scaredyspooks

[scaredyspooks]

As always, this is fucking beautiful. I keep @lostintransist’s writing as a reward to myself for getting stuff done during the day, and ya bish just woke up from a really weird, gross nightmare and this was exactly what I needed

You 🫵 gimme sum Nikto 🤲 and i’ll love you forevah 🫶

Since Andre’s been tortured and lead to believe that he’s nothing, a literal nobody, what if reader’s nickname for him or term of endearment is to call him their everything?

“Stay safe, my everything.”

“Come back soon, my everything”

“Ya lyublyu tebya moye vse” (I love you my everything)

“Love I am nothing, ничто.”

You couldn’t keep having this same argument with him, it tore at you. Like sores on your feet with miles to walk this ache in you grew to make him understand that he couldn’t be nothing.

Andre, as he decided to call himself, had no memories further back than pain. It had taken a year and a half before he could sleep in a bed with you. The first night you had been woken by his shivering and muttering, face twisted in agony. Every movement from his body jerked as if fighting off some invisible attacker.

When you made the mistake of touching his shoulder you blinked and found yourself pinned under him. Moonlight winked off his front teeth as he snarled down at you. The always-exposed teeth of his missing lip absorbed the moonlight as if the whiteness of the light could return the color to the enamel.

Panic fluttered in your breast. The man you love is still trapped in nightmares. Cooing up at him you lay soft, gentle words into his ears. He comes back to himself in pieces. The forearm at your throat lessens in pressure, the rigid lines of his torso and legs relax, finally, his eyes, shadowed blue, blink down at you.

Disgust and panic war the scars on his face to be the dominant expression. He flees the bed then. You hear him pause only long enough to grab his boots before the front door is crashing closed behind him.

Knowing better than to chase him, for he took to flight like a hare at the bugle of an elk, you allow yourself five minutes to weep. When you have expunged enough sorrow to stand, you shuffle to the kitchen. Readying two cups with tea leaves you add water to yours and settle in to wait. Every thirty minutes or so you lift yourself off the couch to flick the kettle back on until steam and bubbles mark the water as boiling. That done you drift back to the cushions leaving only the above stove light on to illuminate your flat.

You are practicing your Russian when he creeps back through the front door. Well, you are actually yelling at the green lying bird because Andre taught you this word already and that is not how he said it or you practiced it.

“The bird is wrong.”

“I know the bird is wrong but I have to say it the ‘right’ way to get past this part.” You don’t look up at him as you pronounce the word incorrectly into your phone’s speaker.

Once the app accepts your answer you glance up at him. Cheeks flushed with exertion and cold his eyes shine bluer for the tears pricking his lashes.

Flapping a hand at him you stand, “Sit, sit. I will grab your tea.”

He opens his mouth to argue but the glare you pin him with quells any words on his tongue. The couch creaks behind you as you flick the kettle on once more. The recently heated water bubbles speedily and you return to Andre in no more than a minute, mug in one hand and a small plate for his tea bag in the other. Setting both in front of him on the coffee table you take the opposite side of the couch. One leg tucked under the other you face his profile.

“Are you ready to talk about it or would you like to drink your tea and go back to bed?” You keep your tone casual as if the two options you presented are the only logical ones.

“I cannot stay. I am a danger to you.” The skin of his knuckles creak lightly when he curls them into fists on his thigh. “Love I am nothing, ничто.”

“Your nightmares might be a danger but you? My heart? You are not a danger to me.”

You had called him your heart since the first time you admitted to him that you loved him and wept for him when he was gone.

Mullishly, Andre stares at his lap instead of you. Shifting to the middle cushion you lift his tea bag from the hot water, familiar scents enter the conversation.

“Why do you stab the brain stem, my heart?”

Andre looks at you, confused as to why you are asking in the middle of this conversation.

“To stop all life,” he replies succinctly.

“Could you say,” you scoot a bit closer, fingers resting on his thigh close to his fisted fingers. “That it is to stop the heart?”

His eyebrows cannot come any closer to touching, this question makes them try anyway. He nods once.

“So the heart is more important than the brain?” You look up at him with such innocent eyes.

Weighing his head side to side he considered the question. After an infinitely long time, he nods again.

The hand on his thigh cups his fist now, the other landing on his neck, and the gentle pressure of your thumb keeping his eyes on you. “The heart is everything. Without it there is no life, there is nothing. You, Andre, are my heart, my everything.”

His eyes and pupils both blow wide as your words sink into his comprehension. Gaze flicking over your face tears begin to stream down his cheeks. With your thumb, you direct them away from his teeth. He had told you once that the taste of his tears triggers memories.

“You cannot be nothing if you are everything to me,” you whisper the words as you look back and forth from eye to eye, gauging how your message is received.

A reverence settles over him. He stares at you as if your love has replaced pain as the god of his soul. You wonder if this is how Aphrodite felt when she had godhood bestowed upon her: overwhelmed, humbled, scared shitless, empowered.

Broad hands soft on your waist pulled you close before forcing you flat on the couch. He followed you, shifting until he lay on one side between you and the back head resting on your chest.

In the light from the kitchen casting shadows across your bodies, he tells you of his lived nightmares. Neither of you comments on the growing damp circle of your nightgown or the wet spots that will mark the couch from your eyes. That night he lets you in, becoming more than nothing.

The tea is chilly when you both wake in the morning. Andre drinks it all, eyes on you as he coughs through the dregs.

“Ya lyublyu tebya moye vse,” the caress of his words tell you the meaning of the unfamiliar sounds.

A/N: Well hot damn I feel like I did a good job with this one... Yep this is getting added to my masterlist.

Masterlist

[scaredyspooks]

Phillip Graves is a fucking asshole.

And it's not just because he knows how to piss you off.

It's also because he knows what turns you on.

And nothing turns you on more than Phillip Graves "unintentionally" turning you on. Asshole.

It's Philip rolling his shirt sleeves up so you can see his forearms. Those same forearms that you can help but ogle every time he does the most innocent shit to call attention to them.

It's Phillip and his glasses. Asshole. It's the way they sit on the bridge of his nose, and when he catches you staring, especially when he was preoccupied, Phillip stares back over the rim, grins, and "Like what you see, darlin'?"

It's the low hum he makes in his throat. Whether he's concentrating, humming a tune, responding to you, or anything. It's the low hum.

It's the way he gives you his undivided attention. Full on staring into your eyes, leaning forward, the slight head tilt, the occasional chuckle, just—asshole.

It's Phillip practically purring out, "Darlin'." Every. Single. Time. Yes, darlin', no, darlin', three bags full, darlin'—that bastard knows what the hell he's doing.

It's Phillip stretching ("Biiiiig stretch, darlin'!"), working the kinks out of his lower back because he's been sitting still for too long. Phillip and that fucking arch, all so you can see how his ass perks out. And ain't it a perky ass, darlin'?

Yeah, Phillip Graves is a fucking asshole.

But he's your fucking asshole.

[scaredyspooks]

Every fucking time you absolutely destroy me with every word you write

Husband Nikto / Acts of Service

Part 10 | I’ll Bloom All Your Flowers

Masterlist

The rain is hammering outside, droplets falling against the window in a steady pattern, rushing down the drainpipes in a stream while the wind whips it into a haze over the road.

Quietly you turn off the lights in the living room, a night spent watching the street-lamps disappear in the darkness, obscured by the heavy downpour.

You miss him, it hurts so badly your throat is choked with it. The blue shadows follow your feet everywhere you go, a gloom you can’t shake off. Under those fingers you bloomed like one of his brightest flowers.

But now the autumn has come, a biting frost settling over a life without him in it. Perhaps you’d take the secrets to spend another moment in his quiet company, hold his rough hands and trace kisses over the scorched flesh twisting the bulk of his forearms. You’d allow his mysteries if it meant you didn’t have to walk past the Russian supermarket and stifle a pang.

Sometimes, you unscrew the lid of the half finished Russian caravan he left in your cupboard, letting the scent of smoke and cloves waft over your senses like he’s still here with you. The loss is huge, an abysmal void in your heart, dropping as a stone would into deep waters, the ripples reaching endlessly without a shoreline in sight.

Your strange companion. He’s left an aching echo in the spaces within your home, traces of him everywhere, in each neatly finished wall and repaired shelf.

The garden he spent hours bringing to fruition has mostly died as the seasons change. All you can do is anticipate that soon spring will come and with it, the return of your joy.

It’s too much to hope that he’ll come back to you, not when it’s been nearly four months without a word.

Wherever he is, you’ve begged the universe and all it’s deities that he’s happy. Safe. Not filled to the brim with unwavering depression like you are.

The azure clouds of sadness have settled heavily over the entire house. There might as well be puddles formed with each laboured step you take.

Against your better judgement and filled with awkwardness, you’ve taken the path home by his place more than once. It looks empty, without any sign of life echoing inside the clinical space. From that you’ve presumed he still isn’t back.

Would he even let you know if he was? Would anyone tell you if he wasn’t coming back at all?

Questions rattle around your brain endlessly. Ones that even the stout reassurances from your friends can’t tug loose. Their roots are worked deep into the soil, grim weeds that spring up in the dark hours of the morning, while you lay awake and think it all through.

Your feet pad across the hallway floor, a soft thump with each stride taken. Just as your foot finds the lowest stair, the light above your front door flickers into life, casting a faint glow over your shoulder.

Probably the wind setting the motion sensor off accidentally. Focused on your bed, you push on to the next level, hoping unconsciousness will bring a small respite from it all.

Something stops you where you stand though, glancing back at the brightness shining through the panes of glass framing the entrance to the house.

More to settle your own doubts, you move slowly upstairs, peering through the windows above the front path.

A figure is there, bear-like, built of strongest muscle, clad in black from head to toe. Heart jumping into your throat, you stare at it, the outline of someone so longed for.

It can’t be, you’re hallucinating.

The person chooses that moment to glance upwards, face lit by the glow of your porch light, finding your eyes immediately and fixing on them.

He’s beautiful and terrible in equal measure, a masterpiece of agony and ecstasy. Twisted rivulets of flesh cross up from his thick neck, cutting across high cheekbones and diving into his scalp. That generous mouth tugged upwards along with it, too many teeth revealed in a permanent, grim sneer he has no control over.

Red and harsh set against his fair skin, the scars only enhance his appearance, raven black hair cropped close at the sides, vivid, white stripes flecked among the long tendrils swept off his forehead and soaked with water.

You can’t see the glacial blue of his orbs from here, but you would recognise the up-tilt at the corners anywhere. Silver marks mixing with the deeper slashes, old wounds that sit shallow on his flesh but heavier within his subconscious.

A noble nose broken and poorly reset, the remnants of man who was once exceedingly handsome, but now has been left resolutely magnificent, a sight to behold, one full of furious and painful glory.

There’s a split second where you both gaze at each other, Nikto blinking rain out of his face, hands clenched at his side. Then simultaneously you both move, rushing to the door.

You meet somewhere on the threshold, your hands grasping all of him they can take in, embedded in his broad shoulders, while his own find purchase on your face.

He’s freezing, dripping and drenched to the bone. It doesn’t seem to bother him, arms hoisting you up as your legs coil around his waist, dark compression gear smelling of potent smoke and something reminiscent of tangy iron.

Nikto doesn’t even turn to close the door behind you, the sound of water flowing endlessly over the pavements loud in your ears to accompany the roaring noise of pure adrenaline.

His lips find yours, harsh and desperate, forcing his tongue against you, groaning in that familiar rumbling way. It makes your soul weep, the fierce force of his adoration, matched in turn by your own, teeth nipping as your nails rake into his neck.

Your back meets the wall, Nikto crushing you hard against it, set firmly between your legs and pinning you there like a butterfly within a frame. Wings spread and unguarded for him.

His mouth abandons your kiss temporarily to trail over your jaw, the rain from outside now soaking you in turn, he inhales deeply, rubbing his nose across the soft flesh just at the start of your throat.

There are no words, none available to communicate the depth of it. You want it to swallow you entirely, to be soaked in him until there is no end or beginning. No break between you, just a ceaseless horizon over which darkness and light blend into one glowing, burning coupling.

Nikto is undoing his flies, while you struggle to tug up the hem of your old T-shirt, reluctant to leave physical contact with each other, just in case one of you vanishes again into the abyss.

There’s no time for softness, slow touches that leave you blissfully worked up. His cock is nudging at your cunt, underwear tugged roughly to one side. He places a palm up to his savaged mouth and spits harshly, using the lubricant to lessen the pressure.

Then he’s inside you, punishingly so, the sting making you quake, gasp into his chest, hands balled to fists as your hips jerk. A heavy paw wraps around your throat, cold and damp, his thumb digging between your lips as the searing stretch fades perfectly into pleasure, your clit nudged with every rock of his hips against yours.

Teeth biting into his finger, you suck frantically, drool spilling out of the corners of your mouth. His torrid blues meet your own, heavy with heart sickness and something you don’t recognise. Is it love blinking at you, framed by thick dark lashes, devotion clinging to his feverish thrusts.

Your eyes close, toes curling as he consumes you, uses your body as a vessel to prove how much he’s missed you. A strong arm holds you steady as you arch against him, needing to be closer still, to get more of that delicious friction that has your cunt milking him.

It’s gritty, appalling to behold. You fuck like animals, his dirty boots squeaking against the clean floor, water pooling beneath the saturated tac pants barely lowered. He’s scorching though, burning up now in spite of the damp. Battered between Nikto’s plundering sex and the wall you let out a dry sob around his digit, one he smothers in a nasty kiss, teeth clashing.

He swallows one moan, then another, free hand reaching down to toy with your swollen apex of nerves, sweeping over the place you’re joined so he can feel it for himself. Almost as if he needs reassurance it’s real, he really has you taking him to the hilt against the paintwork.

You feel him begin to quicken, a slap on your clit and then another until you clench and he grunts. Shuddering, it bleeds under your skin, white hot and sudden.

Your cunt spasms, muscles tightening acutely until it hurts, then a wave of relaxation sweeps blindly through you, the perfect feeling of an unexpected orgasm Nikto won’t let you run from, one he chases to it’s very last lengths before he lets himself follow.

Warmth fills you, fuzzy limbed and still spread against the surface of the wall, you gradually come down from it as he ruts between your legs. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. He's embedded so deeply inside you there’s no longer a distinction, where he ends you begin, moulded together like clay figurines, the seams of your bodies blended.

Your head lolls, all of your energy now spent accepting him. The pulse of his cock tight against your inner walls, so soft and wet that Nikto can’t help but hiss with each press of his hips. It sounds almost anguished, his savagery barely held back behind sharp teeth. His eyes are tear smudged but he doesn’t know why, your scent making it harder to cling on against the rushing tide swelling up his spine.

It’s going to consume him whole, the affection mixed with a heaviness in his chest Nikto is unfamiliar with.

Sweet hands tug at his hair, pinching the white flecked strands until his scalp is prickling with it. You move his face back to yours, his eyes tight shut and brows set. Nikto can’t look into the gaze of love right now, it’s too intense, vertigo screaming at him from a height it would hurt to fall from.

When you kiss him though, it’s so gentle. Sensitivity pressed in the motion, understanding that makes his knees tremble. In that moment he decides instantly that he doesn’t care if he’s thrown into the abyss, bones breaking when the ground inevitably rises to meet him.

Nikto cums, hot and gasping against your lips, a sawn off groan huffed out of his chest raggedly. Nose to nose he keeps his orbs locked away from you under sweat sheened eyelids, throat rumbling a little as he continues his slow rocks into your cunt, spend seeping between you both, viscous but deliciously welcoming in the glide it creates.

Time is a lost concept. The sun and moon could rise then fall across the walls while he keeps you captured there. You shiver once, the freezing rain soaked into his clothes and pressed against your body is chilly in the air streaming through the still open entrance.

Carefully, Nikto places you back on solid ground, finally glancing heavily into your features, crystal cut aquamarine uncertain as it meets your gaze.

Now the moment has passed, the frisson of being reunited and the desperate urge to reclaim each other has settled to a low simmer, he feels intensely nervous. It makes his hands tremble until they’re clenched again into fists at his sides. Awkwardly he tucks himself away, trying to cover how his big paws numbly struggle with the button.

By there is no longer anywhere to hide. Nikto is bared to you heart and soul, the ugliness carved into his face and body opposed by your unblemished skin. Will you ask him to leave again when you see each vivid scar in the cold light of day?

He couldn’t bear that pain, though he would have to. Suddenly the ground beneath the ledge he leapt off earlier, when he spilt between the walls of your cunt, looks nastily close, sharp and jagged rocks waiting for him.

You’re staring at him dreamily, not with an air of regret but one of hazy bliss. Idly one of your hands reaches down to thumb the slickness saturating your panties. His and yours combined.

When your dainty fingers, glistening slightly in the low light reach your mouth to taste it, Nikto staggers towards you, unbalanced with silent longing. He knows it isn’t a dream, when he too tastes sharpness and brine on your digits.

Nikto gets to his knees, drenched as he is, dark strands sticking to his forehead, raven black other than those flagrant white stripes skimming through his roots. His voice sticks in his throat though, so many words he would like to utter lodged there.

Your hands card through his hair and that makes the stinging at the corners of his eyes intensify.

“Moya milaya…”

Finally something coherent leaves the tip of his tongue.

But you silence it, kneeling too on the dirty, damp floor, closing the distance and pressing soft kisses to his cheeks.

It is heaven, perhaps the only one he can attain still.

Nikto is home at last.

On AO3

[scaredyspooks]

[scaredyspooks]

Welcome/Intro

Hello and welcome to my tiny corner of the internet! Please enjoy yourself in this (intended) safe, relaxing, and calming learning space.

Who's blog did you just stumble on to? That would be me, Rhi! Or the Neurodivergent Lady - either works.

"Who?"

As mentioned above, I go by Rhi (or the Neurodivergent Lady). But who am I beyond that? Have some fun facts about me!

I was born in 1997.

My preferred pronouns are she/her or they/them - I accept both!

I was basically raised by my Millenial siblings (brother & sister).

I am a mother! I have one human and two dogs.

I am a weirdo (American) - I say this affectionately lol

I have raging ADD/ADHD (diagnosed) and am not medicated for it. I am also diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder: Bipolar Type, Depression, and Anxiety. I have suspicions about other mental illnesses, but none have been diagnosed as of making this post.

"What is this?"

This blog... is my thoughts dumping ground!

A few years ago, I started a journey of learning:

What decluttering is, how to do it, etc

How to "keep house" (tidy a house and keep it clean)

What systems for various things work for me and my household

How to apply above-mentioned systems

How to maintain a household and any systems put into place

It is important to note that I was never taught how to declutter or keep house. This is entirely a self-taught process. I have been through so many trials and errors to get to the point I'm currently at and am still learning. But I wish to share my experiences and notes (from books and experiences) so far with others. Since I enjoy writing, but not sure I could mentally handle writing an entire book on these topics just yet, I decided to throw up a whole blog for this!

Guidelines

Be respectful and kind - not everyone has your coping skills or experiences. A diagnosis may be the same or similar, but we are all still individuals.

No homophobia, rascism, other extremist views, etc are welcome. This is a safe place and I will enforce that with a block and/or report button.

This is an LGBTQ+ friendly blog. If you cannot handle that, block me and move on.

This is a neurodivergence centered blog. If you consider yourself a neurotypical you are still welcome, but I ask that you keep the negative comments to youself. Again, I will block and/or report if need be.

Asks are open! I'd be happy to answer questions or give advice! (Disclaimer: I give advice based on personal experiences. Not because I am a licensed individual of any kind.)

Stay safe. Some things I share may be triggering. I will include any potential trigger warnings in posts (at the top of the post, well before a "keep reading" button). Sharing my experiences may mean sharing some of my trauma - please check the trigger warnings list before you read the body of my posts.

I am not a licensed medical professional nor a life coach. I offer advice based on experience only. Please keep this in mind and respect it.

Tags/Links

Tags

#nd-lady

Links

Masterlist (Decluttering) - Coming soon! Masterlist (Systems) - Coming soon! Masterlist (Crisis Hotlines by Country) Masterlist (Resources) - Coming soon!

Banners, Dividers, Etc Credit

Profile picture and profile banner - me! On Canva :D

Everything else - so far @/saradika & @/saradika-graphics

[scaredyspooks]

Below you will find a list of crisis hotlines for the United States. This list will be updated as needed. Crisis hotlines for other countries will be added as other masterlists as I find them.

If you or someone you love are in an emergency, please call your local authorities immediately.

Not the country your looking for? Check here.

Note: Feel free to request any specific crisis hotlines by topic or country in the asks!

Child Abuse Hotlines

National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-422-4453 (For hearing impaired, call 1-800-222-4523.)

National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. Can be used to communicate information to the authorities about child pornography or child sex trafficking. 1-800-THE-LOST (1800-843-5678)

List of State Child Abuse and Neglect reporting numbers

Crisis Hotlines

Crisis Text Line (U.S.A.): Text CONNECT to 741741. https://www.crisistextline.org/textline/

Depression Hotlines

Depression hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Domestic Violence Hotlines

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) – Staffed 24 hours a day by trained counselors who can provide crisis assistance and information about shelters, legal advocacy, health care centers, and counseling.

Domestic Abuse Helpline for Men and Women: 1-888-743-5754

STAND Against Domestic Violence Crisis Hotline: 1-888-215-5555

Eating Disorders Hotlines

National Association of Anorexia Nervosa & Associated Disorders (ANAD): 1-847-831-3438 (long distance)

Elder Abuse Hotlines

Elder Abuse Hotline: 1-800-252-8966

Human Trafficking Hotlines

National Human Trafficking Hotline: 1-888-373-7888 – OR text 233733.  Caller can report a tip; connect with anti-trafficking services in their area; or request training and technical assistance, general information, or specific anti-trafficking resources

Rape/Sexual Assault Hotlines

The National Sexual Assault Hotline (1.800.656.HOPE) and Online Hotline (rainn.org) offer free, safe and confidential help 24 hours per day, 7 days per week.

Safe Helpline 1-877-995-5247. Rainn also operates a sexual assault support line specifically for members of the DoD (Department of Defense) community SafeHelpline.org.

Safe Horizon Rape, Sexual Assault, and Incest hotline: 212.227.3000

Take Back The Night Foundation Hotline: 1-866-966-9013 - Legal support for survivors in every state. Referrals to counseling, support, legal aid, hospitals.

Runaway or Homeless Youth Hotlines

National Runaway Safeline: 1-800-RUNAWAY ( 1-800-786-2929 )-a national, toll-free hotline for runaway and homeless youth, teens in crisis and concerned family/friends. Completely confidential.

Covenant House 1-800-999-9999 (Youth and Parents, 24-hour, toll-free crisis hotline which provides crisis intervention, referral and information services to homeless, runaway and other troubled youth and their families throughout the U.S.)

Self-Injury Hotlines

1-800-DONT-CUT (366-8288)

Stalking Hotlines

Crime Victims Hotline: 1-866-689-HELP (4357)

Safe Horizon: 1-800-621-HOPE (4673)

Substance Abuse/Alcoholism Hotlines

Alcohol Abuse and Crisis Intervention: 1-800-234-0246

Alcohol and Drug Abuse Helpline and Treatment: 1-800-234-0420

The Alcohol & Drug Addiction Resource Center: 1-800-390-4056

Alcohol Hotline Support & Information: 1-800-331-2900

Suicide Hotlines

National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-2433

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255) – available 24/7

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline in Spanish 1-800-799-4889

National Suicide Prevention Text line: 1-800-799-4889

Suicide Hotlines by State– comprehensive list of suicide hotlines by state

Surrender Your Baby Hotlines

National Safe Haven Alliance Crisis Hotline: 1-888-510-BABY (2229). Call this toll free numbers if you want to surrender your baby or are pregnant and have questions about how the “Safely Surrendered Baby” laws in your state can help you. There are “safe surrender” sites in many locations—usually any hospital, fire station, lifeguard station—where you can safely hand over your baby with no questions asked. There are laws in place to protect your privacy and ensure that your baby is not abandoned in an unsafe place when you are in crisis.

Veterans Crisis Hotlines

Military Helpline: 1-888-HLP-4-VET ( 1-888-457-4838) – Anonymous, free help for veterans, members of the military and their families.

National Call Center for Homeless Veterans: 1-877-4AID-VET (1877-424-3838).

VA National Caregiver Support Line: 1-855-260-3274 (M-F 8am-11pm, Sat 10:30am-6pm).

Veterans Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255, press 1 (text 838255)

Youth/Teen Crisis Intervention Hotlines

Boystown National Hotline: 1-800-448-3000 or TTY: 1-800-448-3000. Assists youth, and their family/friends, who are affected by self-harm and other issues.

LGBT Youth Suicide Hotline: 1-866-488-7386 OR text “Trevor” to 1-202-304-1200.  (Available Tuesday-Friday between 3pm – 9pm EST/12pm – 6pm PT.)

Teen Text Line: Text TEEN 839863 Daily from 6pm-9pm PST

Youthline: 1-877-YOUTHLINE (1-877-968-8454): Free confidential teen-to-teen crisis help support hotline where youths can call, text, chat, or email and get into contact with a trained youth. Youths are available from 4-10 PM PST daily, while adults are available at all other times. No problem is too big or too small.

Youth Development International Crisis Hotline: 1-800-HIT-HOME (1800-448-4663): This youth crisis hotline provides crisis intervention counseling, information and referral on youth issues, child abuse, pregnancy, runaways, suicide, shelters, churches, transportation and more.

[scaredyspooks]

Me, messaging a group chat titled "Sleepy Authors": I feel like I need a fekkin' nap.

The funny is not lost on me-

( @lostintransist @megjameswrites @scaredyspooks )

[scaredyspooks]

Cold, Cold Colonel

brrr. better cover up.

CW: Nothing NSFW. I tried writing an accurate version of Colonel König, even though it pained me dearly. Reader gets to choose from the following 3 options after finishing up for the night. option a) can go two ways. Do you: a) wake him up? or b) let him sleep? …well, you don’t actually wake him up, but you do startle him, resulting in him pulling a gun on you.

Everything was prepared for the next morning, you were about ready to crash for the night. Heavy footsteps lead to your shared quarters where you found a resting König, sleeping a little too soundly that night as if the weight of the day left him with little energy left to spare.

The room was quiet and dark, save for the soft sound of König's breathing as he slept. You stood at the foot of his bed, worried eyes traced the lines of his face, the sharp angles softened by the shadows cast by the light of the moon.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding inside your chest as you considered moving closer. It was a moment of vulnerability, of reaching out to a man who had always presented a façade of cold, unyielding strength.

But in that moment, with König lying there, his guard lowered for the first time in your presence; you felt a surge of protectiveness, of a desire to ease some of the burdens that weighed so heavily on his shoulders.

You took a step closer, a steady hand hovering just above his arm, uncertain but drawn to the warmth of his skin. After a moment's hesitation, you decide to rest your forehead against his bicep, a small gesture of comfort and support.

“Don't carry the world on your shoulders for too long,” a soft murmur, just barely above a whisper. “You deserve to rest, even if it's just for a little while.”

You hold the position for a moment longer, savouring the feeling of closeness, of connection, before…

Option 1: Wake him up?

Option 2: Let you in?

Option 3: Let him sleep.

[secret]

[scaredyspooks]

Spooks is tipsy

[scaredyspooks]

shadow company(oc) x graves

His loyal shadows 🖤♟️♠️

[scaredyspooks]

@backseatsoldier sent me this post and I felt my response made a good reaction meme so you’re welcome

shadow company(oc) x graves

His loyal shadows 🖤♟️♠️

[scaredyspooks]

I feel like shit. Yo Mr. Stark I ain’t feeling so good.

Reader: It’s rotten work.

König: Not to me. Not if it’s you.

[scaredyspooks]

Olivia (Liv) Gale

Name: Olivia Gale Aliases: Liv Age: 27 Nationality: American Polyamorous or Monogamous: Polyamorous Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Asexual / Panromantic Relationship Status: In a relationship with Clara Quillen Occupation: Masseuse and holistic healer (definitely not a witch nope >.>)

Height: 5'6" (167 cm) Physique: Soft, a lil chubby. Eyes: Grey. Hair: Dyed cherry red, slightly wavy, falls just past shoulders. Defining Features: She has a rose tattoo on her neck, and a full zodiac themed back piece.

Personality: Liv is the definition of the mum friend. She needs to make sure her family (this includes her friends) are safe, happy and comfortable - occasionally to her own detriment. She's very patient and caring, and is always willing to offer a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. She also gives amazing cuddles that include back and head scratches, and she'll try and knead out any knots she finds in your back and shoulders while cuddling.

Backstory: Liv's backstory actually isn't too bad. She's the eldest sibling in a large family, she was raised by witchy hippie parents, and spent a lot of time in the outdoors. There was a point in her teenage years where she lived on a commune, but that didn't have any negative impacts on her. None at all. (It most certainly had negative impacts and was not a fun time, but she's not ready to accept that just yet).

[scaredyspooks]

Gemma Brooks

Name: Gemma Brooks Aliases: Gem Age: 24 years old Nationality: English Polyamorous or Monogamous: Polyamorous Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Pansexual Relationship Status: In a poly relationship with Alejandro Vargas and John Price. Occupation: Intelligence Operative for TF141.

Height: 5'3" (160 cm) Physique: Curvy, petite. Eyes: Blue/grey. Hair: dark brown, falls to just below her shoulders. Defining Features: She wears glasses, that's about it.

Personality: Do not fuck with her. She is quiet, she is shy, and she is smart. She's yet to find a server she can't hack, and she's yet to find a puzzle she can't solve. She will overwork herself into exhaustion, but it'll be for the greater good as she combs through data like a woman possessed to find the connections.

Backstory: Gemma and Minnie (aka The Gemini Twins) are close as close can be, though not physically. While Gemma stayed in England in for her education and career as an Intel Op in the SAS, Minnie left for the USA, and since then they've kept in touch with constant texts, daily emails and weekly (or more) phone calls. The only period of time when she wasn't in this constant contact with her sister were the three years that she assumed Minnie was KIA, however she was thankfully proved wrong. Those three years were the hardest of her life. The closeness between the twins isn't just because of their relation, their parents passed away when they were four years old and they struggled through the British foster care system together. While majority of their guardians and cohabitants were nice, there were unfortunately some who weren't, and this made the twins deeply protective of one another as they grew up.

[scaredyspooks]

Olivia (Liv) Gale

Name: Olivia Gale Aliases: Liv Age: 27 Nationality: American Polyamorous or Monogamous: Polyamorous Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Asexual / Panromantic Relationship Status: In a relationship with Clara Quillen Occupation: Masseuse and holistic healer (definitely not a witch nope >.>)

Height: 5'6" (167 cm) Physique: Soft, a lil chubby. Eyes: Grey. Hair: Dyed cherry red, slightly wavy, falls just past shoulders. Defining Features: She has a rose tattoo on her neck, and a full zodiac themed back piece.

Personality: Liv is the definition of the mum friend. She needs to make sure her family (this includes her friends) are safe, happy and comfortable - occasionally to her own detriment. She's very patient and caring, and is always willing to offer a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. She also gives amazing cuddles that include back and head scratches, and she'll try and knead out any knots she finds in your back and shoulders while cuddling.

Backstory: Liv's backstory actually isn't too bad. She's the eldest sibling in a large family, she was raised by witchy hippie parents, and spent a lot of time in the outdoors. There was a point in her teenage years where she lived on a commune, but that didn't have any negative impacts on her. None at all. (It most certainly had negative impacts and was not a fun time, but she's not ready to accept that just yet).

[scaredyspooks]

Freya Maroni

Name: Freya Maroni Aliases: Shepherd's Rabid Dog Age: 32 years old Nationality: Italian Polyamorous or Monogamous: Polyamorous Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Pansexual Relationship Status: In a semi-exclusive relationship with Phillip Graves. They are not good for each other. Occupation: Torture Specialist and Lieutenant for Shadow Company

Height: 5'8" (172 cm) Physique: Toned, athletic. Eyes: Sage green. Hair: Dyed pastel pink, wavy curls, falls to lower back. Defining Features: From the jaw down she's covered in a litany of scars from a variety of causes, she's also covered in tattoos (some professional, some scratched), and she has a number of piercings in her ears and face, as well as other body piercings.

Personality: Freya is... unhinged. To put it nicely. She's a sado/masochist with zero boundaries, and her personal motto is "if you do something love, you'll never work a day in your life". That motto is fine, until you find out what her job is. She's incredibly confident and hard to phase, however this isn't always a good thing.

Backstory (CW: mention of CSA): Like all OCs, Freya's backstory is not a pretty one. She grew up near the docks of Sicily and at the age of fourteen she was brought into one of the brothels. When the 'organisation' running this brothel saw what happened to her customers, they began grooming and training her into a more aggressive role. She became their enforcer at the age of sixteen, and not long later she went a bit... Wrong. The majority of that 'organisation' are no longer around. After that, having found a talent she thoroughly enjoyed, she became a mercenary enforcer and torture specialist for hire, until eventually securing a career with Shadow Company, where she rose through the ranks to become Commander Graves' number two and eventually romantic partner.

[scaredyspooks]

Overthinking.

Chapter 7 of Neighbors. (Stalker!Konig x reader)

AO3 (Chapter also below cut-off ♡)

“You should go check on your laundry.”

That’s what you said. Fear in your eyes freezing his heart like a dagger of ice, chilling him to his very core. He should go. Go. Leave. Get out. Verlassen. Komm nie wieder zurück. You hate him. You despise him. You fear him. You don’t appreciate him, all he does for you, of course you fucking don’t. He’s seen you, he’s heard you, he knows you’re nothing. Nichts. Nichts als eine Hure. He should never have treated you like anyone else, you’re no better than the lecherous women who’d hover around the dorms on base, cooing and purring until he took them and opened them and devoured them. It’s been so long. So fucking long.

The washing machine beeps.

He goes to punish it for interrupting his thoughts, then he remembers where he is. He’s been hunched over, panting and seething on the bench in the middle of the communal laundry room for well over thirty minutes.

He unloads the machine, folding each piece of linen without thought as he fills his hamper, his mind still trained on you. You. Du gehörst ihm. He’ll show you, he’ll teach you. Train you. He knows what he is, he knows what you are, what you need. What you crave. That fear in your eyes, there was something else, swimming in the murky depths of dread and survival. That tainted prey that doesn’t want to run anymore, its neural pathways so fucked and spent that its only response is to roll over and present.

His heavy boots on the stairs halt at your floor. He hesitates, then he pushes through the doors, silently stalking to the thin shell that protects your refuge. He can smell you through the cracks. He can hear you humming to yourself. He could break this door down if he chose to. But he doesn’t. He just closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and smiles as he walks away, back towards the stairs, back to his den.

Back to being a worm.