This post made my brain go brr. thank you so much @xinesthetic
As promised a Nice addition :D He's super normal about it :D
He's experiencing an emotion, that's for sure and maybe has some kind of realization. Good for Wreck. In my thoughts this all happens before the beer fight. You know what I mean.
No but also? The parallels? Like if we assume that Smile was kinda pressured into the heteronormative family route and Nice was probably gonna go down that way too. Those two (X and Wreck) would understand each others plight and get along well.
Also X having white hair would probably make Wreck call him Nice at least once.
In reference to this post: Wreck and X are alive and powerful cuz they had gay sex. That's why they survived. It wasn't good gay sex that's why they are miserable. But ey. A win is a win.
The pain came in waves, it was the first sensation to return to Wreckx’s limp body. Pain in his bones, caressing him in ways that no human ever would. It radiated all over, then specified itself to the back of his neck, his chest, his stomach, his right arm, both knees. It was dull, and hot.
Next came taste. Metal on his tongue. He recognized the taste of blood, hoping that it was his own. Had he bitten his tongue at some point during his trip into the darkness? It didn’t feel so.
Then, the realization of life. He was alive. Cold air filled his lungs, which his body quickly rejected, sending him into a sputtering coughing fit on the ground. Ground? Whatever was under him was hard and cold, but he felt no movement in the air and heard no activity around him, just silence loud enough to join the ringing in his ears.
Finally, he opened his eyes. He was greeted by darkness, only able to make out faint shapes thanks to being adjusted to the dark. He looked, and found the edge where the wall met the floor, and the ceiling. The corners of the room. The outline of a door. Some kind of box up in the top corner of the room. Pits in the ceiling where lights sat. Aside from him, the room was completely bare and unpopulated, devoid of both life and furniture. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all smooth and showed no signs of wear.
He pushed his palms down into the floor, attempting to force his body up. His jacket was gone. Half-sitting in the middle of the room, he was left in his old, loose t-shirt and sweatpants, though they had taken the drawstring from them, and his shoes were gone but his socks remained.
Pushing up further, coming to sit up, his body protested by sending violent, nauseating waves of pain through him. With a groan, Wreckx lifted his shirt and was met by several large bruises, splattered across his stomach and chest.
He chewed on his tongue, pain to distract from other pain. He had to leave, if he didn’t leave, he would be killed. It was a fact of reality that he was certain of. His body barely obeyed his order to stand, and gave up when he tried to take a step, sending him clattering to the ground in a pile of bones.
Without his jacket, everything hurt. The way his shoulders and hips pressed against the ground, his arm pinned against his side. He had no padding, no fat or muscle. Ringing in his head, he couldn’t help but remember the giggling comment made by his ex-girlfriend, who claimed that it felt like she was hugging a skeleton.
She wouldn’t even be disappointed he ended up like this, it was all foreseeable, and it was all he deserved.
Hot, frustrated tears stung in his eyes. What kind of man is he, crying on the ground, unable to defend himself, weak and pathetic? There was never any point to him, to his existence. Everyone else knew that, Wreckx was the only one stupid enough to ever think otherwise, if even for a moment. The others were trying to teach him that, to punish him in some desperate attempt to help him, to make him better, and he was the one who refused.
A metallic, electronic squeal broke Wreckx from his thoughts. Feedback, microphone feedback, Wreckx knew it well. The dark shape in the upper corner of the room was a speaker box, inelegantly shoved there.
“Hey, little guy.” Spoke a voice through the box. It sounded like the same person who had captured him, he thought.
Wreckx opened his mouth to speak, assuming that this room would be equipped with some kind of microphone and camera somewhere, but only managed a pathetic squeak before being sent into a painful coughing fit on the floor. His throat burned, any noise he attempted to make brought a sharp pain.
“Easy there, buddy.” The person on the other end of the speaker box said. So this room was surveilling Wreckx. “We don’t want you too messed up just yet, alright?”
Wreckx wanted to yell profanities at the speaker box, but the metallic taste on his tongue gave him pause. It was for the best that he didn’t strain his voice too much, he didn’t know what kind of damage that brute had done.
“Alright,” The voice spoke again, “I’m not the guy who’s been messaging you, that’s my boss. And yours now too.”
Fixing his position, Wreckx sat cross legged and glared at the speaker box, assuming that the camera was located nearby. Nobody was his boss, certainly not AnonyMouse. Wreckx wasn’t stupid enough to think that he had the upper hand in this exchange, but he wasn’t about to roll over for this clown.
“You might notice your neural interface has been tampered with. We’ve installed new software and hardware that will capture all of your senses in sweet, sweet downloadable format.” The person was all too casual about this, had they done this before? Had they done worse? So AnonyMouse is, what, exploiting Wreckx? Trying to get some weird, voyeuristic footage of him? “There are a lot of sick puppies in the world that pay good money for full-sensory virtual reality experiences. The grittier, the more painful, the better.”
Wreckx’s heart stopped for a moment, his blood ran cold in his veins. He had heard of these kinds of things, the VR experiences. They were spoken about in seedy forums that he frequented in his alone time, but he had seen the enjoyers of such things swear up and down that it was all consensually made by hard core masochists. They were probably just saying that to ease their guilt, Wreckx thought. Though he never wished he was wrong more than this very moment.
“We can all tell you fuck yourself up on purpose, maybe you’ll even enjoy it.” The speaker said offhandedly. Their words were nothing to them, but they had Wreckx crossing his arms, trying to hide his scarred skin. He didn’t have it in him to be pissed off, he was still stuck in the shock of being told he was going to be tortured for content.
Wreckx pulled no joy or pleasure from pain, self inflicted or otherwise. He didn’t like it, but he was addicted to it. To the way it quieted his thoughts, the buzzing feeling he got at the back of his skull and under all his skin, even the smell of metal in the air. He loved the ritual of it, the relief it brought knowing that it was making up for all the bad he had done, all the bad he was. But this was different, this was too much. He didn’t choose this, he didn’t want this.
“I’ll be the one bringing you your food throughout the day. There’s a bathroom and shower attached to your room, I’m sure our boss would appreciate it if you kept yourself camera-ready.” Wreckx swore that he could hear voices in the background of the person’s words. “I doubt I’ll be the one doing anything to you, AnonyMouse took quite an interest in you in particular.”
Wreckx swallowed down the metallic tang in his mouth and finally broke eye contact with the speaker.
“Why me?” Wreckx croaked out. What was so special, so terrible about him that AnonyMouse wanted to subject him to this? Yes, Wreckx was bad, disgusting, despicable, but wasn’t this a step too far? When he was finally faced with the consequences of his actions, he couldn’t help but cower.
Instead of dignifying him with a response, the person on the other end broke into laughter before cutting the line.
X and Wreck knowing each other intruiges me to no end.
Let's pretend in this situation Wreck was sent to reshuffle some houses for Treeman and maybe one of those houses was a Cafe X likes and was sitting in so he had to get involved. And for Shang De reasons Nice is late only to find his bf being flirted with >:O the audacity! And Wreck is just like: That was not in the script! How am I supposed to deal with this?!
I am not saying this is how any of them would act in canon. But I have fun with Nice being possessive af (and a little scary unhinged) and Wreck being REALLY into it.
Nice: "He's mine. Never touch him again or I'll break every singe one of your fingers." (So he can no longer snap and arguably is powerless. No clue if that's how it works but imma just run with this ^u^)
X: "Haha lol sure! No worries." (He's NOT dealing with this kind of insanity XD which is very reasonable and fair imo) (Also fun fact the font I used is called Snap and that's the entire reason I used it for him XD)
X snapped away Wreck's mask to see what's hidden behind and can appreciate the view
also in case you were wondering: yes Nice is licking Wreck's face where X touched him because gotta mark his territory and clean his beloved
There was never a time where Wreckx wished he could drive more than the moment he set foot on the bus that evening. It’s not that he hadn’t tried before. In his previous life- the years that he had spent with his parents before being unceremoniously kicked out- he did give driving an honest attempt. Call it anxiety or call it pure patheticness, Wreckx couldn’t help the way he locked up behind the wheel. So now, he was left to ride the bus to his death. Maybe AnonyMouse would just jump him in the alley, stab or shoot him, take the drive, and leave him to die. To anyone passing by, it’d look like he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. To anyone who knew him, they’d know he had it coming.
The drive containing the footage and collected data was a weight in his pocket- a black hole that he was being crushed by. There was no doubt in his mind that, of everyone else on the sparsely populated bus, he was the worst off. He couldn’t even wallow in his pity, everything had happened so quickly, and it was all his fault, after all.
Wreckx was never an idiot, he was wise enough to know that meeting his benefactor in some alleyway on the other side of town was not going to have positive consequences for him. Part of him couldn’t stop weighing his alternatives over and over.
He could turn around and go back home, catch another bus back, just deal with whatever was going to happen. If AnonyMouse made good on their threat, Wreckx would wind up with a bullet in his head or thrown in prison, and he obviously would not survive either.
He could just leave. Call a taxi, catch a ride, get out of the city and leave everything behind. No, he couldn’t leave Screwloose behind. Besides, AnonyMouse would probably still be able to find him somehow, and there wasn’t a single place in the country where law enforcement couldn’t touch him. He didn’t have the kind of money or status that one would need to become untouchable.
The brakes of the bus whined as it came to a stop, and a muffled, unintelligible voice rang out over the shitty speakers. Such an announcement system was a relic, from before technology’s advancement. Before people started putting electronics on the insides of their skulls. Anybody who was hearing the driver call the stop for the first time would’ve been clueless about what was said, but Wreckx knew that it was already time for him to hop off and head to his gallows.
His boots hit the sidewalk, water scattering underneath him. The streetlights above him flickered dimly, only one out of every four was functional enough to put out any light at all. He never noticed how dark this part of town was until now. It was tucked away from all the neon lights and business of downtown or the arts and tech districts. Yet it wasn’t a part of town that he felt unsafe in, until now.
Maple Street was quiet, populated by a few apartment buildings, with the majority of the units in them sitting empty. This area was simply too inconvenient for people to want to live in, unless they had a specific reason to. Did Anonymouse operate out of here? Or did they just pay someone here to put Wreckx down in an alleyway like a dog, the disgusting animals that they are?
He was making assumptions. Maybe they wouldn’t harm him after all. He had been so obedient recently, doing all that they asked... No, that would be too hopeful for someone like him.
A pit of shame settled in his chest. He wasn’t even fighting this. He wasn’t giving living the barest, briefest chance. He simply walked forward, counting the street signs until he got close to the one he needed. Wreckx knew that he was a hopeless creature, and he should have been grateful he made it this far in the first place.
All the torment, however well deserved, led here. All the times he got his shit rocked for taking upskirts, or when he would plant cameras in dive bar bathrooms, it wasn’t enough punishment. He deserved more. Maybe he should’ve gone to church more when he had the chance.
He walked past Maple Street the first time. Several minutes had passed of him staring at his shoes for him to realize that the alley he needed was half a block behind him, and the meet up time was rapidly approaching. Wreckx had to turn on his heel and jog back towards the intersection before finally finding the two large blue water tanks that AnonyMouse had mentioned in their message.
Those two tanks stood there like the gates to hell, easily dwarfing Wreckx and capable of doing so to a man twice his size. His boot squished something wet as he stepped further in. He couldn’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary aside from his heartbeat pounding in his ears. There was no evidence of anyone here.
Was he too late? Had AnonyMouse left already? He looked up at the apartment balconies that hung over the alleyway. A few of them cast golden light at one another, but many more were dark. Nobody populated the balconies, nobody to witness his execution.
Wreckx shoved his hand in his pocket, turning the data drive over in his fingers again. It was still there, AnonyMouse hadn’t collected it yet, so they still need him. Why did they care so much about what some kids at a college party had on their phones? AnonyMouse didn’t even want the information on the devices integrated into their brains. Most people had them now, including Wreckx and assumedly most people at that party.
Step.
Somebody was behind him. The dull glow from the streetlights was overshadowed by a figure. Wreckx moved to put one foot in front of the other and run down the alley, but he was halted before he could take the first step by a thick forearm around his neck, and a body against his back.
His feet left the floor, his hands scrambled to grab at the arm holding him up. He had been beaten up in alleyways before- typically as punishment for staring at someone’s girlfriend- but he hadn’t ever been picked up like this.
His weight, as light as it was, was all put on his neck and back. He felt like his head was going to come off. He tried to gasp for breath, only managing a half wheeze. The pressure in his face was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, he was going to pop.
Wreckx clawed at the arm, though it yielded little effect besides popping off one of Wreckx’s press-on nails. The only sounds he made were pathetic, sputtering gasps while he kicked his legs wildly, gaining no traction. Dark stars pressed in from the corners of his vision, his ears rang. If the person behind him said anything, he couldn’t hear it.
He felt a sting in his side, and the feeling of something rushing into him, something being injected to him. Within seconds, his jaw loosened, his eyes drifted shut, and his hands released the arm around his throat.
“I hope that was the right dose,” The voice behind him said, before releasing their hold on him and letting his body fall in a pile on the ground. “I didn’t realize you were such a little guy.”
Wreckx tried futilely to move, the cold puddle soaking his clothes felt like pins and needles on his skin. His head swam, the words spoken above him didn’t register in his brain, the ringing took over, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
cw: unlikeable whumpee, stalking, creepy whumpee, male whumpee, autistic whumpee (written by autistic writer), cyberstalking, self hatred, unreliable narrator, drugging/roofies
Masterlist
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Everything around Wreckx moved in a blur. He was conscious, but it was difficult to stay so. He tried shoving one of his hands down under his body, attempting to push up against the floor and get up, but he couldn’t. His arm trembled, wobbled, then gave way and he was back on the floor. He knew he must be bright red from embarrassment, how fucking humiliating. He was some unemployed twenty-something who snuck into a college frat party to take pictures of the guests, and now he was passing out on the floor.
Wait. Why was he passing out? He had a few drinks in a short time, but he wasn’t that much of a lightweight, even if he was sub-130-pounds. Vaguely, he could feel drool running down his cheek. Vaguely again, he could hear people laughing. Fuck, he was humiliated. He was letting teenagers embarrass him.
Words bubbled over his head, he heard what sounded somewhat like a question before he was moving again. He was being moved. A hand on the back of his hoodie, lifting his torso off the ground and dragging his legs as he was pulled easily.
He somewhat registered his limp neck pressing against the collar of his hoodie, effectively restricting his air intake. He couldn’t stop it from happening, he just had to hope that it wouldn’t last too long.
The warm, fuzzy light of the inside of the building left to the background, and the cool air and darkness of the outdoors overtook his senses. He heard laughing. He felt his body get tossed through the air before pain bloomed on his shoulder and cheek. The warm yellow light disappeared, whatever door he was thrown through was shut.
Humiliating.
He wanted to cry but he wasn’t lucid enough to.
Wreckx just let his eyes shut, allowing himself to float through the tense darkness that clouded his mind.
While he was drifting in and out, nothing happened. Nothing much, at least. Certainly nobody helping him, but at least nobody hurt him. He was just left on the ground, on the asphalt of whatever grimy space existed between the buildings here. Maybe somebody would come and find him. Maybe someone would hurt him more, he certainly deserved it.
But deep down, Wreckx knew that he wasn’t important enough for that. That he was fated to lay there in pain with his head swimming until he passed out.
When he woke up, there was a pounding behind his eyes and a strange sickly shimmer on everything he looked at. Like the surface of every object had veins full of glitter and it was only making his headache worse. But fine, he got the things he was asked to get. He just had to bring them home and upload them to AnonyMouse.
As Wreckx made his way home, his mind wandered about his mysterious benefactor. In his gut, he knew that AnonyMouse probably wasn’t looking for this data and footage because the kids’ parents wanted to know what their children got up to. Though Wreckx couldn’t puzzle out more than that, not with his brain wanting to break out of his skull. It wasn’t like he was putting hidden cameras in their bedrooms, this was just some footage of some teenagers at a party, and whatever was on their phones. Wreckx, of course, was too morally corrupt to care about handing over their phone data. Maybe AnonyMouse would get into their bank accounts or something, Wreckx didn’t give a shit about that. These kids could take it, it wasn’t that bad.
Or maybe they’d get location trackers put on their phones. With an even semi-competent hacker, the entirety of the phone’s data would be enough to wirelessly upload a tracker, even from long distance. That made him feel a little sick, but then he remembered that AnonyMouse already knew where they were.
The bus slowed to a stop and Wreckx got off, heading into his apartment building. The neon lights outside faded into the cool darkness of his apartment. Screwloose, his robot cat, was there and waiting for him. He greeted Wreckx with a mechanical purr, but Wreckx couldn’t force himself to pay any attention to his robotic pet.
Wreckx had just enough energy to flop into bed on top of his blankets, still dressed in his pathetic outfit he’d worn to try to fit in at that party. His back was still wet from the puddle he was thrown into, his untoned, bleach yellow hair had dirt and muck embedded in it. AnonyMouse would just have to wait until tomorrow to get their footage.
When the sunlight did finally creep up the sky, Wreckx found himself with little sleep and a stomach full of anxiety. He'd spent so long thinking about this whole ordeal that he hadn't gotten much rest at all, and now he'd have to send the information to his benefactor without knowing why they really wanted it. And he had to, because otherwise the whole outing would've been for nothing, and he can't have that. If he went through all that trouble, he was going to at least get something out of it.
cw: unlikeable whumpee, stalking, creepy whumpee, male whumpee, autistic whumpee (written by autistic writer), cyberstalking, self hatred, unreliable narrator, drugging/roofies
masterlist
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Wreckx could hear the party from down the street and it was already making his head pound. He managed to get around the house to the backdoor unnoticed, just like he’d planned. He was able to simply wait until he could no longer see anyone through the glass panel in the center of the door, and he let himself in. Part of him berated himself for even thinking he had to sneak in. If he was more attractive and more normal then he probably could have just walked through the front door.
The music and chatter inside was deafening, he felt like he was going to lose his mind. He tried his best to act as normal as possible while walking in towards what he thought was the living room, where there seemed to be the most visible people gathered. He had gotten photos of the people he needed to get info on, he had the data grabber in his pocket, he just needed to stand relatively near them and he would be in.
The glasses he’d chosen to wear today had a secret micro camera in them, so the recording wasn’t much of an issue. His eyes scanned the busy crowd. The lights were relatively dim, it was mostly the music and talking that was a problem for him. It made his vision unfocused and his head pound.
He took a deep breath. It would be easier if he focused on one after the other. Gabriella Fisher could be the first target. In the photo he received, she was average height, fair skin, bright blue eyes and blonde hair. She had a prominent freckle on her chin, and that was what Wreckx would look for.
It took a moment of him ducking out of the way of other guests to finally find her. She was talking with another girl, and hopefully Wreckx would be able to stand somewhat near her to get the data. He approached her, leaning against the wall a few feet behind her and using his phone to turn on the data skimmer. He spotted the outline of her phone in the pocket of her shorts. Honestly, if he wanted to, he could probably just take the phone. Maybe that would get him some extra points with AnonyMouse (is a little bit of praise and some cash seriously all it takes to get him to bend over backwards?).
The data grabber buzzed in his pocket, it was done. He snapped back to reality only to be greeted by Gabriella leaning closer to her friend, whispering something to her and glancing back at Wreckx. Fuck.
He tried his best to look inconspicuous as he moved locations. He went deeper into the house in search of Jesse Lott. People were dancing, pressing up against each other, jumping in time to the loud music. Wreckx felt like he was going to go crazy, he wasn’t even aware enough to stop himself from running headfirst into a man that felt like he was twice Wreckx’s height (he was six feet tall, Wreckx is just short).
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t see you,” The man stepped back. “You a freshman?” He asked, pointing a finger and Wreckx.
All Wreckx could do was nod silently. He knew he had a baby face, but a freshman? Really?
“Let me fix you something, hang on,” The guy disappeared around a corner and returned with a plastic cup with something in it. “Here ya go, have a good time!” He clapped Wreckx on the shoulder and walked past him.
Wreckx sniffed what was in the cup. It was beer, for sure. Nasty, cheap shit. Stuff he’d usually drink when he wants to ignore the memories of his childhood. Whatever, he started drinking it. Maybe it’d at least help him blend in a bit.
Jesse was another easy find. He was wearing the same green cap that he was in the photo that Wreckx received. He was busy talking to some lady, so Wreckx found it easy to sneak up somewhere nearby, this time making sure he’s not staring at him.
Wreckx finished his drink, holding the cup in one hand and checking his phone with the other while the skimmer collected the necessary data. It was only a few minutes before the skimmer buzzed again, the signal for him to keep moving.
He took another sip of his drink. Wait, didn’t he finish that? He looked into the cup and saw the same fizzy beer he’d been drinking earlier, filling the cup once again. Hm. Maybe he’d just misremembered. He kept drinking while he moved through the party.
The party was a terrible environment for him. The noise was getting to be unbearable. He’d have to find Oscar Wright quickly. He finished his drink again at some point. He didn’t realize how thirsty he’d been.
Oscar Wright. He had to keep his mind focused. Tan skin, dark hair, a poor attempt at a mustache. Wreckx found the guy easily, enacting his usual plan of standing kind of near him. It went well for just about the first thirty seconds, before he was approached by the man who’d given him his drink.
“Hey!” He said, all smiles and sunshine in a way that Wreckx hated (or would have loved, if this guy was a woman). “Who’d you come with?” The man looked around, he was tall enough to see clear over the top of Wreckx’s head.
“Jackson and Daniel.” Wreckx muttered, hoping that he sounded convincing enough. A beat of silence stretched between the two of them.
“Oh, yeah, right!” The guy grinned, “Let me top you up.”
He snatched the cup away from Wreckx before he could protest. Unfortunately, sneaking away right now wasn’t an option, the data skimmer wasn’t done. He stood where he was until the man came back and shoved the cup back into Wreckx’s hand.
“I’m Mason,” The guy said.
“Cool.” Wreckx sipped the drink, “I’m Adam.” A fake name. It probably wasn’t the best idea to drink what, three drinks in the span of thirty minutes? Especially when he was hardly a hundred and ten pounds, and five-foot-three, but Wreckx couldn’t find it in himself to care, he just wanted something to take the edge off all the noise.
“Nice to meet you, Adam, are you sure you’re a student?”
Wreckx tried to hide the way he froze for a second, electing to just look up through his brows at Mason.
“You look a little young!”
Of course. Wreckx feigned a chuckle, continuing to sip his drink. He kept his lips to the cup, hoping it was enough of an excuse as to why he didn’t respond verbally. He finished the drink before he even realized it. He didn’t think that it was possible to drink shitty beer that fast without at least somewhat noticing.
“Uh, how old are you, Mason?” Wreckx asked, hoping to stall long enough to get the data.
“Twenty one, I’m wrapping up my BFA.”
Hm. Aside from the feeding him drinks thing, Wreckx didn’t think Mason seemed like the type of person to be at a party like this. He was obnoxiously nice, and so talkative to a complete stranger (especially to one that looks like such a weirdo).
“Why’d you come over to me?” Wreckx asked quietly. He was surprised that Mason heard him over the thudding music.
“You looked cool.”
“Mm yeah, right.” Wreckx rolled his eyes and the room almost seemed to roll with them. A wave of dizziness swept over him for a moment, but he managed to stay on his feet without swaying. What? The device in his pocket finally buzzed. “Excuse me-”
He tried to side step Mason, attempting to put one foot in front of the other while his legs grew heavier and heavier. His shoulder collided with Mason’s side, and Wreckx stumbled gracelessly, hardly keeping his feet beneath him. He tried to slur out some words but only wound up speaking nonsense. He didn’t even know what he was trying to say.
The room spun faster and faster, swirling and twisting the people around him into vague, spotty blobs. What the fuck was happening? What was happening to his head? He couldn’t think. Being smart was the one good thing about him and he was fucking that up big time.
His knees hit the ground, followed quickly by the collapse of his whole body. He fell, slumped on the floor of a college frat house like the total loser that he was. Of fucking course.
