#I have to admit that two of these surely fall under the category 'not for me' ('Loveless' & 'Was man von hier aus sehen kann')

[was-noch]

Books I've read in 2023 (in the order I've read them)

Toni Morrison - Beloved

Fred Wander - Der siebente Brunnen

Ursula K. Le Guin - A Wizard of Earthsea, The Tombs of Atuan, The Farthest Shore, Tehanu

Alice Oseman - Loveless

Fonda Lee - Jade City

Mariana Leky - Was man von hier aus sehen kann

Valery Tscheplanowa - Das Pferd im Brunnen

May Ayim - Grenzenlos und unverschämt

Further readings I've started but haven't finished (and don't know if I will):

Hermann Gutmann - Hafengeschichten

Claudia Schoppmann - Zeit der Maskierung

Hildegard Hudemann & Martin Jank - Die Elbe

Jonathan Lethem - The Fortress of Solitude

[Right now, my scattered thoughts can only be captured in German, but I'll try and add an English translation below.]

Das Jahr 2023 begann mit dem Wunsch mehr als nur theoretische Uni-Texte zu lesen. Die Anahl an Büchern, die letztendlich geschafft habe zu lesen, ist nicht sonderlich einschlägig, aber in jedem Fall ein zufriedenstellender Anfang.  

Und bin ich überrascht festzustellen, dass mir das Entdecken von den passenden Büchern für die aktuelle Situation im Leben mindestens genauso viel Freude bereitet, wie das Lesen selbst. Ich bin froh, das 2023 mit diesen Büchern mehrfach erlebt haben zu können.

Obwohl ich sie unfassbar einfühlsam und mitreißend geschrieben fand, ziehe ich es vor die hier erwähnten englischen Bücher nicht zu diskutieren und mich stattdessen auf zwei Veröffentlichungen zu konzentrieren, die im englischsprachigen Bereich vermutlich weniger bekannt sind.

Valery Tscheplanowa - "Das Pferd im Brunnen" (2023)

"Beurteile ein Buch nicht nach seinem Einband" - Aber bitte lass dich durch das Cover zum Verkaufsstand locken, nimm das Buch in die Hand und lass dich von den ersten Worten, die dir entgegenkommen, in den Bann ziehen.

Naja, so wars es jedenfalls bei mir und der Rest des Buches enttäuscht keinesfalls. Für mich ist es immer eine Freude, eine oder einen Autor:in zu lesen, die weiß, wie mit der deutschen Sprache umzugehen ist. Tscheplanowa beweist in ihrem Debütroman eindeutig ihr Sprachgefühl und ist in ihren Worten schonungslos einfühlsam (oder ist es andersherum?).

Sie erzählt die Geschichten ihrer Großmutter und Mutter, wie die eine mehrere Zeitenwenden in Russland durchlebte und die andere ihr Leben in Deutschland sah. Sich selbst nimmt Tscheplanowa immer wieder gekonnt aus der Erzählung. Sie überlässt anderen den Vortritt, aber ohne sie würden die Geschichten nicht ihre notwendige Rahmung finden.

Fred Wander - "Der siebente Brunnen" (1971)

Mehr oder weniger zufällig, tragen beide Werke das Wort 'Brunnen' in ihrem Titel. Zudem werden beide als autobiographische Fiktion beschrieben und beide Autor:innen entschieden ihre eigen Person in ihren Geschichten wenig vorkommen zu lassen.

Im Fall von Fred Wander kann diese Zurückstellung als Überlebenstaktik gesehen werden. Bloß nicht auffallen, nicht herausstechen in der Menge. In dieser Position übernimmt er eine beobachtende Rolle auf das Verbrechen der Nazis in den Konzentrationslager. Und trotz des menschenverachtenden Regimes, dem er und seine Mithäftlinge untersteht, trotzt dieses Buch vor aufklärender Menschlichkeit. Er, der sich vor den despotisch Herrschenden zurücknimmt, zeigt wie durch diese Zurückstellung Widerstand entspringt.

Fast tagtäglich sehe ich den Gedenkturm, der nach '45 beim KZ vor meiner Stadt errichtet wurde. Tagtäglich soll man daran erinnert werden, wie vielen Menschen daran gehindert wurden ihr Leben weiterzuleben. "Der siebente Brunnen" gibt einzelnen von ihnen ihre (oftmals jiddischen) Stimme wieder, erzählt ihre Geschichten und lässt deutlich werden, was Zahlen oft nicht können: Menschlichkeit zeigen. So groß dieses Wort auch sein mag, je eindrücklicher wird es in den Worten von Fred Wander. Mögen die Zeiten, in denen Menschen sich unsichtbar machen müssen, um zu überlegen, stets verhindert werden.

______________________________________________________________

[genericpuff]

So, I want to confess something. I believe I speak for everyone when I say that the SA in LO is not only poorly written but very mishandled and was unnecessary. I want to point out I am not a SA victim, so I can not say with experience how well the deception was. Though I do know people in real life that were victims, I also don’t want to disclose their stories either. But, here’s the thing. I personally don’t mind SA in the media, if it is handled with care and they portray it as a serious issue!

The problem I have with most media is that shows and stories will either use SA as A. A plot device for romance development. B. Shock value or C. A joke. So many media I’ve watched use SA as any of the three categories (13 Reasons Why and content from Vivziepop being a few that I can think of off the top of my head). The only show I can think of that actually portrays SA seriously and shows real life impact is Tuca and Bride. I also think it’s pretty hypocritical that the media will use SA as long as they fall into any of the three categories, but when you want to show the negative effects of it like in Moral Orel, suddenly you get canceled! Again, Hypocrites! I also don’t think first time writers should write this kind of stuff, and Rachel is no exception. You can tell she didn’t know what she was doing, based on how little importance the SA has on the plot or how it falls into said categories as well. (and the rumors that she didn’t even know it was SA doesn’t help).

Now, that being said I don’t think a SA plot line was a bad idea for this kind of story. Again, the original myth was “The abduction of Persephone” and in some versions, Hades did force himself onto Persephone. And considering Ancient Greece was rife with many stories of such heavy topics, I can see why they would include that. My personal issue with LO’s SA plotline… is Apollo! First of all, while Apollo may have had some questionable relationships in his myths, he never really forced himself on anyone. In fact, the most famous story of him chasing Daphne was only because he was under the influence of Eros, meaning Apollo had no agency in loving Daphne. Second, Apollo had nothing to do with Persephone. They never interacted in any myths. Sure, there was one myth where Apollo asked Demeter for her daughter’s hand and Demeter rejected, but that’s it. The two never had any relationship. So it makes the plot line even more convoluted because of their lack of historical and mythical connection. Though, I do admit I kind of like Apollo and Persephone as a couple (In Rekindled not Lore Olympus), but I know they don’t get together.

Honestly, if Rachel really wanted to do a SA story that would prop up Hades without demonizing anyone, she could have done that! By making Persephone’s assaulter be Zeus instead of Apollo! Hear me out, in some stories, Zeus actually disguised himself as Hades and slept with Persephone, thus it resulted in Zagerus. So, it is canon in a sense that Zeus did SA Persephone. Not only that, but given he had a role to play in the “Abduction of Persephone” where he sold his daughter off to Hades, this makes him even more impactful to the story. He could be the villain instead of Demeter, who wants to use Persephone. And considering Zeus’s love affairs and his god complex (no pun intended) he would believe he was entitled to Persephone and would want to have her as a secret concubine.

Maybe Zeus would be able to learn more about Persephone through Hera and he would decide to set his sights on her. He could try and get closer to her as she is naive and never met the King of Gods, and would use her trust to pounce on her (Because in SA cases, your attacker is more likely to be someone close to you rather than a stranger.) And maybe Zeus would blackmail Persephone so she would have to keep seeing him or else get kicked out of school and be a disgrace to her mother. Then, you could have Hades find out and he would rage against Zeus. Maybe Hades would get Demeter involved and they would team up to punish the King all for the sake of protecting Persephone. Hades would suggest making Persephone his queen for protection, and Demeter would make the world grow cold unless Zeus complies, thus explaining Winter. Zeus would agree to give Persephone to Hades, and she will be under Hades’s protection. But Persephone would still want to be with her mother, so Demeter and Hades make custody arrangements.

Bam! A SA plot line that A. Actually adds to the story and raises stakes. B. Makes a terrifying but complex villain for the story that we all can hate without assassinating his character. C. Have Hades and Demeter come out on top. D. Be historical and mythologically accurate. (I’m also not saying that I wanted SA in LO or LR, nor do I think this version would have made it better, but I personally believe this plot line makes way more sense than: Apollo meeting Persephone in one day and SA her in her sleep.)

I agree with a lot of this, thank you for sharing!! (sorry this is a late response, I didn't want this big analysis to go to waste fdjasklfdsajlk)

But yeah, in essence / on paper the SA plotline in LO would have been fine, especially considering SA is present in just about every Greek myth story, but I don't think Rachel was really cut out to tackle that subject yet, mostly as a writer as all of her writing is very baseless and doesn't have the necessary planning, research, and direction required to depict a subject like that. It takes a lot of sensitivity, self-awareness, and self control, none of which LO has as a narrative or Rachel as a writer.

IMO Apollo being the god of the sun made for a great springboard for him to be like, this self-centered god who was so delusional in his own ego that he couldn't believe Persephone wouldn't want him, that alone was enough to make him out to be a great villain - even with the use of SA, where he couldn't take no for an answer - but then we had to get into the whole "Apollo is gonna use Persephone to overthrow Zeus" crap and it all fell apart from there. Not to mention the story could never decide if Apollo was some nefarious puppet master or just a delusional dumbass, so all the flip-flopping on his motivations led to him becoming a very weak villain.

That said, I will cut her some slack for not having Zeus assault her. Because while it's more accurate to the myths (and character accurate) the story could barely handle Apollo and he's the canon Good Boytm in the myths, imagine it trying to handle an actual serial assaulter?

But that's not me saying it's necessarily a bad idea. I just don't think LO would be able to handle it with Rachel at the helm lol

[laurasimonsdaughter]

“Alright! Let’s just quickly go over your answers to our questionnaire in your application.”

As far as job interviews went, this one was rapidly moving up the list of utterly strange ones. For starters this was the fanciest office he had ever been in, and this was supposed to be an animal sanctuary. The amount of decorative pillows piled onto the chair he was currently trying to sit on would have been more appropriate for a lounge in a posh hotel.

The sanctuary manager – at least that’s how she had introduced herself – peered at the printed sheets of paper.

“So you have experience with animal handling?”

“During several internships, yes.”

“Wonderful. And horticulture?”

“I know how to keep a healthy habitat.”

“Excellent. And do you have any siblings?”

There it was, barely three questions in and already off the deep end. “Yes, three.”

The woman fixed two keen, dark eyes on him. “Three including you?”

“No, three besides me. I’m the second oldest, if that matters.”

“Ah! That’s alright then, Second of four, very good.”

By now he was looking at the manager with unrestrained wonder, eyebrows almost disappearing under his fringe.

“Well that all seems to be in order, just one more question—are you comfortable?”

He faltered, blinking. “I...well, to tell you to truth this chair could do with a few less pillows.”

To his amazement the manager’s face lit up with genuine delight. “Oh that is very good to hear. I do apologise for all that nonsense, but there’s rules against asking people about the circumstances of their birth, you know. Here, let me.”

He got to his feet, still rather stunned, and watched how the manager removed three pillows and, from underneath them all, a small green pea from his chair.

“There we are! Now, we’d be very glad to have you, you certainly meet all our qualifications, and I assure you we offer excellent terms and benefits. You clearly have plenty of experience with amphibians and birds, but you will need some on the job training, because apart from the usual frogs, swans and ravens, we also have clients in some of the rarer categories.”

“Clients? I thought this was an animal sanctuary,” he stammered.

“It most certainly is! Except our residents have not always been animals.” The manager smiled meaningfully. “You’d be surprised just how many people, especially royals, decide they would rather stay enchanted.” She looked a little embarrassed for a moment. “Which is of course exactly why I need to take certain precautions with my employees, you understand.”

He was pretty sure he did not at all understand, but he wasn’t about to admit that now. “Right.”

She peered at him again. “I do still need you to promise me not to fall in love with any of them.”

“Why on earth—”

“It’s happened before,” she said gravely. “We also have a couple of private parks, with a more human enclosure, I mean house, because we do get the occasional beastification.” She shook her head. “The last person we hired, well, our client was kind enough not to file an official complaint, on account of the whole finding his true love thing, but it was really very embarrassing.” He sat very still for a moment. “So, how many of those are there?”

“Beasts? Only two at the moment, since that unfortunate incident.”

“And your other...residents?”

“Hmm lets see, seven swans and seven ravens, three frogs, a stag, a hind, a fox and a bear. Well, and the cat, but she’s an exception, she lives in our head quarters and mostly looks after herself.” She gave him a rather worried look. “I haven’t scared you off, have I?”

He gave her a weak smile. “You promised me five weeks paid time off, so no you haven’t. But I am going to need some more information.”

“Wonderful,” she sighed. “In that case, let’s start with giving you a tour.”

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Personal Heater

Summary: Spencer has no heat in his apartment, but that doesn’t stop Reader from spending the night.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: fluff

Word count: 858

You are so stubborn. Stubborn to the point that Spencer finally caved and let you spend the night at his place, despite constantly telling you the heat is out. It took two weeks and several weather reports including wind mileage and humidity percentages, but you broke him. Now you’re in his bathroom, spitting your toothpaste and mouthwash concoction into his rickety sink. And it was your sharp, minty inhale that put the stamp of regret on the night.

Out of all potential points of convincing you to wait, he failed to mention that he lived in a building originally constructed in the early 1900s; when insulation wasn’t even a thought.

Your feet are freezing under the tile, and you’re convinced if you put enough force behind it, you can land in Spencer’s bed with one jump. Moving as minimally as possible sounds ideal because your legs feel as mobile as frozen pipes. But a screw-up will lead to you hitting the floor in the darkness, alerting your boyfriend in the living room, and — worst of all — you’ll have to admit he was right.

So instead, you lumber out of the bathroom, sliding your feet across the floor to navigate any potential hazards. The floor creaks with your weight. Once in the clear, you, quite literally, hop into bed. Spencer was still focused on some work at his desk, but he promised he wouldn’t be long since he was already in his robe. You took advantage of the time to gather the comforter and the extra blanket he’s been using. Then you grab some others folded neatly on a nearby chair (that you may or may not have fished out of his closet) and let them all fall on top of you. The warmth creeps in if you stay still and prevent drafts, but your feet instinctively rub together like they were sticks and you needed a fire. It’s the only movement you allow as you try to zone out enough to fall asleep, apart from the occasional kick to yourself for not being patient.

The benefit of being in an old building is that doors creak too. So Spencer coming in to call it a night is not subtle at all. He turns on the lamp on his side, and it’s the first time you’ve dreaded hearing him chuckle. “Well, well, well,” his tone is infuriating, “I see you found the extra blankets.”

You keep your eyes closed and hope for the best.

“I heard the floors creaking three minutes and 42 seconds ago, hun. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Dammit. You use your bitterness to turn on your right side, making sure to keep your body encased under the small mound of various cozy materials.

Spencer’s robe is tied: boring, plaid, and brown. But it gives him a secure layer over his fun pajamas, the light blue ones with cloud patterns, also known as the ones you got him. His hair is adorably messy and his lips purse into an annoyingly cute smile. “Anything you want to say to me?”

“Yes, actually,” You prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye as you ask “How the hell does someone who grew up in Vegas tolerate freezing temperatures indoors in early spring?”

“Well, robes help, but it’s also not freezing,” He corrects. “It’s 43.4 degrees outside, which means it’s…” He feels the air for reference because it matters to him. “About 58.2 degrees in here right now considering what floor we’re on and —”

“If I admit you were right, will you please come to bed?” You fall back onto your pillow and pat his, utterly defeated. 

He doesn’t hesitate to switch off the lamp. Spencer climbs in and nestles under the comforter. “No need, I already know.”

You wish you had a snappy response to that, but Spencer’s hands are already distracting you by navigating blindly under the comforter. You take the hint and push yourself closer to him. When your bodies meet, he pulls your leg up so you can be just a little closer. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and your fingers end just above the back of his neck. You play with the hair you can reach and he finally kisses you. It’s sweet and slow, with no urge to prove a point. “Your nose is so cold.” You tell him.

“So is yours.” He replies, rubbing them together. He kisses the bridge of yours.

“I’m warming up though.” Slowly but surely. You try to keep your icy toes away from his to avoid ruining the moment.

“Good. Me too.” The hand keeping your leg steady slid up your back, finding a comfortable place to rest. “Seriously though, do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?”

“Yes.” You nod for extra assurance.

“Okay,” He rubs your back. “Wake me up if you can’t.” He gives you another precious kiss.

You want to say you’ll be fine, but you don’t feel like risking being wrong twice in 24 hours. So you plant a kiss on his forehead, and that’s good enough for him.

[jenniferjareauwife]

JJ’s teenage daughter having nightmare after the events or ‘200’ and she just eventually gives up on the idea of sleeping whatsoever and JJ finds out about this and tries to help her. <3

Nightmares

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: nightmares

word count: 917

age: 15

summary: you're having nightmares after your mom was kidnapped so you give up on sleeping altogether but she finds out and helps you

I caught my breath as I woke up again, another nightmare. The 18th one the past two weeks. I was sick of it. Once I had one it was impossible for me to fall back asleep. Dreams of my mom dying in the hospital or her being tortured played in my mind on repeat and my sleeping mind didn't give me any relief either. "Hon?" I heard my mom from down the hall and I sighed, knowing how tired I was making her. She always woke up whenever I had a nightmare. It was a mom's sixth sense or something. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah." I rubbed my eyes and sat up. She opened the door and quietly made her way over to my bed.

"You ok?"

"Mhm." She laid down next to me, getting herself under my covers like she always did whenever I had a nightmare. Ever since I was little she would always come in and cuddle until I fell back asleep and then stay with me the rest of the night to make sure I was ok. "I'm fine mom, you don't have to stay."

"But you had a nightmare."

"And I'm 15, I can handle myself." I sighed but tucked myself under her arm anyways. This would be the last time I woke her up, the nightmares were getting tiring and what was the point of sleeping? A little sleep derivation never hurt anyone.

Two weeks had passed and I hadn't slept at all except for a few hour long naps here and there when my mom wasn't home. I set a timer on my phone to make sure that if I fell asleep I would wake up before I had a nightmare. "Baby I got the pizza!" My mom walked through the front door with her keys in her mouth, holding a large pizza in her arms.

"Thanks mom." I smiled, feeling my eyes burn a bit from the lack of sleep.

"Of course. Friday is our pizza night." She set the pizza down on the counter before pulling me into a side hug. My head rested on her shoulder and it was so comfy that I almost fell asleep. When she pulled away from the hug I let out a low whine. "What's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"You whined. What's wrong?" She put a slice on her plate before sitting down.

"Nothing." She frowned but didn't say anything else.

"You look tired. Why don't you go to sleep early tonight-"

"I have too much homework and I have to get up early for school."

"You're allowed to take a break." She said softly. "I mean...you've been through a lot."

"You've been through more."

"Yeah but you're my daughter. What happens to me happens to you. Especially with how close we are." She rubbed my back and I frowned, feeling guilty for basically punishing myself for something she went through. "Now what's up? I know that face."

"I...I haven't been able to sleep lately." I mumbled.

"Oh...I thought you weren't getting nightmares anymore, I thought it was getting better."

"No...I just stopped sleeping." I admitted.

"Oh baby. You know that's not good for you, right?" Her voice softened.

"I know...I'm sorry."

"Shh. No apologies. Just finish your dinner and then we can go to bed, ok?"

"No. No if I go to bed then I'll have nightmares and I'll see you dying or getting tortured-"

"Baby I'll sleep with you, ok? You might have nightmares but I'll be right there, ok? I'll be with you the whole time."

"But-"

"You need to sleep, and that's final." She put her hand over mine, squeezing it gently. "It's ok. I'll be with you the whole time." I felt my whole body relax just thinking about getting a good nights rest.

"Mom?" My lip trembled.

"Yeah?"

"I really need some sleep." She smiled, her eyes softening.

"Then let's go to bed, ok?" I nodded and held her hand as we walked upstairs. I flopped down on her bed, not caring about changing or brushing my teeth. I just wanted a good sleep with my mom.

"Mom come here." I groaned.

"I have to brush my teeth baby."

"But I want you now."

"I'll be there-"

"Mom I need you." I whined. She sighed and came over to me, forgetting what she was gonna do as soon as she crawled into bed next to me. "I'm scared to sleep." I whispered.

"But it's gonna be ok. I'm right here, yeah?" She pulled me into her, my head on her chest listening to her heartbeat, one of my arms and one of my legs draped over her. "Is that comfortable?" I nodded, amazed at how much my body relaxed once I heard her heartbeat.

"I need this."

"I know sweet girl." She stroked my hair, gently massaging my scalp while rubbing my back. "I'm here, ok? I've got you." She kissed the top of my head. "You can sleep in my bed as much as you need. I don't care if it's every night, I just want you to be getting sleep. I also just like sleeping with my baby girl."

"Mom." I blushed. "Well...I like sleeping with you too. You're comfy."

"Mhm. I know I am." I laughed softly, my eyelids getting heavy. "Just get some rest baby. I'll be right here if you have a bad dream, I'm right here, ok?" I nodded, feeling sleep slowly wash over me. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[lightofraye]

A Little Perspective

This may be lengthy and detailed and potentially triggering for some. I will be covering a number of possible points of view about things covering why Jensen hasn't left--and may never. (A prospective I'm not thrilled about, to be honest.)

So. Let's begin.

1) Abuse: This is double issue for Jensen. Potentially a triple. How do I mean? For instance, Jensen himself admitted his father beat him with a belt--and from the sound of it, a lot, while he was growing up, as Jensen knew thinner belts hurt more. Worse, his father said he did it "out of love", so there's that bad, unpleasant association right out the bat.

Plus, his mother... this is only speculation, an assumption. She either looked the other way and accepted the abuse, or she was a participant of the abuse and thought it was normal/acceptable. That too may color Jensen's perspective and not a good way either.

Then Jensen became a model... and the modeling industry is/was rife on abuse. A lot of stories come out later where those who quit the industry or endured it suffered a great deal of sexual harassment, sexual assault, sexual abuse.... A "pretty boy" like Jensen likely would've suffered as well. I don't believe he's ever shared stories and he likely may never.

(Hi, toxic perception of men as victims again.)

I can't even begin about the sexual abuse that is rampant in Hollywood itself. Yes, women were largely targets, but as we've heard the last few years,... so have been men.

Hell, Jensen was sexually assaulted by Misha! It was used in a fucking gag reel! It's not funny! Jensen even said if he had known they were going to put it in the gag reel, he would've asked them not to. That to me speaks volumes.

There are brief stories out there. A PA witnessed Danneel slapping Jensen when she thought Jensen was flirting with the PA. (He wasn't; he's just that sweet.) There's another story of some restaurant goer who saw how harsh Danneel was bullying Jensen outside the restaurant.

He's... diminished. His baseline for normal is not the baseline for normal for non-abused people. His self-esteem, confidence, and ability to stand up for himself is heavily damaged. He doesn't know how to stand up for himself. Every time he has, he's been smacked down.

Yes, he can stand up for others time to time, but there are instances when he didn't and gave up in face of authority. (Mark Sheppard being demoted to guest star and losing pay and choosing to quit instead... only had Jared standing up for him in the end. Misha caved instantly and Jensen gave up as well.)

So what then does it mean for him and Danneel? Did she become abusive off the bat? No. That's not how abusers work. There were likely instances where she slipped and he mentally made excuses, ignored the red flags because that's how it tends to happen. Hindsight is ever perfect. Being in the heat of it, we tend to try and excuse, defend, or otherwise rewrite it in our minds. We don't want to think of it as normal.

Then once they were married, Danneel began to let that completely slip and fall, and he was "trapped". The cycle continues. By now he thinks of it as normal, acceptable, maybe impossible to escape. He has likely been told no one would want him. He's "middle-aged", damaged goods. This has also been told to female victims and it's hard to break that mindset too. It's hard to find strength to completely break free when you've been fed insidious lies since childhood.

It's a trap. A difficult trap to break. Can it happen? Yes. But it's very, very hard.

2. Blackmail: This one can fall under two very different categories. One, the abuse one. Where the children (I've mentioned this before) are being used as hostages to guarantee Jensen's continued marriage to Danneel. As in, "If you divorce me, I'll make sure you never see the kids again!" It's a common threat, to boot.

Despite what some people have said, I believe Jensen loves his children. Yes, "especially" JJ, but I believe he loves all three. He may not be home a lot to see them, but he loves them. He would like to keep that access to them. It may be he believes Danneel's threat, and I'm sure there's some who believe it'd be "easy" for a woman to make such a threat and keep it.

Here's a hint, folks. The truth to that lie. If a father asks for full custody of the children in a divorce, they usually get that request granted, no matter what. But most of them don't ask for that, and so, the parent that does ask gets it granted. So... if a husband and wife vie against each other and both ask, guess who wins? The father.

Most fathers don't think to ask because of the perception of mothers always win. Mothers are the ones who should be responsible for children. And so forth.

Regardless... Jensen likely might believe that threat and feels some access is better than none.

Then the other kind of blackmail. Note: I do not believe nearly all that I'm about to write. This is purely speculative and a number of possible blackmail that Danneel might have over him.

There's the J2 tinhat rumors. I could see why those rumors lasted as long as they have. I've seen the stories, the posts, photos, watched them in conventions. It's entirely possible that Jared and Jensen did have some romantic/sexual relationship for a time. Maybe even after they got married to Genevieve and Danneel, it might have continued.

It could be Genevieve just accepted it and when it ended (as there was a gradual separation even before the whole The Winchesters/Prequelgate debacle), Jared and Gen were okay. Danneel... however... might not have been as okay with it as she indicated. Her posts over the years, where she tried to make it seem she and Jensen were together when fan photos and such came out at the same time of Jensen and Jared together, might've been wildly embarrassed by it all. She might not have been as okay with it as Genevieve was and just collected evidence to hold over Jensen's head.

After all, sadly, Hollywood still isn't as accepting of LGBTQ as we'd like. When actors come out, their careers usually don't continue, out of the weird perception that gay men can't act straight. (When I hear that, I look at Matt Bomer and go "Are you sure?!" I believed Bomer was a charming straight man even after he came out--his character on White Collar was awesome!)

So there's that possibility.

Then there's the orgies rumor we've heard about in the past. Or rather that one tweet that led to a threat of a lawsuit--which sadly made it valid and legitimate. Danneel really didn't know how to let a rumor die. It might make her look weird and bad too, but her career has been nonexistent for a long time and her reputation has already been destroyed by her own actions. It wouldn't hurt her nearly as much as it might hurt Jensen.

Then there's other possible vices. Alcoholism seems to be the more... "acceptable" of vices. As is smoking. If an actor is an alcoholic, they just go to rehab, get help, and be fine. But for someone who is self-conscious about their image, it might be more difficult to accept. Being seen drunk time to time is not the same as being an alcoholic, after all.

The same goes for drugs. Not that rumor has been very well-known, but it can exist.

Then there's the blackmail of affairs. In Hollywood, affairs and flings are considered a part of the life. They happen. Couples that are apart for a while time to time may dabble in affairs and flings. Even with co-stars. This happens too. More than most would like. (The more infamous one would be Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie on the set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Others have happened too. It's just common and accepted. Anyone saying otherwise is just wrong.)

Again, image-conscious and wanting to push the solid love marriage, this could be damaging. Even if Danneel hadn't really made it much of a secret that she's been having an on-and-off affair with Steve... it's still different. I repeat: she has no career or reputation to destroy. Jensen does.

Even if Hollywood wouldn't give that big of a damn about it.

3. PR Marriage: Now I know this has been pushed by other antis, and even suggested to me, but I find myself... hesitating on it. If it was in fact a PR marriage, why would he tolerate the abuse at all? Surely there'd be something in the contract about demeaning him and belittling him? It doesn't fit.

And there should have been protection over mistreatment or not fulfilling parts of it. I don't know... it doesn't quite fit. Not for me.

--

This was a long, long essay. I knew it would be, and it was still hard to write parts of it.

I want to end it with another point.

Female on male violence is often portrayed as a joke. Wedding Crashers had a female on male rape and it was a joke, a comedy bit. The one time I remember seeing such a scenario used on Law and Order: SVU, the male victim wasn't believed because he was a man and should have been able to overpower the woman.

Like it's expected of men to be able to just beat the shit out of their abusive partners... as though no one realized that if come upon by the police, any bruises on her would be taken more seriously than over him! Even if he had bruises too! Unless there's video evidence of physical abuse on him, anything else is considered... a joke. Impossible.

What's sad is that this too is an aspect of misogyny. Men are expected to be able to overpower women, so when a man is "taking" abuse and not fighting back, it's another part of misogyny. Because he's "lesser" than a woman, and that's shameful.

We have a lot of growing to do as a society. We need to realize that just because one person is making the money does not mean they hold all the power. We've only begun to see the problems of abuse, and all the areas it covers.

There's physical abuse, the one most commonly known. Then sexual, the second commonly known. The lesser recognized are financial (unless a person is a senior citizen, then it's considered a legitimate crime), and mental and emotional being the least known or recognized (only considered legitimate if done on a child and with proof).

Until we end the toxic expectations of men, and yes, women, and realize anyone can be a victim, and that we all, as a whole, deserve respect... we have a long way to go.

Just remember: It begins with you. It begins with us.

[cariantha]

A Solid Strategy

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Rewrite; Angsty Fluff Word count: 1.1K Summary: Ethan loses his temper after Sawyer makes an impulsive decision.

“Sawyer!”

Ethan’s deep booming cry reverberated off the walls of the expansive atrium.  

She grabbed Lamar’s wrist just before he jumped off the narrow ledge. The confused man dangled precariously over the atrium as patients and staff watched in horror below.

Just as Sawyer’s feet lifted from the floor, Ethan slammed his body against hers, pinning her against the railing.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding on for dear life, while another reached over the railing to grab Lamar’s flailing free hand. 

“I’m okay,” she promised with her feet once again planted firmly to the ground. “I’ve got this side. Let’s pull him up.” 

Together, they hauled their patient to safety and gently restrained him until additional help arrived. 

The scene was under control not long after. Lamar had been escorted back to his room by a couple of interns and hospital security. 

“Are you hurt?” Ethan asked, scanning Sawyer up and down.

She rubbed her abdomen where she had been crushed between him and the railing. “I’ll probably have some bruises tomorrow, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. 

“Then arrange the test and check in with Mrs. Stevenson to see if she has any questions about the procedure.”

He had already spun on his heel and started walking away before she could even say "Okay."

<><><><><><><><><><>

A while later, Sawyer tracked her boss down to his private office. With the door ajar, she peered inside.

Ethan sat at his desk, seemingly in deep thought as he stared at a picture of his late friend Dolores. The framed photograph that Sawyer gifted him last Christmas.

“There you are,” she greeted. “Anesthesiology is short-staffed today, so we won’t be able to do Lamar’s spinal tap until tomorr-”

Sawyer jumped in surprise when Ethan stood and slammed his hands on the desk, cutting her off.

“Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again. Do I make myself clear, Dr. Brooks?” he admonished.

The adrenaline rush had worn off. His neck turned crimson with fury as the feelings that had been suppressed by his body’s natural fight-or-flight response now bubbled to the surface. 

“W-What? I…,” she stammered, caught off guard by his severe tone and the use of her last name. “I-I’m sorry. I…I didn’t think. I just reacted.” 

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t think at all. A man that size could have easily pulled you over that railing with him. He nearly did!” 

“Ethan, I-”

He motioned for her to stop talking. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re lucky I don’t write you up for demonstrating reckless behavior and poor judgment.”

“He would have died! I had to do something,” she argued, cheeks burning hot with indignation.

“Your job is to save lives with medicine. You were not hired to be a goddamn superhero.”

“He wasn’t in his right mind, Ethan. I wasn’t going to let him hurt himself. And I wasn’t going to let that poor woman watch the man she loves fall to his death.”

Her words only enraged him further. “But you would let me watch you,” he thought to himself. 

Ethan hung his head low and took a couple deep breaths to control his temper before speaking again. 

“It would have been a terrible and unfortunate circumstance if Mr. Stevenson had hurt himself, but it would have been much worse if I…,” he cleared his throat, correcting his course, “...if we had unnecessarily lost two lives.”

Sawyer silently processed his words, having caught his slip. 

The way she looked at him, it felt as though she was daring him to say what he really meant. And it infuriated him. 

Too proud to admit his feelings and determined to keep their relationship professional, he hid behind his condemnation.

“You’re done for the day. Go home. I’ll find someone to take over your cases,” he barked.

Fighting back tears of frustration, Sawyer nodded and walked away.

She was only halfway down the hall when she stopped in her tracks. Looking back toward the now closed office door, she replayed their interaction in her mind. Though his words were cutting, and his temperament harsh, Sawyer suddenly felt bad for him. She had seen this side of Ethan before. This was the lashing out of a man who was afraid of losing someone he cared about.

A moment later, the door to his office opened and closed. 

Ethan stood with his back to the door, staring out the window. 

“I thought I told you to go home,” he growled, seeing her reflection in the glass.

Sawyer approached him cautiously but confidently, refusing to be cowed by his anger.

He turned to face her, prepared for the impending clash. An accusation of insubordination readied on the tip of his tongue.

She stopped within arms reach. With soft eyes she met his scrutinizing ones, and she waited until he discerned there was no fight to be had. Then lunging forward, Sawyer wrapped her arms around his torso.

He remained rigid, arms hanging at his sides.

Resting her chin on his shoulder, she apologized softly in his ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. If the roles were reversed, I’d feel the same way about you.” 

After a few seconds, she swatted him between the shoulder blades. “Stop being a jerk and hug me back.”

Ethan finally surrendered. He folded his arms around her and rested his head against the side of hers. 

Exhaling a deep, shaky breath, he released his remaining tension. 

“I owe you an apology,” he began, still holding her tight. “Though I stand by the sentiment, I am sorry for losing my temper.”

Sawyer placed a tender kiss on his jacketed shoulder. “Thank you.”

After a long, indulgent embrace, he pulled back and sighed.

“Christ, Rookie. How do you always seem to find trouble? How can I ever let you out of my sight?”

“Uh-oh. You’re on to me,” she winked. 

“I am somewhat serious. Have you forgotten when I found you turning blue behind the nurses’ station? Or your ethics trial?”

“Pft,” she waved him off. 

“Have you already forgotten when you nearly broke your neck at the Stevenson’s yesterday? And now we get to add being dragged over the balcony to that heart-stopping list.”

“Well…,” she shrugged her shoulders, “I did end up in your arms each of those times. So my evil plan must be working.”

With an endearing smile, she squeezed his hand and turned for the door. 

“Where are you going?”

“You ordered me to go home. If I leave now I might still catch the 3:30 train. And don’t worry, I’ll try not to get mugged or pushed onto the tracks,” she teased.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he warned with a shake of his head. “Give me a minute,” he instructed, pocketing his wallet and keys. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“See? It's a solid strategy.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @openheartforeverinmyheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin @headoverheelsforramsey @zealouscanonindeer

[chaosresturantjandn4eva]

#MHM

I’m not really sure if this is a mental health issue or not? I guess technically it is because it’s an emotion? Maybe? Or thought process? Forgive me I am honestly not sure what category this would fall under.

But, can we discuss the entitlement issue among this fandom? It’s something that really does NOT sit right with me. Something that has unfortunately brought me into several arguments with some of the wild Lucolukolas on TikTok.

Why do fans believe they are entitled to Luke & Nicola’s private lives? Why do they believe they are owed an apology for Luke having a girlfriend? Why do they feel that he SHOULD post her on his social media because it would stop all of the speculation and confusion regarding him & Nicola? I’m not going to lie. These comments from fans give me the ick. Maybe that’s a me problem? I’ll admit that wholeheartedly, if that is the case. I just do not like the entitlement. It really, really makes me uncomfortable.

I had a gal on TikTok argue with me that by him not posting Antonia, it shows he doesn’t care about her because if he posted her, the speculation would stop, and the hateful comments would stop. She also said something along the lines of, “if you believe he cares for her or loves her by his current actions then I pity your love life” and ouch, that was rude. I took that as “if your man doesn’t blast you all over social media then he doesn’t love you!” which screams immature & insecure in my opinion. Do we need to go back to MySpace? Be posted number 1 on the top 8 in order for a relationship to be real, meaningful, genuine? Be.. for… flipping… real…right now…. 🥴 My husband worships the ground I walk on but let me tell you… he doesn’t post me on SM.. mostly because he is hardly ever on but, also because why does he need to? That man comes home to me every day. That man gave me two beautiful daughters who we raise together. That man takes a shower & you best believe he probably pulls at least one of my hairs from his ass crack every time. That man lays beside me every single night. That man gives me the world. So by the logic of this woman because my husband doesn’t post me all over his social media, our relationship isn’t genuine? I don’t know. I just think this sort of behavior is gross.

Artists create art. We as consumers get to enjoy their art. That doesn’t mean we are entitled to the artist themselves or their lives.. only to the art they’ve created for us.

Anyway, that’s my opinion on that. I’d love to hear what others think! 🫶🏻

.

[sunwarmed-ash]

🌹 I heard you have more DBH goodies to share? 👀❤️

Yyyyeeeeaaaaa!!!!!

@sweeteatercat do yall remember the Christmas party one? I couldn't find it to reblog so im reposting plus more 👀👀👀👀👀

Gavin’s not really a Christmas person. In fact, he generally hates any hallmark or religious based holiday. But, the DPD throws one hell of a Christmas Party every year and any place with free booze and food is a place Gavin will be. 

He’s lost track of how many spiked egg nogs he’s had by now. It's well into the late hours of the night and the only people still here at the party are the desperate singles hoping to take someone they work with home for the night.

Gavin sorta falls into that category. Publicly he is single. But in actuality, he and Nines have been banging pretty much any time they get a free moment.  

Speaking of Nines, he hasn’t seen his partner-turned-fuck-buddy in a while. He scanned the room looking for the blue LED, not seeing him in the dim-lit bullpen. 

His peripherals catch movement and when he turns he sees the reflection of an LED on one of the glass office dividers. 

“Gotcha.”

Gavin dips from the bullpen after the android, hoping for once, maybe he can get the jump on Nines. 

-

“There you are,” Gavin growls, grabbing his android by the back of his neck before moving them swiftly and silently into a storage closet. “Been looking for this sweet ass all night.”

As soon as his boot kicks the door closed, Gavin’s lips are on Nines’, kissing him hard. It's been too long since he’s kissed his boyfriend and the spiked eggnog in his veins is making him frisky. 

“Gavin,” Nines pants and Gavin takes the opportunity of the androids mouth being open to push his tongue inside. The android whines before returning the kiss with equal excitement and Gavin chuckles. He’s never been able to reduce Nines to a whimper before. It fuels his ego enough to let his hands explore, slipping under his layers until Gavin’s fingertips touch heated, synthetic skin. Nines’ is speechless but his hands find Gavin’s hips and grip him tight, pulling him in closer. 

As soon as Gavin’s exploratory hands slip between Nines’ legs and squeezes his hard cock, two things happen. One. Nines pants, 

“Gavin, Gavin, it’s Connor,” against his lips, and Two. The door of the closet they are making out in flies open, casting their explicit activities into the light. 

The next moment Gavin is being yanked off Connor’s body by an invisible, familiar force. He’s moved and then pinned to the wall by unmistakably now, his android partner. A warning hand wraps around Gavin’s throat and Nines glacier eyes are lethal.

Shame and arousal burn hot through Gavin’s veins and Nines threatening punishment only makes him hotter. 

“N-Nines, come on.” 

The hand around his throat tightens. Gavin yields further. “I’m sorry, I didn't know, swear-”

“So you'll throw yourself on anyone who shares my face? Should I call up Sixty? See if he’s free to fuck your loose hole too?”

Gavin’s hips rocket forward with a groan, positively begging for friction, attention, anything his partner will give him, but Nines anticipates it and moves out of the way, not giving Gavin an inch. 

“Nines, babe, come on, it's not like that,” Gavin pleads, hoping this fit of jealousy turns into more of the hot claiming sex that always leaves Gavin’s mind clear and body limping the next day. Because Nines did get jealous, even if he insists his ‘advanced model’ doesn't. Especially when it comes to Connor. 

“Right, its not personal, you're just a slut.”

Gavin hates to admit it, but yeah, that’s really it.

“You're both hot, phcking sor-ry.” And it was an honest mistake. Outside of the eye color Connor and Nines look identical. And it's dark, and he’s been drinking. Its a party, cut him a phcking break.

Nines’ eyes lower threateningly but Connor smiles like Gavin just gifted him the highest praise. It does stupid, conflicting things to his heart. 

“Boy I sure hope I'm interrupting,” someone slurs a little drunkenly, and Gavin’s entire body breaks out in a hot sweat because he’s caught, with his literal pants undone, still obviously hard, and very much in the middle of something explicit with not only his android, but Hank’s. 

“On the contrary Lieutenant, you're right on time,” Connor chirps, leaning over to kiss him right in front of Gavin and Nines. 

Gavin is phcking shocked by the motion whereas Nines barely flinches. Which can only mean,

“Wait, you knew?”

“I’m surprised the entire precinct doesn't know. It’s not like they’ve been particularly stealthy,” Nines scolds.

Connor giggles and Hank joins in on the laughter. 

“Yeah, well you're just pissed Gav doesn't put out as much as Connor does.”

“Excuse me?” Gavin sasses before Nines’ strong grip on his cock has him snapping his jaw shut. He moans and attempts to gain some control over his body before clearing his throat. Nines smirks. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you think anyone was talking to you slut?” Nines mocks and Gavin’s mouth falls open to pant again.

“Phck. S-Sorry…”

“Better. Now did you need something?”

“Fuck me, please,” he begs a little brethless, because that’s all he wants. Is to be fucked so hard he can’t walk tomorrow. By all three of them most preferably. 

“Oh you’ll be fucked. But you’re getting punished first. Hank and Connor will watch.”

Gavin’s knees buckle from the overwhelming pleasure that fills him with.  

-

Gavin’s hands are behind his back, handcuffed together and his ass is naked and exposed for Nines to punish and Hank and Connor to openly ogle. It makes his cock ache and his body itch in anticipation for whatever Nines is going to do next. 

The first strike comes across both ass cheeks hard, and Gavin's hips buck against the cold metal table. 

“Phck Nines, don’t cripple me.” 

“Act like a slut get treated like one.”

“Yes Sir,” Gavin groans, melting a little deeper against the table. The second hit is hard, but not as much as the first and its perfect.

Other people might object to this kind of treatment, but in all actuality Gavin likes it. It's kinda the problem. Well its not a problem in his eyes... “Does that mean you’re all gonna fuck me too?”

Nines rolls his eyes. 

"You don't deserve it, but yes." 

Gavin whines and his brain whites out in pleasure in anticipation of actually being fucked by all three of them.

"Open your mouth." Nines orders.

Gavin does, naturally sucking Nines long slender fingers into his mouth, and coating them generously with saliva. 

"He's got you trained real good Reed," Hank teases.

It makes Gavin’s whimper around the digits as his cock pulses out more precum.  

"Enough," Nines says, pulling his fingers back before finally, finally breaching his ass with one, then a second in quick succession.

“Oh phck.” 

"Connor, come here," Nines orders and Connor takes a place behind Gavin. 

"He needs to be looser if he’s going to take your Lieutenant.”

“Yes, he is,” Connor confirms, and Gavin is hit with the visual of Hank breaking Connor with his enormous cock and pre cum is pushing out the pierced head of his cock. 

“Oh phck…”

“Lick him open. Don’t make him cum.”

[journey-to-the-attic]

That's for linking the role swap au I forgot about it but I loved it so much-

Now my only problem is where Zhaoxi should be placed in the AU, or if all, for the dads to romance. I had. Many thoughts on this (some more disastrous than others). Sorry in advance if this AU you were happy to be Zhaoxi free.

1. Least horrible (in my opinion) option. Zhaoxi was a creche teacher at the time and IK was one of his many kids to watch over. Probably blames himself partially on turning a blind eye to IK wandering around (not so much as turning but he was busy with many kids) and how that 'led' to her death (I doubt Diavolo or Mephistopheles willingly aired out the king's dirty laundry, so this is assuming no one knows the truth about IK's death). One day while mourning the death of IK (either he stopped being a creche teacher or he does it under false cheer), a newly arrived and brooding Lucifer runs across him and the two be sad old men together about the deaths of their loved ones (even if Lucifer's brothers are still with him, his sister is not and his brothers' dying still hurts too). Sad old men bond over being sad, then try to be happy despite the sad and help each other slowly heal. Only for Zhaoxi to spot demon IK later at the exchange and just frickin. Collapse. Watch out Devildom you might have another fallen angel soon.

2. True dad pairing. Sonno and Lucifer. Impossible and I refuse for all their sakes. I admit to touching on this in my thoughts (as Sonno, if I'm spelling his name right, is IK's creator and Father as an angel) but I refuse. I refuse.

3. *True* dad pairing. Solomon and Lucifer. Very weird in context to their relationship in the actual game/Jtta but Solomon in this AU has raised IK for x amount of years and possibly more closely falls into the Father category for IK. Possibly wouldn't work because Lucifer is religious figure turned angel in this AU so it can never be something official on the eyes of the Devildom masses (even if he fell I remember you mentioning that you doubted the demons would accept a fallen angel as King, would they accept a fallen angel as Queen?). Bonding over rascal IK and her antics with the brothers, Lucifer soon becomes the poster angel of angel-demon exchange program. Briefly thought if Solomon may have tried and failed to tempt Lucifer when the angel was a man but not sure. Could be a Thing where Lucifer's pride was not his downfall (at that moment) because his belief in his flock and brothers kept the tempting Solomon at bay. But also not the point of these thoughts so.

Sorry for the brain rot especially when you aren't on this AU specifically and there are other pairings besides Zhaolu I know but. Yeah.

Hi and have a nice day. Don't forget to hydrate.

okay this is not meant to be the takeaway, but i love the common thread that having a dadly connection to ik is enough to link a pair up

so re: scenario 1 - the swap goes human -> demon, ik is specifically demon-who's-a-fallen-angel, so technically zhao would be a demon - but if he just falls later in the timeline, this still fulfills the condition. though diavolo would have to have a really good reason to do that - which is assuming he hasn't straight-up banned exile as a punishment

(also, slight tangent, i gave myself this idea by saying "fulfill the condition": consider that this is an au within the universe itself. as in, this is an alternative timeline that is connected to the jtta one, in the same vein as all the universes in everything everywhere all at once or the spiderverse movies. idk where i'm going with this but the idea of some higher cosmic being playing dolls with these characters, making them suffer to fill some kind of story quota... which i'm now realising is basically just what we do every time we invent an au whoops. think the special ending(s) in pathologic)

actually this made me think of something: given sonno's very overbearing rule in all universes, i wonder if in this version of the celestial realm, the regular angels don't actually know that dissenters get exiled and fall, they straight up think they just die

i imagine diavolo knows from early on, and part of the reason it takes him so long to get the yikes and rebel is because his dad convinces him that exile is the kinder option over actual execution, so it's only once he's forced to banish a harmless fledgling that he fully registers that hey this is fucked up

re: scenario 2 - sonno and lucifer is so insane a concept, not least because it 1. could make lucifer diavolo's stepfather, and 2. in this au, could also make diavolo ik's stepbrother - and for these reasons it is so fucking funny (sonno is dead by the present of this au, but his remnants could always come back as the Big Bad of the whole story)

i feel like whatever solomon and lucifer have going on in scenario 3 could be this au's equivalent of solomon's constant "pact? pact?pact? pact? pact?¿", but solomon starts doing more of a "diplomatic partnership?diplomatic partnership?¿" thing sbjhdfbs

(also i know the 'least horrible' metric is probably in relation to the insanity of sonno/lucifer - but the way the precedent is set + order the scenarios are given in makes it sound like solomon/lucifer is the most horrible option lol)

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 7 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - this fic deals with some very dark themes such as drug use, self-harm and suicidal ideation. Please proceed with caution and Minors DNI. There is a reader insert but it is very Spencer-centric.

Chapter Summary - Spencer makes an unlikely ally in the form of a rather flirtatious nurse and struggles with his new routine.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - anxiety, medication, flirty nurses, swearing, weight loss and jokes about “fattening” Spencer up, group therapy, talk of drug addiction and overdose, talk of suicidal thoughts, PTSD, depression, mentions of Tobias Hankel, withdrawal symptoms, brief mentions of Calvin Shaw and Luis’s death, therapy, paranoid thoughts, talk of medication and depression.

WC - 6.1k

Chapter 7 - Diary of a Madman

“Sir? Mister Reid? Mister Reid, are you ok?” 

Spencer groaned as the pain quickly flooded back and he blinked up at the face looming over him. 

“It’s…Doctor. Doctor Reid.” He wiped his face with his hand. 

“I’m sorry, are you ok Doctor Reid?” The man, presumingly the nurse, helped Spencer sit up. 

“Uh…I’m not sure.” He admitted. 

“Did you fall out of bed?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“We need to get your wounds redressed.” The man wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist and helped him sit back on the bed. 

It was only then that Spencer realised he was wearing just his boxers and t-shirt. Being undressed in front of people caused no end of anxiety for Spencer. In new and strange situations Spencer liked to be covered as much as possible by way of comforting himself. Keeping himself covered from strangers' eyes offered him an odd kind of solace. 

He had no idea where it stemmed from but he’d carried it with him his whole life. 

He was quick to pull the sheet over his body, up to his neck. 

“Can I…my clothes?” 

“I need to redress your wounds first.” The nurse smiled sadly at him, moving back to the cart Spencer hadn’t noticed until now, and picking up a first aid kit. 

Spencer pulled the sheet impossibly higher. 

“I’d really rather we didn’t.” He pouted. 

“We have to stop infections. I’m sure you understand.” He waited patiently for Spencer to remove the sheet of his own accord, not wanting to panic him. “My name is George by the way.”

“Hi.” Spencer swallowed, taking a few deep breaths to ready himself. 

He closed his eyes as he brought his arms out from under the sheets and kept them closed while George went about bandaging his arms again. He focused on his breathing the whole time, and not the way George’s gentle touches still caused pain to shoot through his whole body. As soon as he was done, Spencer retreated his arms back under the sheet. 

“Your leg please?” George asked softly. 

Spencer still didn’t dare open his eyes as he pulled back the sheet just enough to free his right leg. Again he kept his attention on his breathing, the expanding and deflating of his lungs in his chest. 

George hummed a little while he worked, whether or not he was conscious of it, Spencer wasn’t sure. But he found it strangely comforting. When George was finished and Spencer was covered all the way with the sheets again, he finally opened his eyes. George had moved back towards his cart, grabbed a small pill cup and a cup of water and returned to Spencer’s side before handing them to him. Spencer looked down at the two little pills in the bottom of the paper cup. 

“I assume one is methadone. What’s the other?” 

“Zoloft. Doctor Sherman prescribed it.” 

“Zoloft.” Spencer repeated. Not Prozac but not entirely dissimilar. “I don’t want it.” 

“Unfortunately you have to take it. Take one now and you can discuss it with Doctor Sherman later.” 

Spencer knew one pill wasn’t going to affect him much. Logically he knew that. But his rational thinking wasn’t at its best as of late. He knew how to placate the nurse enough so he quickly popped the pills in his mouth and took a sip of water. 

George stared at him for a moment and Spencer knew what he was waiting for. He sighed a little before opening his mouth to show George it was in fact empty. 

“Thank you.” George turned around to go back to his cart and Spencer hurriedly extracted the pills from their hiding place under his tongue and stuffed them under his pillow. 

When George turned back to face him, he was none the wiser. He placed two rather plush looking towels on the end of the bed along with a small toiletry bag. 

“What’s that?” Spencer chewed on his lip. 

“Shampoo, body wash, toothbrush and toothpaste.” He patted the bag. 

Of course, because he was expected to shower everyday and take care of his personal hygiene like a normal person. He had absolutely no idea when the last time he showered was. He remembered showing before leaving his apartment to buy drugs that night but he was starting to think that last conscious memory was from nearly a year and a half ago. He raised his hand to his face and brushed his fingers over his stubbly jaw. 

“I need to shave.” He mumbled but George’s wry smile told him the answer to that. “But of course you aren’t going to trust a suicidal maniac with a razor.”

“Your words, not mine.” George chuckled. “We do have a small salon where we take care of things like that. I can request an appointment if you like?” 

“Sure.” Spencer sighed. 

“So the shower rooms are left out of your room at the end of the corridor. Once you’re showered and dressed you can head down to the dining hall for breakfast.” George smiled. “Up you get, I’ll wheel you down there.” 

“Uh…I’m good.” Spencer shook his head. 

“No offence but you don’t smell good.” He chuckled. “And it’s protocol for patients to shower every day.” 

Spencer pouted again.

“They’re not…people can’t…” he pulled the sheet tighter around him and George filled in the blanks. 

“They are individual cubicles. No one can see in. You’ll have privacy.” 

“I don’t suppose there is any way you will just turn a blind eye and pretend you took me for a shower?” 

“Again, no offence, but no one that comes within fifty feet of you is going to believe you showered today.” 

Spencer groaned loudly. 

“At least let me put my pants and sweater on?” 

“As long as you take them off in the shower, that’s fine by me.” George collected the clothes off the floor and handed them to Spencer before turning away and giving him some privacy. 

Spencer quickly wiggled into the clothes, pulling his hands up the sleeves and letting George know he was done. 

“You want some clean clothes for after your shower?” 

“Please, they're all still in my bag.” He nodded to the duffle bag on the floor. 

George slung it to the bed and Spencer sifted through the clothing Emily had packed for him. He grabbed some clean boxers, a clean pair of mismatched socks, some black dress trousers, an old t-shirt he hadn’t seen let alone worn in years, and another oversized sweater. 

Spencer kept his head down while George wheeled him down the corridor and into the bathrooms. He pushed his chair up to an empty cubicle. 

“Can you stand?” George asked him with a concerned frown.

“For short periods. As long as I don’t move too much.” Spencer shrugged. 

“Let me help you into the cubicle and then I’ll wait right out here for you, ok?” He was already wrapping an arm around Spencer's shoulders. 

Spencer cradled his towels, toiletry bag and clean clothes while George helped him into the cubicle. George gave him a smile before backing out of the cubicle and Spencer quickly locked it behind him. At least it was better than prison. At least he had some semblance of privacy. 

He set his belongings on the small bench and sat down next to them while he undressed. The quicker he got this over with the better. Grabbing the little bottles of shampoo and body wash he pushed himself back up on his good leg and hopped to the shower head. 

He switched the shower on and at first the water was freezing but even as it heated up it didn’t get as hot as Spencer would like. He tried to adjust the temperature, to turn it up to the scorching levels he preferred but the dial didn’t budge. 

“Uh George, I think the temperature gauge is broken.” He called over his shoulder. 

“Not broken. They are fixed at a certain temperature.” 

“W-why?” 

George’s chuckle echoed through the bathroom. 

“For moments like this. Scalding hot showers are not permitted, Doctor Reid.” 

Spencer shuddered slightly at his teasing tone and his use of his honorific. In the real world Spencer would undoubtedly try his luck with George and assuredly end up in bed with him. 

In the real world. 

Not here. Not where Spencer was the patient and George was tasked with taking care of him. He needed to get his mind out of the gutter. 

The shower was pleasant but not as much so as if it was hotter. He let the luke-warm water cleanse his body, somewhat mesmerised by the way the water rolled off his dressings. 

Waterproof. Of course. 

His arms screamed in pain when he raised them to wash his greasy hair but the pain was satisfying. He kept the majority of his weight on his left side, every so often daring to lean against his right and revelling in the pain it caused. 

He washed himself languidly, surprised by how much he was enjoying the showEventually he had to shut it off though as the pain in his leg became too much to stand. Maybe he should have taken the methadone. If that’s even what it was. 

He sat back on the bench and dried himself with the towels. He was still damp when he dressed, instinctively pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands. He reached forward and unlocked the cubicle without standing and gave George a tight lipped smile. 

“See, much better. I can’t smell you anymore.” George laughed and Spencer really liked that sound. 

He let George help him back into his chair and wheel him over to the sinks so Spencer could brush his teeth. He was so grateful for the lack of mirrors in the bathroom because he knew seeing his reflection would only freak him out. He brushed his teeth vigorously and when he was done George returned him to his room to put his stuff away. 

Despite being in the wheelchair, Spencer insisted on slipping his converse on his feet, feeling strange without shoes on. Afterwards he let George wheel him to the dining hall and Spencer felt his anxiety skyrocketing. He could already hear the bustle from inside before they reached it and it caused his chest to constrict. He tried digging his nails into his palms and failed. And then he remembered the rubber band. He’d forgotten all about that. 

He moved his hand up his sleeve and started snapping the band on his wrist. His new dressing didn’t come down as far as his wrist and the feeling of the rubber hitting his bare skin grounded him a little. It had been a long time since he’d been around a large group of people and mentally he wasn’t prepared for it. 

His hands still up his sleeves he wrapped his arms around his small frame as far as he could, hugging himself tightly. His good leg bounced up and down and grinded his teeth relentlessly. 

“You’ll be ok.” George whispered as he pushed him closer to the door. “Everyone here is really nice. Maybe you’ll even make friends.”

“You sound like my mother on my first day of college.” 

“College?”

“I was only twelve. Don’t worry.” Spencer shook his head, hugging himself tighter. 

They entered the hall and Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as he took in all the sounds and faces in the room. 

“This is my worst nightmare.” He mumbled under his breath but George heard him. 

“Your worst nightmare, really? Over dramatic much, Doctor Reid?” 

Spencer shot him a look over his shoulder. 

“You must need to eat right? Why don’t you have breakfast with me?” 

“I have breakfast at five am, long before you’re awake. And contrary to what you might think, I do have other patients to see.” George smirked at him. 

“Fine.” Spencer groaned. “Just sit me somewhere quiet please? I’m really not ready to be thrown in at the deep end.” 

George found a table occupied by only two other patients and wheeled Spencer’s chair to the far end of it. 

“This ok, your highness?” George teased. 

“Oh stop.” Spencer rolled his eyes. 

“What do you want to eat?” 

“Uh…I have no idea.” Spencer shrugged, he hadn’t even thought about eating. 

“Ok, well do you have any allergies? Vegetarian? Vegan?”

“Nope.” Spencer shook his head. “I am particularly partial to coffee though.” 

“No coffee here I’m afraid. I can offer you juice?” 

“I’m beginning to dislike you.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’ll have whatever. Honestly I don’t even care.” 

“That’s the spirit.” George teased again before heading away to get Spencer’s breakfast. 

“Can’t get any goddamn coffee, what is this place? I could get coffee in prison for fuck sake.” he mumbled under his breath, staring down at the table in front of him. 

“They don’t let addicts have stimulants.” a meek voice forced him to look up from his stare off with the table top.

One of the patients from the other end of the table was now sitting next to him and it put Spencer on edge instantly. He looked to be no older than twenty, with thick rimmed glasses and slicked back hair. He wore a button up shirt under a thick cardigan. If Spencer didn’t know any better he would have thought he was looking into a mirror to the past. Everything about this boy, his awkward posture, his fidgeting hands, reminded Spencer of his younger self. His tight lipped smile didn’t help dispel that feeling. 

“I’m Taylor.” The boy gave him a gawky wave, similar to how Spencer himself would wave. 

Spencer stared at him in confusion for a few moments until he decided to shake it off. 

“Spencer.” 

“What are you in for?” 

There were way too many similarities here to prison. 

“Uh…dilaudid and cocaine.” he fiddled with his fingers in his lap, still firmly hidden away up his sleeves. “You?”

“Heroin.” the kid shrugged. 

“You’re so young.” Spencer mused out loud which made the boy chuckle dryly. 

“There’s no set age upon which stupid decisions begin.” 

“Good point.” Spencer agreed. “How long have you been here?” 

“Uh, like five months I think?” 

“Does it get any easier?” Spencer chewed on his lip in anticipation of his answer. 

“Honestly?” Taylor pulled a face. “No. If they let me go tomorrow the first thing I would do is go and get high.” 

“Super.” Spencer turned his attention back to the table, signifying he was finished talking. 

Soon after, George returned with a plate and a cup of juice. The plate was piled so high with food Spencer wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it. There was an array of eggs, bacon, sausages, bread, mushrooms and other items Spencer couldn’t even see under the stacks of food. 

“You expect me to eat all of this?” Spencer’s eyes were wide as he looked at George. 

“I think you’ll be surprised how hungry you are. And you are kind of terrifyingly skinny, even though you try to hide it under large sweaters.” George smirked. 

“You’re trying to fatten me up?” Spencer raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” George nudged him in the arm playfully and usually Spencer would become skittish from someone touching him like that.

But he found he didn’t mind so much. 

“Right, I have to go see other patients now, if that’s ok with you, your highness?” 

“Stop calling me that. I didn’t ask for your help. I’m sure I can handle a wheelchair on my own.” 

“We’ll see. Have a good day, Doctor.” George winked at him and Spencer felt an odd flutter in his chest. 

He watched George walk away, completely unaware Taylor was watching the whole thing. 

“Someone seems to be a little taken by you, Doctor.” the boy mocked him, causing Spencer to snap back around to look at him. 

“He’s…he’s being nice.” he picked up his plastic fork, hand still encased in his sweater sleeve. 

“There’s nice and then there’s nice.” Taylor wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Spencer didn’t have a response for that so instead he focused on his food and ignored Taylor. To his surprise he found himself eating the entire plate and feeling satisfied afterwards. He would have felt more akin to normal if he’d been allowed coffee but he couldn’t deny the food definitely helped him feel more human. That feeling was fleeting though and they were soon being directed towards their group therapy sessions and that thought alone banished any feelings the food had given him. 

Another nurse wheeled him towards one of the therapy rooms, one much less chatty and friendly than George. He curled his toes up inside his shoes as though that would somehow stem the anxiety he was feeling. He scrunched his hands into balls inside his sweater sleeves and chewed aggressively on his bottom lip as he was wheeled inside. 

A circle of chairs was set up in the centre of the room. The nurse moved one aside so she could slot Spencer’s wheelchair in its place. Half the seats were already full but Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. Instead he resorted to looking down in his lap and clenching and unclenching his fists in time with his breathing. 

It was then that he started feeling the pain spreading through his body again. George’s company and the enjoyment of eating a proper meal had stemmed it, blocking his brain from processing the agony he felt. Now he had nothing else to focus on, the pain came back tenfold. He really should have taken that methadone. Eventually all the chairs filled and he still didn’t look up from his lap when someone started talking. 

“Good morning. For those of you who are new, I am Cedric Masters. I’d like to start the session like we always do and go around the circle in turn and I’d like you each to describe how you are feeling today in three words. I’ll go first: thankful, rested and mindful.” 

Spencer glanced up at the therapist, honed in on only looking at him and no one else in the room. Cedric, like Maggie, had extremely kind eyes and an amicable smile. Spencer wondered if it was a requirement for working here. He had short dark hair, gelled back from his face and strong, tattooed biceps peaking out under his t-shirt. The more Spencer watched him, the more similarities he could see between Cedric and Matt. 

Spencer zoned out a little as one by one people started to speak. How on earth was he supposed to describe his feelings in three words? Spencer had hundreds of words for how he was feeling, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. But he supposed that was the point. He was expected to say the first three words that came to his head which in itself would get insight into his mental state. 

But Spencer had never been good at just saying what was on his mind. If he was better at that he might not have ended up here in the first place. He didn’t realise the room had fallen silent as he was too busy wracking his brain for three words to define how he felt. Someone cleared their throat and Spencer suddenly looked up to see the whole room was looking at him. 

“Spencer is it?” Cedric smiled at him. 

“Uh, yeah.” Spencer shrunk in on himself under the weight of all the eyes on him.

“Can you give us three words for how you are feeling today?” 

“Three doesn’t seem like enough.” he told Cedric honestly. 

“I understand that. Feelings are hard to sum up in such a way. But I’d like to ask that you try. Just give me the first three words that come to mind.” Cedric smiled softly at him but it didn’t help Spencer’s nerves.

“Uh…” he chewed on his lip, still contemplating it although he wasn’t supposed to be. 

“There are no right or wrong answers, Spencer.” Cedric encouraged. 

Spencer nodded, taking a breath to just clear his mind. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, letting the words just come out.

“Scared. Hurt. Terrified.” he felt a little stupid, two of the three words had the same meaning. But Cedric didn’t seem to mind and he was quickly moving on to the next person in the circle.

After this activity Cedric had group members volunteer to talk about how they were feeling, how they ended here and how they were coping. Spencer knew there was absolutely no way he was going to get out of sharing his story. He knew how these things worked. He was new to the group and he was going to be expected to talk. Having other people go first was Cedric’s way of putting Spencer at ease. 

It didn’t. 

Four people spoke but Spencer didn’t take any of it in. He was too busy trying to get his story straight, keep it short and to the point because he knew he had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous. These people didn’t need to know everything about him. Keep to the facts. Don’t digress. You can do this, Reid.

“Spencer?” Cedric’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

Spencer refused to look around the room, he kept his eyes on Cedric and tried to pretend it was just the two of them. 

“I had an overdose. Dilaudid and cocaine. I was told I was in the hospital for three weeks before I was moved here. I’m suicidal, suffering from major depressive disorder, PTSD and panic disorder. And I know this place is supposed to help me but all I want in the whole world is to get high again.” He hadn’t realised his leg had started jiggling up and down and now he couldn’t stop it. 

“Can you tell us something personal about you? Tell us about your support system.” Cedric encouraged. 

It was too similar to his talk with Maggie last night. Did they really need to know about his friends? But despite himself, Spencer found he actually wanted to talk about them. If he was talking about the team it meant he wasn’t talking about himself. He kept his eyes honed in on Cedric and spoke again.

“Uh well…that would be my old team. At the FBI. So there’s Emily. She’s the boss…the Unit Chief. She’s like a big sister, she always takes care of everyone. She’s so compassionate…she’s one of the best people I know.” Even if I am mad at her right now.

“Then there’s Penelope who’s crazy smart and extremely quirky. She’s like the life of soul of the party, you can’t help but smile when you’re around her. JJ’s great too. We used to be a lot closer but we kinda drifted apart a bit. I’m godfather to her two kids Henry and Michael who are just the greatest kids. 

Rossi I guess is kind of like the father figure. He’s stern when he needs to be but he’s also a huge softy. We play chess together a lot but I always beat him. Then there’s Luke who is so much smarter than people think he is. People see him as just this pretty face but he is so much more than that. He’s one of my favourite people to talk to. Tara is a complete badass, she’s equal parts smart and funny and her personality is completely infectious. She was a great addition to the team, really balanced us out. And Matt I don’t know so well but he seems really great too. I left the team before he joined properly but I’ve heard good things about him and I’m sure he’s fitting in just great over there. And uh…well…that’s it, I guess.” 

Spencer took a breath and realised he’d been spouting on and on, just like he told himself not to. His cheeks immediately burnt in embarrassment and he averted his eyes to his lap.

“Sorry, I ramble when I’m uncomfortable.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, Spencer. I’m glad to hear you have such a large support system.” Cedric nodded before moving on to some else.

It caused Spencer’s blush to deepen. Were they really his support system? He’d cut them all out of his life, ignored all their attempts at trying to contact him and pushed them away. He was still pushing them away, telling his Doctor he didn’t want to see any of them. The truth was, Spencer did want to see them. Every last one of them. He was just scared of having them see him. 

But if anyone was going to be unphased by his state it was the seven members of his old team and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to see them. 

***

At the end of the session Cedric bestowed a journal on Spencer. Much like Delaney had explained, Cedric told him that it was his private journal and he didn’t have to show anyone what it contained unless he wanted to. Another nurse helped Spencer back to his room where he would inevitably stay until someone came to get him for lunch. 

He sat at the desk and opened the journal to the first page. He started by writing down all the things he’d said about his team in group therapy, a reminder of why he needed them if he ever forgot. Then he turned to a new blank page and hovered the pen above it. 

I have never once in my life kept a journal, with the exception of prison. What am I even supposed to write here? I understand the premise, it’s supposed to be a way of getting my thoughts out of my head. The truth is though, I don’t even know what I’m thinking. Or maybe I’m just thinking too many things that I can’t get an accurate grasp on anything in particular. 

One recurring thought is how much goddamn pain I’m in. It’s funny really, I used to use physical pain to mask my mental anguish, I enjoyed pain. But right now I’d do anything to make it go away. Maybe it’s because of the extent of the pain. It’s not localised, it’s spreading throughout my entire body. Every little movement, even just writing this, hurts immensely. And when I'm in pain all I can think about is how much a hit of dilaudid would help. Just one, tiny hit and all the pain would go away. One more hit and I would be able to sleep without these vivid dreams clouding my mind. One more hit would make everything so much easier. 

I’ll tell you one thing, being a drug addict is the hardest thing in the world. I wish I wasn’t one. I’d do anything to go back in time and not take those vials from Tobias’ dead body. If I could just go back and not suggest JJ and I split up…Gideon told me not to hold onto the past. No, that’s not true, Gideon didn’t tell me that. I told myself that through Gideon. In a dream. 

“It’s holding on to things like that which has gotten you into this situation”, that’s what he said. Or what I had him say, I suppose. “Let go of the past, it's not doing you any good to hold on to all that disappointment.”

I know he’s right, or I’m right. Whatever. The point is I know it’s not healthy holding onto the past and wishing for a different outcome. What’s that saying? “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

Is that what I’m doing? 

There are so many things I would do differently if I could. I’d leave the dilaudid alone. I’d visit my mom more often. I would have told the team before I went to Mexico, or maybe I wouldn’t have gone at all. 

I would have stopped Y/N from walking away. 

I hope I can convince someone to call her. I know it's a bad idea, trust me I know that, but seeing her face again might help me find the strength to fight this. I’m scared I’m losing my memories of her. I thought once my brain started flushing out the drugs my memories would become more clear but it seems to be having the opposite effect. And the worst part is, I can’t work out why. 

He paused, noticing his hand was shaking and his writing started jittering across the page. He grinded his teeth and tried to focus on stopping the tremors. When withdrawing from drugs was so goddamn excruciating, it was no wonder people relapsed. He continued grinding his teeth and tried to push through it. 

None of this makes any sense to me and that frustrates me more than anything because I can usually make sense of everything. All I know right now is that I need to see her. I need to see her face and hear her voice. I need her to tell me it’s going to be ok and then I might actually believe it. 

I don’t know what I’ll do if I forget her. I can’t even think about that because I will crumble. She always knew all the right words to …

He was forcibly ejected from his thoughts by a knock on his door. He sat up and set his pen down on the desk, closing the journal before the door opened. Doctor Delaney smiled at him as he took a step inside.

“Hi Spencer, how are you settling in?” he asked him and he seemed to genuinely care about the answer.

“Ok I suppose.” Spencer shrugged. 

“Are you ready for lunch?” 

“I don’t know if I’m hungry. I had a really large breakfast and I’m not used to eating so much.” 

“Just eat what you can, that’s all we ask. We want you to get healthy again. And to do that you need to gain a substantial amount of weight.” Delaney stepped further into the room. 

“I guess.” Spencer shrugged again. 

He let Delaney help him back into the wheelchair and wheel him back out of the room. 

“When do I get to start physical therapy? I’m sick of this chair already.” Spencer spoke as they headed down the corridor. 

“You have another session with Maggie after lunch and then instead of taking part in afternoon activity classes you’ll have a session with our PT. Is that ok with you?” 

“Yeah that’s…yeah.” Spencer nodded. “Uh…did you call Emily yet?”

“I did not.” Delaney replied quickly and if Spencer didn’t know any better he’d think Delaney never actually planned on calling her. “Should I not?”

“I think it might be…you know, good for me if someone came to visit today.” 

“I think that’s a great idea, Spencer.” 

They were suddenly entering the dining hall and Spencer’s anxiety spiked. Delaney wasn’t quite as kind as George and sat him at a table full of other patients. While Delaney went to fetch him some food, Spencer stared at his lap and continuously snapped his rubber band against his wrist, counting the snaps in his head. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight…

“You alright there?” 

His eyes shot up and met the eyes of the boy sitting next to him. 

“Oh, hi Taylor.” Spencer pulled his sleeve back down to cover his hands. 

“I used to have one of those too.” Taylor smiled wryly. 

“Did it help?”

“Sometimes. I think it helps take your mind off things but not as good as cutting.” He spoke honestly and Spencer appreciated that. 

“Yeah I’m noticing that.” His fingers wandered up this sleeve and he snapped the band again, averting his eyes into his lap once more.

That was always Spencer’s way of shutting down a conversation. If he wasn’t looking at you it meant it didn’t want to converse. Thankfully Taylor seemed to understand as he didn’t speak again. 

Delaney brought over his tray of food and informed him a nurse would take him to his session with Maggie after lunch. Spencer just wanted to get on with his physical therapy, his mental state would be much better if he could get up and walk around. 

He ate half of his tuna melt and drank two thirds of a glass of juice before he was full. Or maybe he wasn’t full, maybe he just didn’t feel like eating. He kept his eyes down and listened to the chatter going on around him. He wondered if he’d ever make friends here or if he even wanted to. It might help pass the time if he had some kind of confidant. Even in prison he’d had Luis, until he was killed, and Shaw until Spencer had poisoned him. 

But being here had forced Spencer to retreat back into his shell, revert back to the shy and awkward kid he’d been in his early days at the BAU. He thought he’d grown out of that. He was older and more confident now. Or so he’d thought. Turns out, some things never change. 

Lunch seemed to drag on for hours. Spencer thought he might actually rather be in therapy than sitting here wishing he was invisible. Finally a nurse came along to drag him away from self imposed isolation and they traversed the now familiar corridors to Maggie’s office. 

He was wheeled in, helped onto the couch and then the nurse was leaving again. 

“Good afternoon, Spencer.” Maggie smiled at him. “How are you feeling today?”

He pulled his one good leg up onto the couch and hugged his knee to his chest. 

“Ok?” He posed it as a question. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“No.” He admitted. 

“How is your pain? Honestly, please Spencer. On a scale of one to ten, one being barely any at all and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Where do you think you fall?” She folded her arms in her lap. 

Spencer wrapped his arms around leg, his hands still buried in his sweater, and rested his chin on his knee. 

“I don’t know. Three?” 

Maggie raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. 

“Ok five.” He pulled a face. “Seven?” 

“So the methadone didn’t help?” 

“I guess not.” 

“You know for medication to work, you actually have to take it.” She narrowed her eyes on him. 

Busted. 

“Oh. You know about that.” He chewed on his lip. 

“Your medication was found under your pillow when housekeeping cleaned your room. They have to report these things. Can you tell me why you didn’t take them?”

“I didn’t think the methadone was working…I thought it was a placebo.” He confessed. He shoved one hand in the opposite sleeve and started toying with the rubber band. 

“What would make you think it’s a placebo?” She gave him a curious look. “It takes much more than one dose to make any significant changes. I assumed you were smart enough to know that.” 

“Statistically I am.” He kept gnawing on his lip and flicking the rubber band. “But I’m also incredibly paranoid.” 

“I can assure you Spencer, we are not giving you placebo drugs. We want you to get better.” 

“And theoretically I know that. But my brain isn’t all it used to be these days.” 

“What about the Zoloft? Why didn’t you take that?” 

“I told you, I had a bad experience with Prozac.” Spencer sighed. “I was depressed before the Prozac. Obviously, that’s why I was put on it. But the Prozac is what led to me feeling suicidal. And even after I stopped taking it those feelings never went away. I’m scared that Zoloft will make that worse again.” 

There must have been something about Maggie that put him at ease because he never thought he’d be this honest with a therapist. It must have been her likeness to Tara. 

“Unfortunately there is that risk with SSRIs. They tend to make you feel worse before they make you feel better. But if you stick with it, it will make you feel better.” 

“I’m scared.” He admitted with a sniff.

“I promise you I am here for you every step of the way, Spencer. We’ll have sessions every day and if you feel yourself getting worse we’ll discuss alternative solutions. But I really think Zoloft will help with your depression and anxiety. And once you have those under control, your drug addiction will be easier to manage.” 

He nodded against his knee and Maggie smiled as she pushed herself up and made her way to the medicine cabinet. Although Spencer still wasn’t convinced, he trusted Maggie. So when he tossed back the pills this time, he actually swallowed them. 

“Thank you, Spencer.” She said quietly as she sat back in her chair. “Now can you tell me how you’ve been feeling today.” 

Snapping the band against his wrist again he heaved a sigh and then he told her exactly how he’d been feeling. 

And by the time he was done, he was sobbing into the fabric of his slacks. 

Taglist

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @dirtytissuebox @smurphyse @ssa-uglywhore27 @reidselle @reidsbookclub @tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 9: The Emptiness

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Rossi has a secret, but even he's not sure what it is.

Read chapter 9 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

"She hasn’t got anything! She’s fishing to see what she can get us to admit to. I don’t know how you can’t see that,” said Rossi in exasperation.

“This is the same person who managed to track me down in wit-sec, Dave, I don’t think we should underestimate her,” pointed out Hotch. "Even if you're right, which I agree is a possibility, what's our alternative?"

“She isn’t going to let us starve,” countered Rossi. “If we start giving her personal information that she may not already have, all we’re doing is weakening our position.”

“Dammit, Rossi, how much weaker can our position get?” snapped Derek. “If I die of starvation because you’re too proud to tell us what you’re hiding I am going to track you down in the afterlife and kill you again. I don't care about your pride more than I care about getting home to my kids.”

“I’m an old man, alright? I’ve got at least a dozen things that fall into the ‘I’m never talking about this with anyone’ category. I don’t even know how to narrow it down,” said Rossi, throwing up his hands dramatically.

“So tell us all of it,” insisted Derek.

Rossi scoffed and said something in Italian that Spencer didn't understand, but could only assume was cursing of some kind.

Spencer sighed, standing in the corner, watching them bicker.

He had been halfway through The Shipman’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales when the door had clunked. The others had shot up like lightning, gathering around the portal like pathetic mewling kittens waiting for feeding time; thin, weak, desperate.

He had hovered at the back of the group, watching. It's not that he wasn't as hungry as the rest of them. Perhaps he just lacked the capacity to hope like they did, because he had known, somehow, that it wasn't going to be food coming through that chamber.

All that had passed through was a note.

JJ had read it out. “You have all been bad and broken the rules, but I know how to forgive. Are you hungry yet? If you want to prove to me that you are well behaved, Agent Rossi will tell you what he is hiding.”

Things had quickly devolved from there.

“Come on, Rossi,” said Emily. “It will be something recent. Something big. Likely something you have been actively trying to conceal. I know you know what she wants you to say. I could see it on your face as soon as you heard the note.”

“Look at what Emily and Spence had to go through,” said JJ. “You’re not the only one this is happening to. We have to eat. It’s the first rule of survival when held captive. You have to eat whenever you can."

“What if I spill every detail of my personal life to you and then she doesn’t feed us anyway, because I don’t know what the fuck she wants me to say?”

“Then I guess we’re taking your secrets to the grave, so what the fuck does it matter?” countered Derek.

“Dave, we don’t want to hear this anymore than you want to say it,” said Hotch. “Can we please just get this over with?”

Rossi glanced at Spencer from across the room. “Nothing to say?” he asked, maybe hoping he would defend him, maybe needing him to confirm that they were all against him.

Everyone looked at him.

He shrugged. “I…” he’d opened his mouth without knowing what he wanted to say, “… don’t care.”

There was a drawn out pause as the others all tilted heads and raised eyebrows. He folded his arms across his chest and offered nothing else.

“Very helpful, thank you,” deadpanned Rossi.

They all turned back to their bickering, ignoring him.

He tuned it out.

They had made it through War and Peace, Slaughterhouse 5, Gravity’s Rainbow, and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy before finally getting onto The Canterbury Tales. The hungrier they all got, the less they talked. The less they moved.

They listened to Spencer recite stories for them for as long as he could until his voice broke or they all fell into a fitful, uncomfortable facsimile of sleep.

He didn’t mind. It was a nice little break from reality. Before he had narcotics, he had books. One certainly wasn't a replacement for the other, but it was an opportunity to be anywhere but in his own head, so he wasn't complaining.

As their bickering turned into a wordless blur of aggression in the background, he wondered if the empty feeling in his bones was hunger, or something else. He really meant what he said. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if Rossi every talked. He didn’t care if they ever ate again.

Since detox, his emotions had swung wildly between anger, grief, and anxiety, crushing sadness, and the constant burning need to scratch an impossible itch.

Slowly, all the rest of it had been slipping away until the only thing left was emptiness and the itch.

It was just as likely the malnutrition and inevitable vitamin D deficiency as anything else.

He wasn't the only one who was being a little stranger than usual. JJ had half an eyebrow almost missing from where she kept pulling at it, and scabs on her knees where she was picking at her skin.

Derek had been crying in his sleep. Not crying instead of sleeping, but literally crying while in REM sleep. A constant stream of silent tears. Spencer had never seen him cry like that, ever. They all silently agreed not to tell him he was doing it.

Spencer was broken from his reverie by a loud and exasperated “Alright! Just shut the fuck up! I’ll talk,” from Rossi. “I still think this is a stupid fucking idea. If we wait, she’ll at least give us another note with something more specific-” he held up a hand to stop the others from interrupting, “If you want me to freely give her information she may not already have so that she can use it against us, then so be it.”

“I just want to eat, Dave,” said JJ sadly. “Derek's not the only one who wants to stay alive to see their kids again.”

His eyes softened. “I know.” He looked at the group. “Okay, gather round kids, time for ol’ Dave to self-flagellate in the town square.”

Rossi sat on the floor, not too far from Spencer. The others all formed something of a circle, arranging themselves in such a way as to include him, whether he wanted to be or not.

He sat down and crossed his legs, just like he used to do when his mom would read to him as a kid.

Rossi sighed. “Fine, alright. If I had to guess, which I do, then I would say our Unsub is most likely referencing some financial issues,” he said cagily. They all stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He sighed again. “Keep in mind, my wife had just died. As you are all aware- well, most of you,” he said with a glance at Hotch, “I was not in a particularly good headspace.”

“To put it mildly,” said Emily.

“Exactly. So, I may have been a little irresponsible when looking for emotional outlets. Now, I enjoy a bit of poker-”

Hotch scoffed. “How much money did you lose, Dave?"

“Who’s telling the story here?” sniped Rossi. “Anyway, it’s not like that. I’m still rich,” he said dismissively. “Unfortunately, the people who are trying to extort me know that I have money to spare and it’s proving to be a motivating factor.”

“What?” shouted Emily, as Hotch put his face in his hands exhaustedly and Derek and JJ boggled.

“Calm down,” said Rossi. “It is not that big a deal. I was- and again I want to point out that I had just lost Krystall- a bit careless. I got involved in an underground poker game that a friend of a friend put me onto and,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “one particularly tense night, one of them wanted to up the ante. I’d had a few drinks and was feeling particularly depressed and sorry for myself. And I will remind you, this all happened before the Voit case. I am, well, was, in a better place. Prior to being stuck in this bunker, obviously.”

“Oh my god, Rossi, what did you do?” asked JJ, cutting off the rant, bracing herself for the response.

“I’m getting there. Just… Emily, promise me you won’t freak out.”

Emily blanched. “You saying that to me, specifically, is making me feel like I’m definitely going to freak out.”

“Spit it out, Rossi,” said Derek.

“Somebody, not me, suggested... Russian Roulette.”

Rossi scrunched up his face to brace against the reactions before he even finished the sentence. When no reactions came, he cracked an eye open and looked around the room.

Spencer also looked at all of them, not quite able to understand what they were feeling, and not quite able to understand why he wasn’t feeling anything at all. He should be devastated, worried, furious.

Hotch laughed. It was bright, bubbling, and incongruous with the past version of the man that Spencer had known.

“Sorry,” Hotch said, stifling it.

Emily laughed too, which started him up again.

Pretty soon all of them, including Rossi, were doubled over. Red faces, tears streaming from their eyes. It was almost enough to soften the gaunt angles of all of their faces. To make them look fully alive again.

Spencer forced out a laugh.

Emily recovered herself just enough to wheeze out the words; “What are you? A grizzled detective from a Raymond Chandler novel? How is this your life?” before losing composure again completely.

Eventually, with a few fits and starts, the laughter died down.

He'd never seen Hotch laugh like that. Was that because he had changed somehow in his absence, or was that just what starving a bunker does to a person?

“Okay,” panted Derek. “Okay, okay. So how does blackmail factor into this?”

Rossi wiped the tears of laughter from under his eyes. “Oh, turns out some piece of shit knew who I was and was secretly recording the whole thing. It came to my turn, and I couldn’t do it. I came to my senses and just left my money on the table and got the fuck out of there. But the footage doesn’t look good. Enough for a media scandal to make the Bureau shaft me off into forced retirement. Never mind scaring the shit out of my daughter. I didn’t need the drama.”

“The drama…” said a bewildered JJ. “Yeah, that’s the biggest worry here.”

Rossi raised his hands defensively. “I know, alright? Like I said, this was before Voit and before grief counseling and the rest of it. I’m aware that I was not coping very well at the time.” He paused for a moment. “Unlike now, of course, where my life is going great.”

JJ rolled her eyes.

“So, what did you do about the blackmail?”

“Hired an intermediary to deal with it. Someone discreet who knows how to negotiate with people such as that,” he said nonchalantly.

Spencer got the impression that he didn’t intend to elaborate any further.

They all stared at Rossi for a while.

“If that is not the story the Unsub was trying to pry out of you, I am fascinated to know what the fuck else it could be,” said Derek.

“Just wait until it’s your turn,” said Rossi.

“Me? Man, I have nothing to hide. Whatever secrets I had you all learned a long time ago,” said Derek confidently. “This bitch can bring it on.”

“Hopefully we’re all out of here before it becomes an issue,” said Hotch, not so confidently.

“So we’ve got you shooting up heroin,” said Derek, pointing at Spencer, who would usually be irritated or ashamed at the comment, but instead could barely muster a shrug. Derek continued, “and we’ve got you putting guns to your head,” pointing at Rossi, who very carefully didn’t react, “and you interfering with coroner's reports,” pointing at Emily, “and not one of you thinking to just talk to your damn friends when you need help.” A beat. “What the fuck is wrong with you all?”

“Don’t lump me in with them,” said Rossi. “I discussed it at length with my grief councilor. I don’t have to tell you people everything.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged looks.

“Oh great, we’re the problem children,” deadpanned Emily.

He cracked a small smile, almost able to summon a genuine flicker of warmth for his friend.

“Me more so than you, I think,” he said.

“You’ve got that right,” said Derek dryly, but with a small smirk so that Spencer knew he was teasing. “But hey, look where all my good behavior got me. Stuck down here with the rest of you dysfunctional weirdos. Except you JJ,” he added.

She batted her eyes in mock innocence. Hotch raised an eyebrow at being apparently lumped in with the dysfunctional weirdos but offered no argument.

“So, do you think that was it?” asked JJ. “Food is on the way?”

Nobody wanted to be the one to answer, so Spencer did. “I’m sure it is.” He wasn’t sure. She knew it. They all knew it.

They all nodded in agreement.

“Are you feeling up to playing narrator again?” asked Emily.

He let out a breath in relief. That, he could do. He couldn’t think of anything he would rather do more, in fact, than go and live in someone else’s world for a while.

He nodded.

“No more Canterbury Tales, please,” said Rossi. “Something a bit more contemporary.”

“I know just the thing,” said Spencer.

They all found their spots where they could lay on the floor and listen. He closed his eyes, seeing the words of the book as clearly as he had when he read it. He took a breath, then spoke the first line of The Hobbit. They could all use a bit of fantasy, he figured.

[peonyblossom]

Ethan patching up MC after a cut/graze 🥰

Cat Scratch

Book: Open Heart (post canon) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x m!MC (Sydney Valentine) Other Characters: Caramel Ramsey-Valentine, Burrito Ramsey-Valentine Words: 912 Category: Hurt/Comfort, Domestic fluff Rating: General Warnings: Minor injury Summary: When Sydney gets bitten during cat bath time, Ethan takes it upon himself to take care of the wound. AO3 link here A/N: I am. so sorry that it took me literally like six months to answer this. hope you're still here and reading this 🫶

“Okay baby boy - it’s your turn!” Sydney scooped Burrito up in his arms and carried him towards the bathroom. Caramel was a pro at baths, not that she necessarily enjoyed them. Burrito, on the other hand, had never gotten one. “Are you ready for your first bath?” Sydney cooed to the tiny kitten, as he entered the bathroom. “Hopefully he’ll be as good as his sister.”

“Yes, hopefully we can get this done quickly,” Ethan said.

“Are you not enjoying cat bath time, Ethan?” 

“Not particularly.”

Sydney giggled as he brought a now squirming Burrito closer to the tub. Sydney stepped in and sat on the built-in seat, cradling Burrito to his chest. “Okay, baby, time to get cleaned!” Sydney slowly lowered Burrito into the water, as Burrito started fighting back, splashing both Sydney and Ethan. “It’s not that bad! I promise you’ll be okay.” 

Sydney held Burrito down in the water, careful not to let his head fall underneath. Ethan started washing the kitten who kept thrashing about in the water. 

“Burrito, it’s okay! Please calm down.” Sydney attempted to keep the kitten calm, but he started loudly meowing.

“It’s okay, we’re almost done,” Ethan reassured both Sydney and Burrito.

Sydney moved his hands out of Ethan’s way, so he could continue washing Burrito. Unfortunately, and unexpectedly, this upset Burrito who immediately turned around to chomp on Sydney’s hand. 

“OW!” Sydney tried to pull his hand away, but was unsuccessful due to Burrito’s shockingly strong grip. For such a tiny kitten, he had a lot of jaw strength.

“Burrito, no!” Ethan carefully pried his jaws open so Sydney could remove his hand. “You, okay, babe?”

“No, I’m bleeding.” Sydney laughed, trying to distract himself from the pain. “But, let’s just finish his bath. We’re almost done anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

The two quickly finished washing Burrito, before wrapping him in a towel. Ethan held the kitten and dried him off so he could warm up. “Is your hand okay?”

“I think it’ll be fine, but it really hurts.”

“Okay, let me finish drying off this little troublemaker and then I’ll help you.”

“I’m a doctor, E, I can clean my own minor wound.” Sydney rolled his eyes.

“I know you can, but applying band-aids with one hand can still be difficult. Besides, you know I like taking care of you.” Ethan left the bathroom to place Burrito on the heating pad they had set out. 

Sydney blushed as he waited for Ethan to return. He did know Ethan liked taking care of him, even when he didn’t need it. Or, at least, wouldn’t admit that he needed it. 

“Okay, let me see,” Ethan commanded, reentering the bathroom. Sydney complied, holding his hand out. “Syd, this looks pretty deep.”

“It’s just a kitten bite, how bad can it be?” Sydney attempted to downplay his injury.

Ethan wasn’t buying it, glaring at Sydney. “You and I have both seen plenty of people get infections from cat bites. Even domestic cats.” Ethan put Sydney’s hand under the running water in the sink and gently washed off the bite with hand soap. Once he felt it was sufficiently clean, he shut off the water and dabbed it dry with a clean towel. He reached into the medicine cabinet and grabbed the rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. “I don’t think I need to tell you that this will sting.” Ethan gently, but effectively, cleaned the bite with alcohol.

“Ow.” Sydney frowned.

“I told you it would sting.”

“I knew it would, but I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was.”

Ethan sighed. “Yeah, you have a tendency to do that, honey.”

“Hey!” 

“I’m just saying, you can diagnose just about every patient you’ve ever seen, but can’t properly assess your own injuries. It’s okay to need help sometimes. And to ask for it.”

“I know. It’s just easier said than done. Now stop psychoanalyzing me and get back to fixing my hand.”

“Fine, fine.” Ethan grabbed a band aid and carefully opened it, expertly placing it on Sydney’s wound. Ethan placed a kiss on the band aid. “All better.”

“You’re so cute.” Sydney smiled.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Thank you, for helping me.” Sydney placed his arms around Ethan’s neck, careful not to disturb his hand too much.

“You’re welcome, love.” Ethan placed his hands on Sydney’s waist and pulled him close for a kiss.

“Now, let’s go see how our babies are doing.” Sydney pulled away and walked to the heating pad in the bedroom. “Hi, baby!”

Burrito was now curled up on the heating pad, completely calm. Caramel was laying on the bed, still damp and undoubtedly getting it wet. 

“I told you the bath wouldn’t be that bad! At least not for you.” 

Ethan laughed as he sat on the bed next to Caramel, who immediately climbed into his lap.

“She loves you so much,” Sydney observed.

Ethan sighed, “I know.”

“It’s understandable. I love you too.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t contain his smile. “I love you, too.”

Sydney smiled and laid on the floor next to Burrito, while looking up at Ethan and Caramel. “Look at how happy he is now!” Sydney exclaimed.

Ethan laughed, “You know he just likes being difficult. Wonder where he got that from.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

Sydney stayed silent, knowing Ethan was right. Burrito was a little troublemaker and he definitely didn’t learn it from Ethan.

[triforce-of-mischief]

Hey! This is a trypanophobe lu x reader request, if you're still accepting those!

I was hoping for one with trypanophobe reader- 🐭💖✌️😮😣(mayyyybe 😫 but I'll leave that up to you), and for level of detail kinda both 💬 and 🙈? Like needs to know what's happening and how up until the moments before the actual happening, if that makes sense.

It's okay if you don't have time or don't wanna or if you gotta pick one of two I was stuck on for the last detail, because the trypanophobe stuff you already have out is awesome! I'm just excited to be here tbh

If it counts for anything, I also fit all 5 mentioned categories for who can make these requests XD

Thanks for your time!

Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy! 💜

💛 Reblogs appreciated along with likes and comments!

💛 You can request your own scenario here!

💛 Content under the cut!

“Four? Four, wait, I don’t think I’m ready after all.”

He's a few steps ahead of you, and pauses right before he can enter the building. He looks back, concern filling his eyes when he sees you frozen in place. “What’s wrong? Do you feel dizzy at all? Like you can barely stand?”

You take a moment to evaluate yourself. Your chest feels tight, like an invisible force is constricting it. “A little? Not like I’m going to faint though, don’t worry. I just…” You take a deep, shaky breath. “I-it’s a bit hard to breathe,” you admit, and Four immediately returns to your side.

“That sounds like a mild panic attack,” he says, taking your hand and walking you to the door. “I’m afraid that you’re still going to have to do this, my love.”

You whimper and shuffle behind him, then you check in and sit down in the waiting room.

“Are you sure we can’t do this another day?” you try, gazing longingly at the door leading back outside.

“We’re already here,” Four points out. “It would be way worse to go through all of this anticipation just to delay for a few more days. I’m going to be with you every step of the way and you’re going to get through this, just as you do in all things.”

You sniffle and wipe away a tear. Your boyfriend is right, of course, and you trust him with all of your heart.

“Hey…” Four says your name at the same time as a nurse on the other side of the waiting room. He stands, pulling you up beside him. “Shall we?”

You really want to say no, but something in that gentle, caring expression encourages you to follow him. You try to imitate his confident posture and steady pace as you follow the nurse down the hall and into the room. Four keeps holding your hand as you enter and take a seat while the provider sets out the last of their equipment. You make sure to not look in that direction, instead setting your attention on your fingers intertwined with Four’s. He notices your trembling and smooths his thumb over your knuckles.

“Just like that, darling. Keep your attention on me,” Four says.

The provider asks, “Which arm do you prefer?”

You blink confusedly at Four, who tells the provider which hand is your dominant one.

“That makes sense,” you mutter. No need to put your dominant arm out of commission.

“Mm-hmm,” Four hums, the cadence soothing you further. He then tells you what the provider is doing as they complete every step of preparation.

“They’re feeling your arm now… they’re tying a tourniquet just above your elbow, it might feel a bit tight but that’s good, it’ll help make it faster… here’s just a cleaning wipe, it’ll be cold for a second.”

With your arm ready, you know what comes next. You realize that you're crying now, but Four cups your cheek, catching the tears before they can fall. You hiccup, then swallow and say, “Four, can you please-”

“Of course, dear,” he murmurs, leaning over until he is resting against your side. “Breathe with me,” he prompts, and you feel and follow his rhythm.

“Breathe in…” You both do, squeezing each other’s hands.

“And out.” The air leaves you, slow and steady, and you feel a prick of pain in your non-dominant arm.

“You’re doing wonderful, sweetheart! That was the hardest part, now you only have to wait. Which reminds me, did I ever tell you about the time when the Minish secretly kept me entertained during the most boring wait of my life?”

You rest your head on top of Four’s, nuzzling his hair with your cheek. “I don’t think you have, love. Tell me, please?”

Four launches into his story and the discomfort in your arm fades as you listen until you barely feel any pain at all. Before you know it, you feel a tug, then faint pressure as the provider holds a cotton ball to the site.

“If you don’t have any issues in a few minutes, you’ll be free to leave,” the provider says as they wrap a bandage around your arm.

“You did it,” Four whispers.

“I did it,” you repeat with an incredulous giggle.

Four looks up, a warm rainbow of colors swirling in his eyes. “And I’m so proud of you!”

[st0rmyskies]

Hey Stormy! How would you rank the boys at mouthstuff? Who's good at it, who relies on enthusiasm over skill, who just won't keep their teeth out of things, who's an equal opportunity diner?

God, I get the best anons. From least skilled to most...

Wind. Thin lips, all teeth, this boy is far too clumsy to be good at "mouth stuff" and far too proud to admit he has a problem and actually attempt to fix it. Good thing Wind is much more skilled with his hands.

Warriors knows what feels good and decidedly does the opposite. Where's the fun in giving oral? That doesn't feel good for him. Also prevents him from being his usual snarky self, so he double hates it.

Twilight falls into the category of enthusiasm over experience. He has the benefit of knowing what feels good and he is super excited to please his partner, so much so that even if he doesn't get it quite right, he's got the spirit.

Legend. There's a significant jump in skill between him and Twilight, but what some would claim he lacks in "enthusiasm" others would chalk up to his stone-cold dom demeanor. He knows for a fact what feels good and he's merciless about exploiting it. Hyrule certainly has no complaints.

Time. Bet you thought he'd be higher, huh? It's been established that Time doesn't prefer to give oral to his partners with a penis, although he has done it and he gets good reviews. When it comes to Malon, though, being between her thighs is his happy place. If he could come home from a shit day at work and just sit on the floor in front of her chair with his head under her skirt, he'd be an incredibly happy man.

Hyrule. Listen, we've all seen The Bunny Game, need I say more? Hyrule is whatever his partner needs him to be, no matter what. Whether that's being enthusiastically noisy and messy or silently taking whatever's given to him, he lives to please.

Wild knows how to give, loves giving, and looks damn cute while doing it. Who doesn't love having their partner all smiles and playful laughter while they're going to town?

Dark. Two words: tongue ring. There's a reason this man got one, and he wields it like a weapon. Dark is a big fan of giving all things oral, and that tongue is long and strong.

Sky. Because come on, look at those lips. He's got a gentle disposition, boundless patience, and such a perfect soft mouth. Sun sure is one lucky lady.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I would like some animalisms today yes please

Aight so how about some animal/character clashes? (Mostly under a read more since this got a bit long)

Like I said before, Chica is of course, programmed as a chicken. She has that 'pecking order' mentality where those that are the most valuable are at the top and those that are less valuable are at the bottom. Since she’s not an actual chicken, everyone’s place in the pecking order is determined a bit differently to how they would normally be. The biggest resource the animatronics have is popularity, meaning the biggest part of where they fall on the hierarchy is determined by how popular they are. Next off is how much they do in terms of protecting and entertaining large groups of kids specifically. And finally, there’s the part of how much money each animatronic and their attraction makes, which she determines based on how much merch she sees kids carrying of everyone else, and how often Fazbear Ent does a promotion for their associated attraction.

At the top of this hierarchy, there’s Chica, Monty and Freddy. Freddy is below the other two mostly because of how he treats the other animatronics (an important thing that has a lot of layers in Chica’s case but not as relevant here), and he would be lower if he wasn’t so damn popular and such a big money maker for the company. Next you have Sunny and Moon. They’re pretty high up, and are pretty popular, but she sees less of their merch around and Fazbear Ent does offers on daycare passes fairly often so she assumes they aren’t massive money makers. They’re the best with large groups of children and the youngest kids at that, so yeah they get an almost top spot, being just above Freddy, but not quite on the same level as those three. Foxy comes after them. He’s highly popular and makes a lot of money, but she virtually never sees Foxy fans in Mazercise and has made assumptions based on that. Remember, her hierarchy is based on what she knows, and not necessarily what’s true. Bonnie is up there with Foxy but only because he’s shifted down the ranks slowly over time. He really annoys Chica for a long time and I’ll get to that in a second but it’s not helping his place in all of this. DJ Music Man comes this far down because while she’ll admit he looks cool as fuck, this guy doesn’t even have merch. If he’s got no merch at all he can’t possibly be that popular and he can’t possibly be of any great value to their company overlords. Unfortunately for Roxy, she’s almost at the bottom of the list. She’s in a similar boat to DJ in that she just straight up lacks one of the things Chica judges this all on. Her attraction isn’t open to the public until three years after Security Breach would happen, she’s a wandering animatronic with a small – yet dedicated – fanbase and doesn’t usually work with huge crowds. So yeah she’s not doing great across the board. The Minis aren’t on the board at all. Chica doesn’t even know what the look like until she catches them fucking around with Roxy or DJ.

Flower the Cupcake and Barney the Pirate Wood Duck are not on this hierarchy. In Chica’s eyes, Flower is her chick and Barney is Foxy’s. Children aren’t held to the same standards here. The Minis get moved into this category eventually, if not associated with Roxy and lumped in with her value. Humans like Vanessa, are also held in their own hierarchy, that basically just has the managers at the top and Vanessa’s place shifting depending on how much she’s getting in Chica’s way.

Now, chickens are pretty brutal. They like to make sure no one starts shooting above their station and everyone knows their place. This is why at first, Bonnie pisses her off so much. He moves between all the friend groups in the plex really easily with no regard to this hierarchy, sometimes even doing it just to spite her and yeah it pisses her off sometimes. But basically, this whole thing leads to some… issues, even without bringing in her character personality that clashes with all of this. Those at the top of the hierarchy are considered her friends. She makes a real effort with these people and this is the group her character personality and parts of her true personality can really be seen. More on that later. The bottom of the hierarchy is where you have the problems. She doesn’t treat anyone ‘below’ her as anything but a pain in the ass. The lower the animatronics are beneath her, the worse this gets. She gets bitchy, mean, and if pushed, will not hesitate to throw down. It’s less than ideal to say the least, and causes all sorts of major problems for her and for everyone else for years, many of which she doesn’t even notice.

Now, something that fuels this aggression? Her regular character personality that was programmed alongside her animal one. She’s kind, supportive, caring, bubbly and overwhelmingly friendly, up for anything and always taking an interest in what people are up to. She’s supposed to be a great friend and the kind of person you can go to for help with anything and everything. You can talk you troubles away with her and she’ll love chatting with you…

Which is in direct contrast to how she feels she should be acting towards a huge group of people and half the animatronics in the Plex. It’s confusing when she wants to make friends but at the same time wants to beat someone down at the same time. She finds all of this incredibly frustrating to get her head around. How can she be friendly to everyone when only some of these people are even worth her time?! And yet she still wants to be there, and wants to laugh and play with these people, but given the state of well… everything, she most often sides with the chicken hierarchy than the friendly character. She takes this frustration out on those at the bottom of the pecking order whenever they start to step out of line and that doesn’t sit well with pretty much anyone she’s friends with.

It takes three years after her introduction for Chica to start on the path to being a better person but damn are those first three years rough. Roxy is pretty lucky she shows up several years into Chica working on herself but with Roxy’s mess of problems, Chica can sometimes really struggle for a while to continue to be that better person. She gets there though and eventually the two of them, along with the Minis, DJ and everyone else have a real friendship going.

It’s a lotta work though. She’ll get there.