do i just put my head down and continue here (BUT IM SO SAD) or do i just quit without any prospects and try to find a policy-ish job??

idk. will have faith that God will put me where I need to be. he is in control of it all and I BELIEVE THIS !!! I am just a bit scared that his plan is different from what i think i want....but this is just my human instinct and i know in my head that there is no reason to be scared cos his plan is always the better one. head knowledge just needs to translate to heart understanding and real trust / faith.

ermmm relationships...???

i started using...cmb...idk why i find this so cringey. i guess about a year ago i couldnt imagine doing this and i kept thinking EW what if ppl i know see me and they think im a desperate saddo who cant find a bf irl and has to resort to an app EW shes so lame and ugly and gross. and i realised that is so stupid no one actually thinks that way and its very backward and dumb and insecure of me to be thinking that. and anyway as i get older i rly dont quite give a shit what ppl think of me (at least i tell myself that....)

i suppose i was also inspired by csm who has been quite actively using apps and meeting ppl and taking real..strides..(LOL) in her dating life. i used to tell myself hey God will provide u with a mans if he wants u to be with a mans. but also God can use an app to do that...and if i dont step out in faith that he will do something and i dont take any action at all, how is God gonna work?? should i sit at home and expect a man to fall into my lap??

for some ppl it has been way easier, e.g. my parents meeting in uni and falling i love. i always wanted that - the organic relationship, the meet-cute, the friends to lovers thing. (i guess i tried that last one before and it didnt work...) but i think theres no point in romanticising relationships anymore. thats a very modern thing to do and its not necessarily a good thing? like who’s to say a relationship that had organic beginnings is intrinsically better than one that started from an app?

anyway i havent had much luck haha i think its hard to find genuine GCBs (or maybe theyre just not attracted to me....) although recently ive been talking to this one guy B for a week or two and its been...ok i guess. hes rly nice and seemed cool at first - we talked about travelling and hamilton and the office, which was a good start. he is thoughtful and kind and doesnt seem to be put off by my very slow replies (he replies so fast......its stressful a bit) and he does the whole good morning text thing (which i frankly find a bit bizarre, we barely know each other..?? and ive never even met him irl.. but its sweet i guess :))

but DUDE his english seems to be not great - at least thats the impression i get from texting him. which is an issue for me. i dont want it to be BUT IT IS...first red flag was when he said some weird thing about not wanting to wear a mask at work (not a literal mask - like he didnt know if he could be his ‘true self’) and the wording was very strange. then he said “the weekends are almost here” ?? the weekend is not a plural though? then he used the wrong tense a few times and his apostrophe usage was wrong (”Gods’ love” - bro there is one God). he also uses way too many commas which irks me.

i mean i get that text is supposed to be an informal medium - come on look at this post, there r hardly any capital letters and plenty of short forms and hardly any apostrophes but u see its CONSISTENT and its obviously cos of laziness / convenience - but i think his problem is a bit different...u can sort of tell if someone doesnt have a 100% strong grasp of english. those r basic grammar mistakes man...i get that i sound petty and stupid and this isnt a huge deal but i feel like im settling by even talking to him cos this is not something i wld normally tolerate but hey maybe im getting desperate with age :(:(:( urgh

on the other hand maybe i just need to be more generous with ppl and l have an irrationally high standard for english cos i am a lawyer and my friends all speak well / text well?? maybe im just being too nitpicky?? honestly hes very nice and communicative and straightforward and seems mature and very God-fearing and idk why hes still talking to me cos ive been a bit cold and slow to respond. hes very patient which i dont rly deserve.....i myself have a million flaws that are probably way worse and egregious (ahem PRIDE...ahem ego....ie the source of this dilemma in the first place...) so maybe i should just close one eye abt the bad grammar.

i also realised how fked up i am - confirmed my suspicion that i am naturally attracted to emotionally unavailable ppl / ppl that just seem distant / out of reach (thats my avoidant attachment style right there). i think there was one day he didnt text me at all and omg...i couldnt stop thinking what i did wrong...like did i piss him off by being too cold for too long...did he get scared off cos i said i wanted to do a masters (idk this seemed like an irrational leap but i was being irrational)..then i started being nicer to him and replied more promptly hahaha turns out he was just rly bz at work that day. omg this pattern is real i think i did this with xj also - was eager to speak when he was in japan but after meeting irll i was just over it... (i am drawn to distance like a moth to a flame and i am repelled by availability like....a fire by a fire extinguisher (??)). yucks i rly hate myself sometimes but yknow what at least im self aware and im trying to fix this...kind of.. gonna hash this avoidant thing out with my therapist at the next sesh.

on the topic of xj i got a bit nostalgic and wondered why we stopped speaking (surprise surprise it was my fault, didnt reply then felt it had been left to long to pick it up again...) went back to look at our texts and aw we rly got along so well, i do miss him as a friend and im sorry about how poorly i treated him especially in dec 2018 / jan 2019 sigh.....i was a real bitch....

anyway im just gonna see how things go with B... if he asks me out i prob will go... just to give it a shot. update if / when that happens!

EDIT - he asked me out lol we shall see how it goes.

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sakurasangcl · 7 years

Text

Lightning (part one)

Summary: With newly discovered powers, you’re not only a hazard to yourself, but to the public too.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Reader, Peter, Tony

Warnings: attempted suicide, divorced parents (idk if this is a warning or not, but hey, you never know), verbally abusive father (the reader describes it as “quasi abusive”)

Notes: Some of this is based off of my experience in high school, but is not at all true (obviously). And yes, this is part one of a series. *winks*

Changing from secondary school into high school was no big deal. You were a smart kid and knew how to go about it. You’d keep a low profile, be quiet, learn quickly. You’d fly from class to class, never lingering in the hallways. You seemed impatient and fidgety, and perhaps that was true. In your free time at school, you’re nose was always in a book. You knew it was an extremely antisocial behavior, but reading was an escape. An escape from the hell that was reality. And it worked… for a time.

It was one particular afternoon that really got to you. Since you changed school districts after moving to a new apartment across town into Queens, you didn’t have any friends. You’d sit alone on the bus, or even chance walking home if you felt like it.

It was a Friday that should’ve been like any other Friday. Except, it wasn’t. This was the first weekend that you had to go with your father. Your quasi abusive father. He never laid a finger on you, but you could just tell that he hated you. Your younger brother and older siblings were his pride and joy. One was becoming a doctor, the other an engineer. Your brother was showing promising athletic capabilities. But you, you were nothing special. Sure, you were incredibly smart and could write the equivalent of a novel about the Battle of Gettysburg, but he wasn’t interested in history or reading. No- only changing the world.

Your last class was Geometry, and the teacher had a nasty habit of holding you over the bell. You scribbled triangles and degrees on your notes, but nothing seemed to process in your mind. It was a foreign language to you-but much worse. As the bell shrieked, your teacher shouted your homework.

“The homework starts on page 54, and I want you to do 1 to 50 but only the odds!”

“Twenty five problems? Really?” you mutter under your breath.

You heard someone snigger nearby, “What, the nerd can’t handle it?”

You ignored the nasty comment as you rushed out of the room, hoping to make it quickly to the bus. Instead, Russell Meyers blocked your way.

“You’re doing my math for me, nerd,” He states, dropping his binder and pencil into your arms.

“No I’m not!” You reply, shoving the items back in his arms.

“You are, or that ugly face of yours will get even uglier,” Russell threatens.

“I didn’t know you were talking about yourself!” you scoffed, feigning shock.

“I’m not, you fool! I’m talking about you!” he growls, throwing his books at you.

Maybe it was that you were done with school for the day, really wanted to be gone, or were just really nervous, but you were not expecting what happened next. “I’m not doing your homework, you unintelligent oaf.”

“What’s that?”

“I said no.”

“No, you called me an oaf.”

“An unintelligent oaf, actually,” you correct, as his face reddened to the shade of a tomato.

As a child with extreme anger issues, Russell did what was only logical to him-punching you square in the face.

“What a perfect day to wear white,” you sarcastically comment about the bright red blood as you run to the bathroom.

You take out a ton of paper towels, and hold your nose to stop the bleeding. You bend over to help it clot faster, but to no avail. You must have broken your nose.

You silently cursed at Russell, hoping he’d rue the day he met you. And rue the day he would.

Except today it was you who would be ruing the day. You ran outside, still trying to stop the bleeding but also to make it to the bus. Just as you made your way outside, the buses were pulling out of the parking lot.

“Great. Just what I needed.”

With a very audible sigh, you began your long trek home.

Not once did a stranger offer you help for your nose, ask what happened, or why there was blood on your shirt. Not even any of the police officers that you passed- five, precisely.

Once you got home, you had thirty minutes to get ready to go with your dad and to fix your nose.

“MOM?” you shout, hoping to get her help to fix your nose. “MOM!” Of course, she wasn’t home. Instead, your brother came out of his room and looked at you quizzically.

“What happened to you?” he questions.

“I got punched in the face.”

“Nice! Did you hit ‘em back?”

“No, I fell.”

“Aww man…” he mumbles, retreating back into his room.

Alone with your younger sibling, you go into the room that you shared with your sisters and backed a small bag for the weekend. Once you were done, you went to the bathroom to clean yourself up with only ten minutes to spare.

What you saw was bad. Your face was caked in dried blood, and your nose and lower left eye swelling black. You gently touched the inflamed area and squeaked in pain. Your nose was definitely broken.

With warm, soapy water you washed away the blood, revealing a cut under the bruise. At the same time, your mother came home, now only with five minutes left.

“Oh honey, what happened!” she exclaims, examining your nose.

“I got punched,” You state as though it was the most obvious thing ever.

“I figured that much, but why?” she inquires further, taking out her first aid kid.

“I wouldn’t do this kid’s homework.”

“That’s not right! I’m going to talk to the school, and his mother. What is this delinquent’s name?”

“It doesn’t matter. His mother wouldn’t care, and neither would the school. It would just make it worse for me.” You explaining, wincing as she patched up your nose.

“Oh honey, I am so sorry!” Your mother exclaims, kissing you lightly on your uninjured cheek.

The sound of barking and the ringing of the doorbell got your mother up. “I’ll go explain to your father, you finish getting yourself ready.”

“No, it’s no use. He’d congratulate the guy who punched me.” You admit, grabbing your mother’s hand to stop her.

You rushed yourself to get the rest of your cloths, and quickly went down with your father, keeping your head low.

“You should’ve just done the kid’s homework. Your sisters would have done that.” You father says, the disgust clear in his voice.

You say nothing, as his reply would be worse than anything.

“Or you could have fought him back. Your brother would have done that. You ran away like the coward you truly are.” He adds as an afterthought.

You don’t know if it was being punched, your dad, or a mixture of everything, but you found yourself on the top of his seven story apartment building, looking down. You were holding a piece of paper that you scribbled three words on- I’m not sorry.

Clenching the paper tightly in your fist, and you step onto the edge of the roof. You look around the city-your city- and sigh.

“This is it. The end.” you assure yourself.

After a deep breath, you hear the door to the roof open, and know it’s now or never. You glance over your shoulder to see your brother and say, “I love you. This is not your fault. Just let me go.” Then leap forward onto nothing. You heard screams and sirens. All you could see was blurred, and all you could smell was tacos.

You only partially remember being transferred into the ambulance, and the ride to the hospital.

You kind of remember blurred faces leaning over you, checking your pulse and heart rate. They put one of those masks to help you breath over you face. You wanted to take it off.

You remember being stuck with an iv at the hospital, so you wouldn’t die and could be given medicine since you couldn’t (but also wouldn’t) take it orally.

You also remember the doctor explaining a new type of experimental drug that could help speed up your healing time.

You remember seeing the arrangement of your bones from your x ray on the wall next to you, and how almost every bone in your body was broken.

You remember the days and hours ticking by.

You remember your two sisters coming to visit you, both of them wondering why you’d ever do such a terrible thing.

You remember them whispering how much they love you to your motionless and numb body.

You remember being carted down to get your second x ray a week and a half later, and seeing the results through drugged eyes. The smaller bones had healed, and you were almost done mending.

You got sent home that day with your mother. As a nurse, she was trusted to take care of you-and the heavy medications you were on. But rather than staying with you, she had to work overtime to get money for all the procedures.

You remember the doctor from before coming home to check on you and helping out. His beard was oddly shaped, but you couldn’t remember how. You swore you’d seen him before somewhere.

You remember your brother watching the doctor with awe, and that he would actually listen to him.

You also remember a red and blue blur looking at you through your window, both at the hospital and at home.

You remember the comfort from the strange blur, though you couldn’t explain why.

You couldn’t remember when you starting having a tutor, but his name was Mr. Brown. He was a chill dude, and you think you must have had him as a substitute teacher before. He was a very smart man, and optimistically assured you that you would be back in school in no time. Of course, you’d rather just be home schooled the entire time and never have to go back to that dreadful place.

Of course, you could only take so much boredom. Even Mr. Brown could tell two weeks in that you were over halfway caught up with over two months worth of missed classes.

“Miss y/n, did you ever find school paced too slowly for you?” he inquires one evening while grading your papers.

You shrug solemnly. “Yeah, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.”

“Well, on the bright side you’ll be caught up soon if you actually try from here on out.”

Of course, try was not something you wanted to do until your anxiety spoke up and pointed out that continually failing everything you missed would bring down your GPA. So you were soon back in school after four months of absence. Your casts were all off, and you were walking by yourself. By all accounts, it was a miracle. You should have taken about six months to heal, not hardly four.

You got to school early your first day back. All of the teachers were extremely attentive to you, and wanted to give you ample time to adjust again. They were being overly nice, and avoiding the fact that the last time they saw you was the day you attempted suicide.

Your first class was history, and it was with your favorite teacher. You made your way through the labyrinth of a school to his class, and was the first one there. “Morning Mr. Smith,” you say, sitting down in your front seat.

“It’s good to have you back, y/n. How are you doing today?” He asks you, being earnest unlike the rest of the people you’d run into.

“I’m nervous, to be honest.”

“You’ll be fine!” he assures you.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

History ended up being fine, as Mr. Smith went in full detail of the Battle for Chattanooga, specifically the one on Lookout Mountain. English was stressful, since you were behind on the reading, but your teacher was understanding. When it was time for lunch, you had bitten off almost all of your nails. You were not looking forward to sitting by yourself or worse-being bothered by people wanting to know why.

You gathered your lunch from your locker, and slowly made your way to lunch. By the time you got there, most people were already sitting down, paying you no mind. With your luck, all tables were full. One was mostly empty, except for two boys. One of them, with brown hair and dark brown eyes, smiled at you.

They both gave off the nerdy vibe so you thought you’d give them half of a chance.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” you manage to ask over the fear rising in your stomach.

They both stared at you blankly.

“That’s a yes,” a girl laughs, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table near the wall.

The larger one elbowed the one who had shyly smiled before, and he nods. “Yes, please do! I’m Peter and this is my friend Ned.”

“I’m y/n,” you mumble, quickly eating your food.

“Well it’s nice to meet you!” Peter says, smiling again.

“You wanna eat any faster?” Ned jokes.

You shrug, but begin to eat a bit slower. You wanted to appear more “lady like,” but you roll your eyes at the thought.

Then you pause mid bite of yogurt and your eyes widen as Russell makes his way over. Before you could even leave the cafeteria, he was in front of you, blocking your way out.

“Do you know what we had to endure because of your episode of attempted suicide?” he grumbles, clearly irritated.

You shrug, not wanting to provoke him.

“We had to sit in this shitty assembly while they went on and on about the warning sides of suicide. All because of you. We aren’t even supposed to talk to you, because you’re ‘fragile’ and ‘damaged.’ Well, I just think you are a selfish bastard.” Russell blurts.

“Sorry,” you say, your voice as monotone as your emotions.

“Is that really all you have to say for yourself, you little bitch?”

You look down at the linoleum floor, not saying anything.

“You pathetic little-” he began, throwing a fist right at your face again.

This time, you were ready for it. In not even a blink of the eye, you were behind him and out the door. You moved literally over twenty feet in not even a second. You look back, only seeing Russell dumbfounded and his friends confused. Deciding that it was best not to wait any longer, you race off to the girl’s bathroom to wait for your next class. You step forward, and the next thing you knew, you were in front of the bathroom door- which was at least 40 feet away.

You open the door, beginning to hyperventilate. Your heart begins to race, your body begins to shake, and your breaths become short gasps for air. You feel bile in your mouth as you try not to throw up, and the salty tears as they made it to your lips.

Then you hear your name being called on the speakers, which does not help. You rummage through your purse and take your inhaler, then splash cold water on your face to help you calm down. You gently pat your face dry with a paper towel and blow your nose. You make sure you look as presentable as possible.

Peaking out of the bathroom, you look to see if the hallways were empty. They were.

You then sped walked to the front office, where the last person you ever expected to see was waiting for you.

Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man.

tagging: @ruined-by-destiel @teamfreewill-imagine (if either of you don’t want to be tagged just lmk)

want to be tagged? send me an ask and you’re name will be here for part 2!

#marvel #spiderman #iron man #peter x reader #tony x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel au #julia writes #julia's writing #homecoming fic #spiderman fic #spiderman fanfic #avengers fic #avengers fanfic

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the-mf-bread-babies · 4 years

Text

loneliness </\///\|/3

a fic by rocco wulfram north, m.d.

(found that name on hardcore baby names)

–chmapter jop–

before the tríp

It was a normal day for the Skullsmashers: go to somewhere, kill people, be gay, sleep, get brunch. Right now was the first part of their daily routine, and they were getting ready for it.

“holy fuck nova could you hurry the shit up i have to brush my fucking teeth you bitch” Ace hissed, knocking repeatedly on the bathroom door. “Fuck You. I'm Going To Go To Hell Itself” Nova gargled back, mouth full of mouthwash. More banging was heard; the door had seen better days.

Several feet away was Jake, all dressed up and ready to go, waiting for the others to get ready. He sat on the couch gayly in the living room down the hall, scrolling through Apocalypse Twitter. ‘every day i throw down an unpeeled boiled egg from the rooftop to simulate fear and unreadiness’ he read, a tweet from Orc's account. What the fuck. Classic Orc.

“ah fuck !! am i late !!” Jake turned around to see Damon panicking and counting the daggers in his pockets. “no no not at all. i just get ready really quickly to throw everyone into a state of disarray” Jake replied in an honest, monotone voice. “come sit down”

Damon sat down nervously next to his captain, knowing he'll ask him for Bambi on the PS2 now. “look. look at them those dumbshits” Jake uttered, pointing to Ace and Nova arguing. “those little bastards are completely unaware that ive put a fake cockroach puppet in the mirror. watch now” he added, pulling out a cheap remote control and pressing a button.

*sound of glass breaking* Jake sighed. “okay maybe that wasn't really the best idea” Nova screamed, running out of the bathroom and confusing Ace. “Fucking Roach!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she yelled, already too far away from them to be heard clearly. “huh. well okay then!” Ace grinned, going into the bathroom.

“i'll guard. you do your thing okay? :-)” Damon said to Jake, smiling mischievously. Jake's heart skipped a beat as he was suddenly flustered by the killer's action. «oh god, shit's just gonna get more complicated from here» he thought, staring into nothingness.

Damon braced himself against the bathroom door, eager to hear Ace's chaotic screaming. “ready ??” Damon asked, sending Jake back to the real world. “hhuh??????? oh yea right” he mumbled before beginning to control the cockroach with the remote. “this shit cost me like 200 bucks so it better be worth it”

HOLY MOTHER OF

F U C K

JAKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

WHAT THE S H IT DUDE

ace will remember this.

Jake cackled loudly, rolling on the floor and hitting the table with his fist. “LMAOOOOK FUCK YOUUU” he yelled, angering Ace even more. “I WILL GODDAMN SKIN UOUR FUCKIGN ISTINEDSTINES OLD MAN I SWEAR TKC FUCKF” they yelled back, pushing the door repeatedly. “IM GOIND TO FUCKIGN DIR HERE YOU BITCH”

“ah . ace ? could you move a little please ? i'm trying to get in ?” Damon said annoyingly kindly, making Ace jab a fake knife through the space between the door and the doorway. “THIS IS THE BEST FUCKIGN KNIFE I HAVE ON ME RIGT NOW BUT PLEADR JSUT FUCK O F F”

“hm ... i'll have to check in with the blacksmith today to know what this one's worth... possibly rusted here, though.... could also just be dirt tho.....” Damon mumbled, examining the knife. “FUCKING HEL P” Ace yelled in distress, his breath seeping through the door. “ace. brush your fucking teeth that's disgusting.”

“IM FUCKIF D TRYINF THERES JUST A FUCKGIFN ROSCH HEREERF” Ace explained fearfully, trying their best to get some pity from the other. “a what ?? don't think we have those here” “A FUCKIFN COKROSKC” “corrosion ???? how bad” “FUCK YOU A GODDMAND COKCROACH” “girls?? what?? are they milfs??” “HOW THEE DFUCKDB DID YEOU HEAR FTHAY WHATS DUCUNESKRHI”

Jake's hand slapped against Damon's shoulder as a way of saying thanks. “good work out there soldier. us skullsmashers really need someone like you damon” He said confidently, disguising his flirting as a compliment. “cool !! you too man !!” The shorter man replied, completely unaware of the flirting and continuing to yearn for the mutual love between him and Jake. fuckin idiots lmao

“alrighty fuckers, let's move!”

Rachel's voice sent Ace and Nova into a panic, making them scram to look for their weapons and equipment. “Got everything ya need? W'ain't makin' any stops; tryin'a save fuel.” Shaw asked, leaning against the wall at the entrance menacingly. “When the fuck did you even come here.” Dennis asked in surprise, carrying suitcases. “Hmph. Man never tells his secrets, young man.” She replied, tilting her cowboy hat. “What…”

Aaron was sitting peacefully in the trunk of a pickup truck they had, only to be met by a large backpack to the face. “ah!!!!!!!! very sorry!!!!!!! we'll be going in separate vehicles, and trunk space is very much needed!!!!!!!!” Whitney said, apologizing. “Ah. Well. O-okay then.” Aaron stuttered out, holding back tears from the painful impact the backpack had. Pretty sure he'll get a bruise from that.

Henderson and Rachel were waiting in the front seats of yet another pickup truck. To pass the time, they took very cringey pictures of each other pretending to be on Cowboy TikTok™. “Do one where you're pregnant with the truck's baby!” Henderson suggested, making Rachel flip the bird at her but begrudgingly agreeing with her stupid idea. “i literally would skin you alive.” She spat out, putting a pumpkin inside her shirt. “That's… literally so sexy, babe.” Henderson replied back, taking more pictures.

Meanwhile, Andre was busy explaining to Cyprus, who was in a small glass jar, that forcibly entering Damon's bloodstream and mutilating his entire body was not very nice, with Orc and Sarah judging. “YES BUT UNLIMITED POWER COULD BE RIGHT IN OUR HANDS ANDRE” “That'd very mean of you to do, and could actually probably kill you too in the process.” he explained to deaf ears. Well, technically no ears. Yet. “CYPRUS I KNOW IT SOUNDS STUPID BUT YOU COULD LITERALLY DO THE SAME BUT LIKE IN AN ELEPHANTS BODY DUDE” Orc suggested, only to be ignored. “cmon cyprus just pleaaaaase dont kill ppl ok”

Jake looked outside, then back at Damon. “well guess its time to move!” “yea ... but at what cost.” Damon replied confusingly, making a sad face. “did you know today is…” he started, then regretted saying anything. “nvm…” He turned away from the punk, sniffling and walking to Dennis and Aaron.

“damon” “??” Jake asked quietly, craning his neck a little before making the decision to leave the new recruit alone. Instead, he joined Henderson and Rachel in their odd activities.

“hey guys. i fucking miss sans.” Damon confessed, taking a seat next to Dennis. “My nose is bleeding.” Aaron pointed out. “ok. today's sunday. and you Know what That Means… Meant,” The boy continued, facing the ground. “Kanye West he…” Dennis began (begun???? idk). “… liked.” Aaron continued, also affected emotionally by the departure of not only Sans, but Komaeda too.

Jake stared longingly at the family, wishing he was a part of it too. He truly felt Ariel Little Mermaid's desire to become human. Seven Vagánias… that was a risk he was willing to take for him. He would shave his eyebrows off for that man, and he just might do it right now.

“Jake? Don't do that. Please don't fucking do that.” Henderson suddenly interrupted, surprising Jake. “do what” Henderson squinted her eyes, giving Jake a suspicious look. “That's the face you make when you want to do silly things…” She pointed out.

“You had that when you almost electrocuted yourself at that stable, you had that when you threw the dart at Scoran, you had that when you glued Marcus and Reese–” “OKAY OKAY I GET IT IM A DUMMY SILLY LITTLE BITCH BOY OK”

Rachel put the pumpkin back on the ground and went to the two friends, curious to know what the quarrel was about. “what's poppin gayboy!” She loudly asked, slapping Jake's forearm strongly. “i am in peril and shaking and crying” “daddy issues” “yget?” He explained, gesturing towards the Russells.

“ah. please clarify what kind.” Rachel said, knowing Jake has a very questionable taste for fictional middle-aged men, such as Sigma Overwatch and the guy from the cowboy game. “the fuckin. family one rachel” “look at em just vibing and simply being gay”

Rachel and Henderson gave eachother a look that questioned whether Damon and Jake were going to be a thing or not, since Jake's technically still with Andre. “Considering the fact that they adopted Damon, they could probably also adopt you if you wanted to.” Henderson suggested, knowing Jake wouldn't like this and would stupidly unknowingly accidentally confess his love for Damon to them both right then and there.

“what?????” “ew no thatd be fuckin incest or some shit what the fuck” Jake said, being grossed out. “what would be the incestuous part, jacon. we did not say or hint at anything related to incest.” Rachel asked, making Jake's hair stand up in panic. “fuCKIN NOTHING DUH” “BUT LIKE YKNOW I GET CRUSHES REALLY EASILY YEA??????” Jake explained weirdly.

“So there's a new one right now, huh…” Henderson asked… feeling like she was in Ace Attorney. “no!!!! no wait” “well yea– no.. but i–” “fuck You but yes” Jake grumbled. “ah no, we won't tell, obviously. it was just getting way too obvious, so we just wanted to hear it from both sides.” “WH” Rachel said mysteriously, getting into the driver's seat of the pickup truck. “okay guys let's go!!” She yelled out, starting the engine. “THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??????” “BOTH SIDES???”

chapter dos

two four trucks

The journey to god knows fuckin where idk didn't plan i guess a fuckin cabin or smth idk was long and torturous, especially when Rachel said that cryptic-ass thing before going. What the fuck was that supposed to mean, bro.

sudden interlude for seating arrangements !!

truck 1: Henderson, rachel, whitney, CYPRUS

truck 2: jake, damon, marge, Andre, Aaron

truck 3: ace, Nova, Dennis

truck 4: sarah, ORC, Shaw, viper

truck two.

Jake awkwardly patted Marge's head in the backseat of the truck, avoiding eye contact with Damon and Andre. Of course he had to go on a three-day trip in the same car with his ex, his crush, AND his crush's father. God, he was pretty sure this was the lab rats' doing.

“cows.” Damon pointed outside, earning Andre's attention. “Holy– what are those?” He asked, taking his sunglasses off to admire the beautiful little cows. “Cows… we drink their milk and wear their skin as jackets…” Aaron explained, his eyes drifting from the road momentarily. “They can have best friends and stuff. Really nice guys. Also, they're expensive as hell.”

“Y–You do what. Their skin??” Andre asked, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “yeah and we rate them based on which layer it is. also, like their meat, expensive as hell. but still very cool.” Damon said, confusing Andre even more. “they also give us cheese and ice cream and whipped cream and stuff. underrated little babies. they deserve better.” “they also have nose rings which are punk as hell–”

“Wait, why the nose– cheese?! Cheese?! AND ice cream??!” Andre asked again, his mind attempting to comprehend the greatness that cows are. “Oh man, you are not ready to hear about pigs.” Aaron said jokingly. “What the fuck are pigs???” “Sausages, ham slices, bacon, lard, leather too, rotisserie–” “aaron please i'm gonna throw up.” “Oh, right. Sorry,”

Jake sat quietly in his seat, just now realising how much of his world Andre's missing. Sure, his world was much cooler, but do they have sheep? Palm trees? Penguins? Thought not, bitch. “andre do you know what a kangaroo is” He asked, breaking his silence like that one YouTuber.

“A what?” “kangaroo. some of them are buff as shit and they move by hopping. they cant hop backwards and they also keep their babies in little pouches attached to them and their bones and guts are exposed on the inside of said pouch. baby kangaroos are about the size of a jellybean, and the adults can box you”

“They what” “yea they're weird as fuck.” “its from australia so” “That sounds fake.” “oh man. wombats bro. quokkas. fuckin drop bears and flying foxes. PLATYPUSES!!!” “wombats poop in cubes and quokkas are always smiling” “Koala bears hold onto tree branches and eat their mom's shit, which is the leaves of said tree branches.” “Please stop what the fuck” “ohoho fucking GEESE” “GET IM JAKE MY NEIGHBOR HAD FUCKIN THREE OF THOSE BITCHES”

truck three.

The three sat silently, with the exception of Dennis, who was swearing at random times. “You call that a fuckin’ turn, old man?! HUH?!!” Ace's shoulders jumped, the sudden exclamations preventing them from sleeping through the trip. “This Is Probably The Last Time We'll See Each Other Alive.” Nova stated calmly. “i slept for like two minutes last night… didn't even get to wear conditioner today. unrelated but just sharing my struggles with you.” Ace said, shifting into a more comfortable sleeping position.

Dennis overheard the two talking, and opted to stay quiet for the rest of the trip, before stumbling across a strange sight. “FROG!!!” he yelled, waking up the duo. “he said fuck! he said the f” Ace yelled out while rubbing their eyes. “Are We Aliven't” Nova asked, stretching. “Sadly, no, but the good news is, I found a frog!” Dennis excitedly said, opening the car door.

“WHAT” “THAT SHITS GONNA POISON US WHAT THE FUCK” Nova yelled out, unfortunately not loud enough for Dennis to hear it. The man kept walking towards the creature that was technically an alien to them, and picked it up with watery hands. “DENNIS YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING KILL US ALL!!!!!!! DENNIS!!!!!!”

“So, you kids know how to handle a frog?” Dennis asked in a wholesome tone, alerting the two even more. “KILL IT KILL IT FUCKING KILL IT” “Oh, are you guys allergic to this little guy? Sorry, I'll put it in the dashboard instead.” “GET ITBOUT WHAT THE FUCK DENNID JESUS” “… Huh?” “POSIOJ DART FOGR” Nova shouted, hiding behind the passenger seat and being pushed by Ace, who was also going to hide there. “BITCH”

Dennis and the frog stared at them in confusion, hearing their horrified screams. “This is… a wood frog… not a poison dart… that one would probably die in this climate…” he explained plainly, his hands gently cupping the newfound friend. “oh. ok” Ace muttered quietly, while Nova maintained an awkward silence. “You can… pat them very softly if you want.” Dennis suggested. “Or spray the shit outta them. That could work too.”

Nova nervously held out her hand to pat the frog, then smiled in succeeding to do so. “Death Quivers Before Me” She said, proceeding to pat it even more. “can i do the spray thing.” Ace asked, their voice quiet as a whisper. “Yeah, sure. Go right ahead.”

*the frog was going to die so technically they didnt like fuck up the ecosystem or smth. do not attempt this irl.

truck four.

“What jolly tunes d'ya have on this here truck. Fellas.” Shaw asked, observing the radio. “uh, really, i don't think it'll be necessary!!!!!” Viper nervously said, only to be ignored. “NONSENSE! ONE'S TASTE IN SHANTIES PROVES TO BE A WINDOW INTO THEIR LIVES.” Orc said wisely, patting them on the shoulder. “i guess that's good advice, but really–”

TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. MY MUSCLES. MY MUSCLES. INVOLUNTARILY FLEX.

“I SEE. A MATING SONG FOR YOUR SPECIES?” “my truck f### playlist,.,.,.” Viper tried to mute the speaker to no avail as most of the buttons on the control panel were very much broken. “I'm. Very sorry for this, pardner. But this doesn't sound so bad. I could put this in a jukebox…” Shaw consoled, only making them panic more. “im so f#ckig sorry” They said, before smashing the radio with a briefcase.

They all paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. “i have spotify…” Sarah croaked, holding up her phone. “they have lemon demon too, if you want…” She muttered, scrolling through the song choices. “does anyone want to listen to wet a–” “no.” “okay.”

The truck grew even quieter for a while, until Shaw gave a suggestion to pass the time. “Wanna play 20 questions?” “I'll start: how many folks have y'all killed?” Viper gave the assassin a horrified look, confusing her. “I think mine's around 150. No… 145…” She confessed, rubbing her chin. “Wait, or was it 160?”

“like six. do you like girls, and, follow up question, do you also coincidentally like short girls with long hair.” Sarah said without hesitation, stopping Orc from answering the first question. “Yes! I literally have a wife!” Shaw shouted happily, rolling up her sleeves to show Sarah her tattoos. “This one is her setting herself on fire and me getting inspired–” “ah, yes–” “That one was a total cover-up! Previously, it was the names of my exes, all thirteen of them, but now, it's my cat!”

After some time of receiving a bit too much RexShaw lore, Sarah finally got the answer she so desperately needed from Viper. This was the verdict that determines whether she could make a move or not. This answer could change– “i am gay and do not get attracted to women. thank you.” Ah. Back to more hunting. “I am a lesbian! High-five!” Shaw exclaimed.

And finally, the first truck.

truck one.

Loud country music blared in the truck as they drove by the snowy mountains of uhh. Winsnow. Like winter and snow. They had all chosen separate routes in order to cover more land and see if there were any new developments in the area.

“BRANDY!!! FETCH ANOTHER ROUNF!!!!!!” Rachel screeched as she drummed on the dashboard. “AND SHE FJSJS” Henderson kept driving, searching every inch of land for a rest stop to stretch her legs and also listen to something else.

“hendy.” Rachel said, getting her girlfriend's attention. “do you wanna buy that slime that cleans cars and stuff?” Henderson stared into the distance, pondering. “Hm. There's always the possibility of the slime disappearing under mysterious circumstances and turning up in the trash can the next day covered in saliva, so.” Whitney looked away, feeling attacked.

“yeah, that's a problem.” Rachel muttered, her hand instinctually moving to Henderson's. “Please don't crash the car.” She begged, looking sadly at her. “is there a domino's nearby. i heard they have that new peanut butter chocolate lava cake.” Rachel asked, cupping Henderson's face gently.

“Rachel. There's fucking mountains.” Henderson pointed out, gesturing towards their surroundings. “That shit will freeze.” Rachel put her head down in disappointment. “yeah. damn.” “MORE FLESH!!! MORE FLESH!!! MORE FUCKING FLESH!!!”

Oh yeah, Cyprus was here the whole time. “why does the metal say fuck?????” And Whitney too! “MIND YOUR OWN GODDAMN BUSINESS. FLESH NEEDED!” Cyprus yelled out, resembling a hungry toddler on a road trip.

“do you want like a burger or something......” Whitney asked, judging the spirit. “FLESH” “like are you more of a kfc or a mcdonalds guy” “NEED FLESH” She gave the couple a look, one that was kind of undecipherable due to her lack of normal face details like eyebrows, visible pupils, etc.

“So, three peanut butter lava cakes and one meat lover's… what else?” “ah!!!!!! no lava cake for me, i'm on a diet!!!!!! dirt and dirt only!!!!!!!!!!! also fish bones as a treat” Whitney corrected, her eyes searching for a nearby body of water. “Or, we could get Cyprus the fish meat, and Whitney the bones.” “sounds good to me!!!!!!!!” “FLESH”

…

“welcome to domino's! can i get your order?”

“three peanut butter lava cakes, please. that's all. thank you.” Rachel said, her seat switched with Henderson's, who was too nervous to order. “okay but they each take like three hours to make” “what.” “yea you can stop by like the grocery store up ahead” “fuck you for ordering this” “i–” “fuck off”

the grocewy stowe

The truck stopped by the front of the building, Rachel telling them to go in first while she searches for a good parking spot. Much to Henderson's disappointment.

“My lover…” Henderson said with fear in her voice. “it's okay… go along… i… i have to do this for you…” “for you all… i won't forget the good that you've done to me and everyone i've ever known…” “Rach, please don't go, I lo–” “you all are the kindest people… heaven may wait eagerly for you, but as for me, the ground trembles for its latest meal. fresh from the oven, i will enter the furnace…” “why the fuck would they cook you again” “because i'm TOAST!!” “haha”

“Kill Ronald Reagan while you're at it… I forgot which one he is but I'm pretty sure he's a total bitch…” “i will meet you doomguy” “heeeeeeeh” Rachel whined weakly as she slowly drove over to the spot she wanted.

MOTHERFUCKER.

A silver Honda Civic quickly made its way into there, angering the scientist. “not on my watch, fucker.” Rachel muttered, sliding the pickup truck across the road. She slammed her palm onto the car horn, which terrified even a murder of crows.

“huh wonder who that is” “hm anyway which fish do u like ???? :-)”

A woman who seemed to be in her late 40s exited the Honda Civic, throwing a rather large and flashy boa around her neck. “Jesús, ít's cold in hère,” The lady commented, putting on a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. “Márie, come along, ma cheghhy!” (i forgot how to spell it)

oh, son of a B I T C H .

it's the french lady who smells weird.

Of course, seeing your enemy in any circumstance that wasn't planned was clearly a little scary and will probably be your last day alive, but bumping into them at a Target was kinda… awkward.

Both the hazelnut and the dolphin were less armed and armoured than usual, and there weren't any bodyguards or security. Usually, if a top leader goes anywhere, the standard protocol was to do thirty separate background checks on the location and have it guarded up somewhere in the three months before their arrival.

So, obviously, someone in Top 50 driving around town in a decades-old car buying groceries isn't very safe, or probably even legal. Hell, she hasn't even seen them wear anything this ridiculous ever. Could this be a distraction? Or is it an opportunity?

Ah, wait, they're both wearing their stupid little marriage bracelets.

It's the middle of October.

This is their anniversary vacation.

Shit.

in the store

Henderson strolled through the aisles with Whitney at her side, hugging Cyprus's jar. She examined the cereal boxes to make sure they didn't contain any food colouring that could potentially kill her.

Whitney, on the other hand, zoomed over to the meat section, licking her lips at the sight of a raw cod. “cyprus…… do you feel that? the need to devour a being???? the uncontrollable desire for energy that it transcends all laws and regulations placed on mankind?????? the growing hunger for power, one that's so strong it controls your every need????

a natural, primal instinct to become such a brutal being that no one, not even you, recognise yourself anymore. you look at yourself in the mirror and you feel like you want to destroy that, to put yourself onto the pedestal you belong on, to wreak havoc on the cosmos of all beings, living and dead, real and mythical, walking and extinct.

you know that you're the only who understands this instinct, the only one who follows it to this distance. everyone else may underestimate you, but in the end, you'll rise above them all. man's natural instinct is to become the ruler of all.”

“What the fuck, Whitney. Anyway, I talked to the deli guy and he said he could pay you to eat up some scraps if you want. You down?” Henderson asked, her trolley already full of snacks. “yea fuck it man” Whitney replied, walking over to the ‘staff only’ door. “im hungy as fuck”

parking lot.

Despite the growing need to kill the woman, Rachel was managing to control herself. Even though this was the perfect opportunity to eliminate one of them, she knows she'll be replaced by someone much crueler. So for now, she'll just stick to watching this lady consider which can of tomato sauce is better than the other.

Rachel parked the truck near the entrance and the Honda Civic. She kept an eye on the couple as she quietly made her way inside through the back door.

“So thàt's when Í saìd, ‘that's not a cactùs, that's a lámp!” Karén playfully said, her hand entwined with her wife's. Rachel was unsure whether to stalk the two or join her friends in shopping.

WELL, FIND THAT OUT IN THE NEXT PART,

B I T C H !! !! !!

0 notes

ciscoshairconditioner · 8 years

Text

Texts Between Strangers

Note: female/woman ‘reader’

---

Hey, it was really nice meeting you last night. Maybe we can grab lunch tomorrow? This is Cisco btw.

The text pops up on your phone screen as you're scrolling through social media. You've been lounging in bed on this rainy Saturday morning planning on doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the day but binge watch The Walking Dead and order thai take out later. You just stare at the text for a minute, blinking.

You definitely didn't give your number to anyone last night because all you did yesterday was pull a double shift at Jitters because they've been short staffed lately. A long day at work usually left you looking a bit wrecked so you're damn sure there wasn't anyone slipping their digits your way either.

This person has the wrong number.

You frown a little bit for them because you wonder if the wrong number was intentional. You've had to give a creepy dude the wrong number on purpose before just so he'd leave you alone. You finally reply after another minute.

Hi I didn't give my number to anyone. Sorry dude, they gave you a wrong number.

You figure that will be the end of that and roll out of bed only to shuffle your way to your comfy couch for some TV time. The notification on your cell pings again and you glance at it, brows raising when you see it's wrong number guy.

For real? This isn't [Girl's Name]? And you weren't at Stanley's Bar last night?

You've actually been to Stanley's a lot over the past couple years since you moved to Central City but last night was not one of them.

My name is definitely not [Girl's Name] and even though I love Stanley's for the sole fact drunk me can make peanut shell confetti rain everywhere during karaoke and not get in trouble, I for real wasn't there last night.

You felt like you were a tad on the sassy side with that text but he was a stranger who apparently one girl had already blown off so you figured he must not be worth much niceties anyways. You were always for girl power so even though you had no idea who [Girl's Name] was, you were going to go with her assessment of wrong number guy, what'd he say his name was? You scrolled up in the message feed, ah—Cisco.

Best peanuts in CC, read his next text which came with a peanut and praise hands emojis.

You laughed and said aloud “Agreed.” as you typed the same reply.

You're flicking through saved episodes of Walking Dead on your DVR, trying to find where you left off when another text comes through. You already have a suspicion its him again before even looking.

I must have heard her say the wrong numbers, it was so loud in there last night :(

Your brow furrows at this one. You remember why you avoid Stanley's on Friday nights. It's usually two for ones and they aways try to get local rock bands to come play. It tends to get too crowded, too hot and yes—too noisy, in there. You read over the text again and find yourself frowning along with his sad emoji.

Next time, you gotta just hand her your phone. No mistakes can be made then. Unless you have an embarassing wallpaper.

His reply is immediate, Pfft no way. It's followed by a screenshot of his actual phone background and a typed No shame along with it.

You're not sure if its a Harry Potter lightning bolt or a reference to Central City's local hero, The Flash. Either way, you're impressed. Wizards or Superheros, a cute guy could totally score your number if you peeped that wallpaper on his phone. Well, the jury is still out on if this guy is cute, you think.

You're right, that is legit. Maybe you did just hear the numbers wrong.

Of course I did. You make it sound like something else. You can't tell if his text was meant to sound cocky or confused.

You bite your lip and reply. Well...

??? is shot back instantly and you sigh.

You decide to just keep it real with him. Guys tend to be overbearing when picking up women. You sure you weren't reading her wrong?

I happen to read people's vibes quite accuratley. She totally was feelin all of this. There's even a smirking emoji.

Alight, cocky it is. You laugh and decide to challenge it. All of what? You send the eyes emoji along with it and wait patiently for him to chicken out.

That's when he sends a picture. Your phone drops into your lap and your mouth hangs open.

It's him.

It's the Jitters customer you've been crushing on for the past year. And that's his name? Cisco?Everytime he places an order to go he always thinks it's hilarious to use the name of a famous fictional character. You've been trying to psych yourself up for months just to work up the courage to ask him for his name and maybe out on a date.

Your mind races with all the daydreams and fantasies you've had starring him. They range from adorable ones where you accidentally bump into him, coffee spilling all over him and you both blushing profusely while you attempt to clean him up; to downright explicit ones where you're the only one on closing shift and he's the last customer so you lock the doors and ravish him right there in one of the plush accent chairs.

You take a smooth five minutes to freak the hell out.

What finally pulls you away from your panic is the muffled sound of your cellphone. You hurridely dig it out from the depths of the couch.

You pass out from all the hotness huh? Lol

You just stare at the message. All language escaping you in that moment. You hadn't attempted flirting since coming to live in Central City. You left a pretty toxic relationship behind and wanted a fresh start. You had spent the past couple years focusing on finishing your MA but now that graduation was right around the corner, you suppose you could actually start dabbling in that real life stuff again. How many hours had you spent making unrequeited heart eyes at a stranger in a coffee shop? You weren't too sure about the mechanics of fate and destiny or whatever.

“Of all the wrong numbers in all the towns in all the world he texts mine,” You blink, “Err, or something like that.” You say to your phone.

You're startled out of your dramatic monologue by another text from Cisco. My self confidence is increasingly deflating :|

Crap. You realize you haven't sent anything back to him in fifteen minutes. You just type fast and without much thought because you're scared if you think too hard on it you'll back out. Being behind a screen is supposed to make people a little more fearless, right?

Haha no it shouldn't. Its just that I've actually seen that handsome face before. :)

“That's only mildy creepy.” You say to yourself upon rereading your message.

That's... not creepy at all. Is his response, follwed by a How?

Well, we do live in the same city and I work at a popular hang out. You decide to tease him.

Oh, are you that redhead from Big Belly Burger? I told you the offer was flattering but I don't date high schoolers.

You have a good laugh at that before replying, Um, not a BBB employee or a high schooler. I assure you, you're texting a grown woman.

Oh yeah? A grown woman who can do whatever she wants? ;)

You think there's a Beyonce reference in there. Yes is your simple reply.

Idk. I could be getting catfished rn.

You scoff at that. If anyone could be getting catfished, it's me. You texted first.

True, but I genuinely did think you were someone else.

It's followed by another text. Hold up. On reinspection, I've actually have been incredibly generous. Ive given you my name, wallpaper AND my picture. The only thing I know is one place you don't work and that you're karaoke friendly. I think you have to pay some dues miss.

You scoff for a second but then realize you have withheld more than what he's given up in this conversation. You're nervous as you type back, What do you want?

Simple. Even trade. Name, wallpaper, and picture. Gimme.

Another text bubble appears, Please :D

You text him your name and hold your breath wondering if it will spark any memory. You have taken his order countless times at Jitters.

:D One down, two to go!

You sigh and nervously smile to yourself. You snap a screenshot of your phone background, which is just a quote thats partially obscured by your apps. You picked it to ground yourself, to make you never forget your self worth again. You haven't changed it since you moved to Central City. It simply reads 'I am too full of life to be half loved.' You send it on it's way and then go scrolling through your recent selfies to find a picture of yourself looking somewhat decent.

That's some sage advice. You should send me the actual pic so I can pin that to my quotes board on pinterest :)

You smile while sending over the original for him.

Thanks! Now last but not least...

You've picked a picture you took right before going out to a show a couple of weeks ago. You felt confident that night because of your new show stopping outfit and the fact that your hair did absolutely what you wanted it to do. You held your breath as you sent the picture, knowing that for sure he'd have to know who you were. The awkward, babbling barrista that often times tripped over her own two feet.

A minute went by without a reponse. Your nerves were catapulting all over the place while you just sat there and stared at your phone.

Finally a new message notification pinged and you swallowed hard as you opened it. Then, your heart stopped for a second.

Its you. The text simply reads.

What's that supposed to mean? You think. Before you can form a reply, he's sent another text.

I mean, you work at Jitters. I've definitely seen that beautiful face before. :) He mimics your reply to him earlier.

You feel a blush blooming across your face along with what your sure is a goofy smile. Yeah, surprise haha

Would it be weird to say my original question still stands?

You blink in confusion. Excuse me?

It's just that, I've always thought you were cute and you laugh at all my made up names when I order. It's a beautiful laugh btw. You're mouth has dropped open and you just reread the message a few times and then reply.

Hold up. Why haven't you asked me out before?

I've um... had some bad luck in the past with Jitters barristas. Figured I'd steer clear for a while.

And now?

Well now fate has given me your number so I figure I should just go with it :D

You bite your lip to try and control the goofy smile that's forming. Lunch sounds great.

Your phone slips free of your graps and you look up to stare out the window. The sky is clear and bright.

#cisco ramon x reader #cisco imagine #cisco ramon fan fiction #cisco x reader #cisco ramon

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