#because interactions with abusers often end in torture

[furiousgoldfish]

Without the abuse, I wouldn't have been this scared in every human interaction. I wouldn't feel like my life depends on saying the right thing and finding my way out of this situation safely. I wouldn't be this timid, this cagey, reluctant, imagining every worst scenario that can come out of a social situation. I wouldn't have images of torture in my mind when attempting to say no. I wouldn't find it this hard to refuse being useful to others when it violates my freedom.

I would be able to speak my mind. I'd be able to be honest in my own way, instead of finding reasons and reasons why I have to be as pleasant and non-demanding as possible. I wouldn't be afraid to ask for information when I want it. I wouldn't be scared to check what my options are.

Abuse forces me to walk the thinnest line of being convenient and nothing else. I don't get to have a personality, there's only fear. I'm different when I'm alone, I'm not afraid, I know what I want. But if you put another human being next to me, all of my convictions are overwritten by survival instinct to appease and escape.

[raining-anonymously]

i really really appreciate how much the mouthwashing gameplay emphasizes that curly is still a feeling human person after the crash. he reacts to every single thing that happens around him. he makes decisions. he changes his behavior as the game progresses. these subtle details are everything to me. he’s not a prop.

CW for discussion of medical abuse, forcefeeding, torture, gore, autocannibalism, basically everything curly experiences in-game

“he doesn’t want to keep still any more.” our first line in curly’s presence. anya doesn’t say “he won’t keep still anymore,” she says he doesn’t want to. this diction provides a sharp contrast to jimmy, whose only acknowledgment of curly’s desires comes up when he puts words in curly’s mouth, while anya observes curly’s body language to extrapolate what he actually wants and needs. she considers him a person, just as the player is meant to; jimmy does not.

the progression of the pills scenes. in the first one, he’s in about as little pain as we see him. he just chokes it down.

in the second pills scene, anya is late on giving him the pills and he’s clearly in great pain, crying, tossing and turning even though that probably just hurts him more. i do think the way the crying can be heard through the entire ship is jimmy’s auditory hallucination, but it was loud enough to wake jimmy up from the lounge. when jim actually does give him the pills, curly briefly resists, but after that first hit, he cries out in pain and then gives this strangled “huh?” before the beating continues. he cries out a couple more times before realizing jimmy wants him to be quiet, and he stops crying out, lets jimmy give him the pills, and sobs quietly before going silent.

in the third pills scene, curly seems to be trying not to make noise or resist. he still sobs after the pills go down and falls quiet after.

after anya’s and daisuke’s deaths, curly lies so still and quiet that i’ve witnessed multiple players be shocked that he’s still alive when his chest moves.

and the infamous laughter… that’s definitive proof that curly isn’t just reacting to stimuli like pain (which would not make him less of a person, for the record) but actively observing and thinking about the events around him.

when jimmy picks curly up. despite the fact that having his burns pressed against another person would be excruciating, curly does not react. just breaths hoarsely and keeps his eye locked on jimmy — until he ends up on the table surrounded by the corpses. then, and only then, does his breath get panicky, and he starts to cry softly.

cutting the leg. my goodness, those screams. incredible voice acting, first of all, but it really stands out to me that it isn’t a terrifying, inhuman scream. it’s very human, very desperate and pained, mixed with heaving, awful sobs. and afterward? curly’s so shaken that he’s visibly moving his jaw on his own as he gasps for breath. and the look in his eye…

in the force feeding scene — which, in my mind, was a hallucinatory version of real events — curly is silent and still. he only moves or cries out when he’s forced to via vomiting or the wheels turning (though the latter is likely imagined). he doesn’t react to anything else. doesn’t even hold up his head. but he gives these pained cries when the wheels turn, and this draws awareness to how he’s being treated as a prop here with intention. he’s being dehumanized, reduced to an object, but we as the player are painfully aware that this is a person. he’s not reacting more because he’s shutting down from all the trauma he’s experienced.

and i have a lot in my head about the juxtaposition of curly POV scenes with jimmy interacting with post-crash curly scenes. they’re often perfectly timed to remind you that the person on the cot, on the table, or in your arms is the same man who you were a minute ago, and vice versa.

just. man. mouthwashing emphasizes curly’s humanity at every corner, and that makes his story so much more horrifying.

i really like this game and i really like that it displays a disabled character being dehumanized by the player character while also emphasizing to the player that this is not right.

[endearng]

Lifeline

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x addict!reader Summary: How does one move on after seeing the lost versions of themselves on someone else entirely? WC: 8.8k Warnings: canon criminal minds violence (m-rder); pr-stitution and mentions of sex; s.h-rm; illegal substances consumption; mentions of dr-g abuse; panic attacks; graphic suicide attempt. Minors, please, do not interact. A/N: This is heavily based on "The A Team", "Gale Song" and "evermore" and also Skins UK's character Effy Stonem. Besides that, I was also somewhat inspired by CM'S 2x11 and I messed up the timeline. Feedbacks are always welcome! | masterlist

"Her name's Amelia Holden. She was found in a dumpster in an alley of a neighborhood in central Richmond. Along with her, we have four women murdered within two weeks." JJ informed as she briefed the team about the case they were invited to work on.

Their reactions always were different. Aaron Hotcher remained unreadable, often asking about the local police's findings. Derek Morgan usually worried about victimology and the modus operandi. Emily Prentiss used to brainstorm details on the pictures. David Rossi was the one to make comparisons with previous cases. Spencer Reid busied himself with data, statistics and whatnot about the locality.

Speaking of which, "This is an high-end neighborhood, not to mention the obvious fact that it happened in the capital of Virginia. Based on that, one could think that the citizens will cooperate to solve this as fast as we can."

Derek sighed, "I wish I could tell you're wrong in different circumstances, pretty boy." Spencer frowned, eager to ask, but Derek was faster, "Truth is, these girls were all prostitutes. The rich won't give a damn if they go missing, which is pure hypocrisy based on the fact that they go where the money is, which is, well... in their neighborhood." JJ pursed her lips, taking another look at the evidence.

There were pictures of four girls, placed so carelessly in the dumpster that it was possible to deduce that they had been all thrown in there already dead. Not a single chance of survival. Not a single chance someone could save them. JJ felt a lump in her throat and looked away from the photos.

“It’s most likely a male.” Rossi said.

Emily nodded, asking, "So what do you guys think? Maybe this guy is murdering them because he thinks he's doing society a favor?"

"It could be, yes. When prostitutes are targeted, the main reason is misogyny, but we can also associate these crimes to other forms of hatred. It can also be related to power." Spencer answered. "Are there any signs of sexual abuse?"

"No, only physical violence." JJ answered. "The coroner's reports indicate that they were drugged, some of them with multiple substances. There are red bruises as well as knife scars and stabs basically all over their bodies."

"Multiple substances in their body can be a sign of addiction, but also that our unsub drugged them to make them easier to drag around." Spencer continued. “Does the lab have the substances yet?”

“Garcia is working on it.” JJ replied.

"And the amount of cuts and bruises on their bodies mean that our unsub is angry. Like, uncontrollably angry." Emily finished.

"Well, he's killed both black and white women, so we know it's not race motivated." Rossi completed Emily's train of thought. "He's been getting more and more desperate, given the depths of the cuts as he progresses, look." He said, pointing to the picture of the last victim.

Emily gulped, shaking her head lightly.

“I’d say that, given the color of the bruises, they were beaten right before they died. This unsub doesn’t keep them for much longer. Most likely, he tortures them and kills them, getting rid of them in the dumpsters. The place of disposal is rather telling.” Spencer chimed in.

"Get Garcia to look up sex offenders in that area." Hotch said. "Try to find them all, no matter what their outcome was. Close, dropped... It doesn't matter. If the theory about social cleansing is right, maybe the offender has a past history with it. On the other hand, if he's rich, he probably got away with it."

"I'll call her right now." Morgan said with a nod.

"Great. tell the Richmond PD we're getting there in a couple of hours." Hotch announces. "Wheels up in thirty."

—

Arriving in the precinct, Hotchner assigned the tasks. Rossi and Morgan would go to the latest crime scene as Reid and Prentiss looked around for possible witnesses. JJ would stay at the precinct in case something came up.

"Check this out," called Rossi. "The... instrument was big enough to go through her body, from her stomach to her back." He said.

Morgan sighed. "Intensified violence means that he's not planning on stopping any time soon."

A couple feet away, agents Reid and Prentiss talked to one of the prostitutes. "We're always here, especially at night. Some girls are here during the daytime, but you know, it's slower. Nobody wants to be seen with us." She had bloodshot eyes, a defeated expression on her features. 

"Who are your usual... customers?" Reid asked, a little embarrassed to be talking to a woman who had that much expertise in a field he lacked any. A flash of worry and guilt crossed the young woman's face and she looked around as if making sure no one was listening to them.

"Don't worry, everything's classified. You're not gonna get in trouble if you talk to us. We're just trying to help." Emily said, trying to ease her nerves.

"Okay... I... The guys who work in the bank are often here. Cops, too. But they are very sneaky." She whispered, fright almost palpable in her voice.

"Did any of them ever pose a threat? Maybe too violent? Persistent?" The young doctor asked, again. She blinked at him, willing the tears not to fall.

"Most of them are just bored husbands or divorcees who want to get laid without the worry of being chased after." Looking away, she went on, "we’re the ones who can't afford to say no to the things they're into. We get the best of their roughness, so it's hard to tell." Emily gave her a sympathetic look.

From afar, you watched their interactions. The girl, whose name was Renée, looked very nervous and guilty. You approached them, looking a lot more skeptical than the emotional mess they were asking questions to. You took a look at them, took in the way they were dressed, besides the pens and notepads in their hands. The man took a second look at you, but you shrug it off, used to be perceived and not always in the best manner, given your appearance these days. “You ok, Renée?" You checked on her softly and she nodded in agreement. "Excuse me. Are you with the police?" You ask in a serene voice.

"Hi. I'm Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI," the dark haired woman answered, both of them showing you their badges. You nodded. "We're investigating the murder of women in this location."

Spencer looked at you as you inspected their faces. You wore casual clothes, nothing like the outfit Renée had on, and, for a moment, he thought what were you doing in there and how and why did you know her. It didn't make sense, albeit briefly, to him, why would someone so mundane be in that place, at that time. After a couple of seconds of watching you curiously, the pieces started falling into places, though. The crestfallen expression, dry skin and chapped lips... You were going through something.

He had a feeling he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what.

That is, until you actually started talking.

"Hello," you introduce yourself. "Oh, I see. I didn’t think the locals would be interested in solving these anyway."

“Why do you say that?” Emily asked, curious to know your answer.

“I suppose they don’t like the fact that some of us are so daring to the point of going to their station to report the abuse we all go through weekly,” you snorted, voice thick with disdain, although every person in the conversation was aware that it was not aimed at either of them, “like, why are we complaining? We want to do this, we are willingly here.” Emily sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that Spencer could muster up.

“Anyway…” you sniffled. A telling sign. “How can we help?”

"Have you seen anyone violent around here? A-a new face, perhaps?" He asked, turning his body to face you properly. Emily looked at him, puzzled.

"Doctor, with all due respect, they are men. And they are paying. It’s basically a green light for all sorts of abuse, I'm sure Renée told you that much." You answered, in a much more certain tone than your friend had used.

"Did either of you recall anything about that night? The most basic detail can help us.” Emily inquired.

"Yeah." Renée answered with a quiver of her lip, clinging to you, trying to find some solace. You squeezed her shoulder lightly, glancing at her.

Sensing she might not be able to talk, you went on, "I can't think of anything out of the ordinary that night. I didn't notice they were missing until the next day. We try our best to watch out for each other. As I said, some men can be real creeps, but once you start your own thing, it's… hard” you exhaled, “for some of us to keep track of what's going on around us. Unless we run into each other again, we won't know for sure if we're actually safe." You explained, looking down at your feet. After a couple deep breaths that felt like you were inhaling the oxygen of the entire Earth, you looked back at them. Still avoiding eye contact, glancing between their foreheads, something you'd learned to do in order to escape the person you were with when you needed to.

Spencer watched you the entire time.

“I see,” the woman said, taking some notes. “Would you know if they share anything in common?”

“They usually stay in the park at the end of the street,” Renée answered, “They go there once things quiet down, and guys pick them up in their cars. The night they were… um, taken, was pretty intense. If they got kidnapped, we couldn’t even give you a license plate. We weren’t around.” Her voice dripped with pure guilt. You ran your thumb on her shoulder.

At the moment, though, there's something else entirely on your mind. Eventually, after a beat of silence, you decide to speak your mind, to expose your insecurities. Not worried about how you may look. Hell, it's been a long time since you stopped. "I'm sorry to press or if I sound too demanding. I know sometimes things get out of your control, but, uh, you're gonna catch this guy, right? I mean... we have to be here. I hope you don't think we have another choice."

As you talked, your soft voice and pleading eyes drew Spencer's attention to you with even more intensity. Your voice and mannerisms weren't something he was expecting. He berated himself after realizing how he was in the wrong by assuming you’d portray yourself in a certain way because of the area you worked in. Your voice was low, but firm. Your words were understanding, but demanding. Your posture was almost defensive, but the desperation of your tone told them how terrified you were. He couldn't help but notice the fact that you were sniffing quite often. His profiling skills were faster than himself and he made the conclusion that, given the line of your work, he presumed it most likely wasn’t only a cold.

Spencer knew, then, that you shared something in common with him. Something bad.

Again, not something he wanted to know about.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer beat her to it, "We're gonna do the best we can, Miss."

"Glad to hear that," you muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Thanks for your time.” Emily said, a gentle smile on her face.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as you and René left, walking arm in arm. In a safe distance from everyone else, he saw as your friend broke down in your arms and as you comforted her, even if you had your own tears streaming down your face. He had reached Morgan and Rossi when you two walked away. Emily studied his face attentively, wondering why he was so fast to assure a possible victim like that, because, one, it was unlike him to want to partake in such sensitive conversations with the ones involved in the process. Two, what kind of agent, doctor, official, profiler, whatever, makes promises before such an intricate process such as their work?

“So, did you get anything?” Rossi asked him, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Oh, yeah. Those two women said that the victims usually waited for clients in the park right down the street.” Emily said.

“I think we should go take a look.” Spencer suggested.

Searching the park, which was full of passersby and families just spending some time outside their houses, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that this case had already hit him too close to home. The violence was something that still messed with his head and he thought he could never recover from the flashes of memories behind his eyelids once he closed his eyes to sleep every night. Still, it wasn’t that that baffled him the most, but you. He knew what it was like to struggle with addiction. He had been very harsh on Emily not long ago, during a withdrawal, so he knew aggressiveness and mood swings were to be expected. You and your mannerisms, however, were totally out of the addiction bingo. The way you looked, so broken, so sick, in every sense of the word, didn’t stop you from having a polite conversation with them, even if the topic was very much concerning to you. Plus, the caring nature you seemed to have and the way you made sure to be supportive towards you and the others who, just like you, went through hell every day for the most unspeakable reasons stood out to him.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“Hey, I got something.” Morgan said as he approached the team with a piece of paper. “It says: They will not do it again.”

“Who’s they?” Rossi inquired.

“Maybe the prostitutes. The only way of stopping them is killing them.” Spencer answered, albeit his thoughts were still far, far away from the scene.

“But stop them from doing what? Causing a divorce? Being a homewrecker? Polluting the city?” She wondered out loud.

“These are all valid possibilities,” Rossi nodded, “we now know from your interview that rich men are regulars here. Maybe one of them was unfaithful and snapped after getting his divorce. Now, he might be taking it out on these girls.” He finished.

“We still need to figure that out.” Morgan sighed. “Hey, babygirl, we need a favor,” Derek said once Penelope picked up his call. “Can you check every upper-class man in Richmond that has recently gotten a divorce?”

“Sure thing, handsome,” she quipped, “it might take some time, though. And I know you’ll need to narrow it down.”

“We’ll keep you posted. Thanks, babygirl.”

“Always happy to help, hot stuff.”

—

Back at the station, the BAU team was surrounded by cops, sharing their findings so far. Spencer was the one to make sure that the cops would be on duty and laser focused on the areas he determined through the geographical profile. Those areas were most likely the ones the next attack would take place. He emphasized, very intently, that they needed cops especially in darker alleys and that they were looking for a male in his thirties. 

Spencer couldn't shake the thought of dread that crept up on him, making him almost paralyzed. The fear of getting to the unsub, of letting him get away, of being too late, of being too early, of not being enough. Every scenario was the worst, his mind working overtime to make sure he had at least an ounce of optimism for months on end, ever since he finally managed to stay clean off Dilaudid. The cops moved around, divided between groups to start surveillance. And the dread kept building inside of him, like a crescendo of horror.

Sitting next to Emily, he decided to break the morbid silence hanging over them. “I'm sorry I lashed out on you, Emily. I don't think I ever apologized.”

Totally not expecting his words, she looked at him, wide-eyed. It took her a second to gather her thoughts and form an answer. “It's no problem. I know what you were going through.”

“Still. It doesn't change much. It's not a good enough excuse for me to treat others poorly.” He couldn't look at her, fiddling with his fingers instead.

“Reid, why do I sense you're talking about something else?”

He sighed. He was so, so tired of keeping it in, of bottling everything in, of swallowing his words so as to not make anyone uncomfortable. “I am.” He confessed, after a moment of silence.

Maybe staying quiet was less morbid than the conversation they were about to have, he mused.

“What happened?”

“That girl, today. The second one. I could tell she's having issues. The same as me, I mean. And she was so nice the entire time. She was trying to make her friend feel better.”

“Spencer…” Emily breathed out, a somewhat reprimanding look on her face. Not that he could see it. “This comparison is unfair on so many levels. First, you've seen her for what? Five minutes? We don't know what she's been through, if she has a family… There are so many possibilities. Maybe she was having a good day—”

“How does one have a good day knowing that they have very high chances of being killed?” He interrupted. A sigh left Emily's lips.

“I don't know. But you do understand why that comparison you made was unfitting, to say the least, right?” 

Right on cue, to make the subject die, he muttered a “I guess.” so she could drop the subject. From afar, Spencer watched as you left a building with a glare on your face. He wondered what you were feeling and if your expression always told you off.

“There she is. Not looking happy.” Emily said, simply, not relating it to the use of any substances out of respect. She could only imagine what he was going through, being forced to watch someone she loves slowly lose themselves over something so trivial, but at the same time, dangerous as a substance.

Spencer pressed his lips on a thin line.

—

You laid there, on a big, albeit uncomfortable bed, simply enduring the sloppy, much erratic thrusts of a man who was old enough to be your dad. Grandfather, if you pushed it a little bit. Internally, you chuckled bitterly at the thought, because those two decided to want distance from you a long, long time ago. You had turned out into a person who many people didn't want to be associated with, so you kind of understood their attitude towards you. Still, it didn't make navigating through this world all by yourself any easier. In fact, it stung harder than you cared to admit, but, for the most part of the time, you were as high as a kite — your coping mechanism to shield your brain for reminiscing about the disgusting, vile man that you had to... satisfy to avoid starving to death. It was a never ending cycle. A torturous one that you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy.

Speaking of which, the man above you came on your stomach, meaning that the appointment had finally reached its end. You couldn't quite pinpoint if he was the first, second or even third man you've encountered that night, but you didn't care. The effects of the dope made sure you wouldn't remember them the next day. Actually, it had been a while since you had been exposed to daylight. Your routine consisted of being around all night with those men, getting home, scrubbing your skin hard enough to draw blood as you showered, trying to get rid of the feeling of the greedy, disgusting hands all over your body, sleeping all day, getting high and repeating it all over again. Some nights you didn’t have too much strength to do it all. Some days felt like they mashed together with how long it felt with the same ache, the same hole in your chest. Your life was miserable, and you often caught yourself thinking if it was worth it. And, if it was, what for?

"You're so good, princess, kept quiet all the time and shit." The man said as he pulled his shirt back on, covering his thin frame. You cleaned yourself the best you could with a washcloth. "You’re fairly pretty… If you weren't a junkie, I might take you home with me... keep you all to myself, you know?" He inquired, a smirk dancing around his features.

You didn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, you glared at him, even though he couldn't see your face, grabbed the money that had been placed in the nightstand and made a beeline to the door.

You stared at that money with burning rage. If you didn't need it so much, you would definitely tear it apart given the hatred coursing through your veins. You gulped, and it tasted bitter, and it was hard to swallow the lump in your throat. You sold yourself for something as ordinary as money, and it made you so angry because your family was swimming in it. Sometimes, you wished they would drown in it, just to see if your anger simmered down.

You weren't always like this, so... so rotten. Coming from a rich, traditional family, people expected highly from you all the time, thus, you had been an excellent, straight A's student, being the valedictorian of your class at a traditional Catholic school without your teachers needing to double check any records. You also volunteered halftime in an institute that helped old people, which made your parents immensely proud. At that time, you had gotten yourself a boyfriend, your high-school sweetheart, getting engaged to him as you started your third year at a great university, majoring in Psychology. It all went down, though, when you started struggling with addiction.

It started with lighter substances, like alcohol. You drank until you started mumbling out the words you meant to say, going even as far as embarrassing yourself and your fiancée multiple times at social gatherings that involved booze. You loved the thrill, the buzz, the lightness it made you feel, instead of the pile of anxiety that built and seeped into your very bones after being so pushed to the edge your entire life. You thought you liked your life, but after being in touch with people who had a much (what you considered to be) easier life than yours, you started to let loose. Since you didn't have any family around you to put you on a tight leash, you lost control altogether.

When your family realized what had happened, too engrossed in their own businesses and investments and money and anything that was more important than their offsprings, it was too late. You couldn't go a day without drinking, dropping out of schoolcALT without thinking about the consequences for your future. Ironically, you knew and understood pretty well the things you were going through, but battling an addiction requires a lot of strength that you didn't know where to find, since you were all alone. After all, you had pushed all your friends away, your fiancée had walked out on you and your family basically disowned you.

Left to your own devices and unable to keep a steady, serious job, despite your background, you found yourself in the streets.

Sigh.

Opening the door to your small apartment, you got rid of the clothes that began to reek of alcohol, throwing them mindlessly on the floor. You rushed to the bathroom and stared at your own reflection for a moment, noticing the dark spots under your eyes, your dry lips and the lifeless gaze that your eyes had turned into. You had lost quite a bit of weight, now looking like a dead skull, wandering around, doomed to search for any reason to continue living in a world that had been pitch black.

In the bathtub, you scratched your skin aggressively, not being able to avoid the feeling of the remnants of several unknown men, which sensation brought up the comparison that you felt similar to a person who suffers with phantom limb pain: you couldn't see their hands, you couldn't come up with anyone's face, but you couldn't avoid sensing their touch on your skin. But, unlike the syndrome, you didn't feel pain, feeling rather like needles were seeping into your skin, deep enough to reach your bones. But, like the syndrome, it felt like it was yours. Their touch, although invisible, was forever inked into your skin.

You couldn't help the tears running down your face, mixing themselves with the water that poured from the shower. Tears of both pain, disgust, desperation, regret. It was a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn't deal with. As you left the bathroom, you downed half a bottle of vodka, hoping that it would lull you to sleep.

Maybe for good this time.

—

A loud banging on your door roused you from sleep. Your mouth felt dry and your skin felt even worse — it felt like it had been days since you last drank water. Maybe it was true. The loud noise made your head throb in pain. Curled in bed, you tried to muffle the sounds by covering your ears with your hands, but it was just as annoying. The person on the other side of the door seemed hell-bent on seeing you, but you couldn't come up with anyone other than your landlord, because your rent was supposed to be paid yesterday.

Getting up from your bed with a groan of annoyance and pain, you threw on a flannel you found on the floor. Opening the door, you were surprised to see your older brother.

"Y-you?" You asked, baffled. Embarrassed by your own appearance.

"It's me." He said, the usual serious edge to his voice. He said your name, hesitantly. "Can I come in?"

You didn't know what he wanted. The fact that you had been left alone for so long made your heart burn with anger and you wanted to slam the door in his face. You considered it for a moment, but it wouldn't take a genius to know that you needed someone with you, even if for just a couple of minutes, even if it was out of pity. You didn't mind. You relied on the kindness of people to get by, so what harm would it be in accepting a little more pity? More self loathing than you already had and constantly feeded inside you? You judged it impossible.

With a curt nod, you gave him space to enter your apartment. The place was a mess, clothes scattered around, curtains drawn closed, the darkness in the room not only caused by the absence of sunlight. Something somber stopped light from entering. Your brother looked around with an unreadable expression and saw the countless bottles everywhere, from the floor to the couch, not to mention the many white remains on the surfaces like the small coffee table. He blinked away tears, desolate to see you in that position. Desperate to find words. Desperate to find you again in that vessel of a human you had become.

Clearing his throat, “I… heard what's happening. I was worried so I came all the way here to check on you.”

You bit back a bitter laughter. How could someone be this cruel? Abandon you and then treat you like you mattered? It made you almost want to throw up. “I'm alive. Happy?” You couldn't help the snarky remark.

“Come on, you know I'm not like them.” He defended, not able to look you in the eye.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “If you weren't, you wouldn't have left me, too.”

“Come on, I was going through my own shit, I didn't realize what you were going through until it was too late.”

“Too late? Too late? I spent all my days wishing any of you would pick up the damn phone so that someone could come and get me before I was dead. But you're all the same. So self absorbed, so selfish, so… individualistic.” Your words were daggers, but you couldn't stop yourself from being mean, from trying to push away the only person who seemingly had an interest in helping you. Too bad you felt it was a little too late.

“Don't say that.”

At this point, the verbal vomiting was unstoppable. You sure looked like a maniac, rambling and jumping inconsistently from one topic to another, aiming to hurt him as much as they have hurt you, too. You knew what you were doing, but it felt for a moment that something else was forcing such cruelness out of your mouth. “The final blow was grandma dying, right? So you could finally pretend I don't exist. Keep doing that.”

“Let me help you.” He pleaded, coming close to you.

“I don't need your help.”

“If you don't accept it now, you're gonna spend more time wishing you had.” He said, holding your hands with his own.

“How are you going to help me? By sending me money so that I spend it all on drugs? On booze? Hah, nice one, really.”

“I wouldn't help you kill yourself.” He almost shouted, rage and sadness fighting over which would be the dominant feeling in his eyes.

“Then how? I basically just told you I'm helpless. I'm a ghost. I stopped existing a long time ago.” A sob broke through you, echoing in the walls of your dark apartment. You shut your eyes. “I don't know who I am anymore.”

Silence.

He's probably thinking everything through. Trying to find a way to let me down gently, you thought. “Let me take you somewhere safe. We'll see how it goes.”

You didn't expect that much. Despite wanting to say yes, your mouth was seemingly disconnected from your brain, so your words took a whole different turn. Instead of accepting his help, you simply stated, “I don't think I would stand to let you down again. I'm sorry.” He looks at you, bewildered, but, to you, not strong enough to put up a fight. “Can you please leave? I'm waiting for a friend.”

Defeated, he walks out the door. 

You don't notice the paper with his number left on the kitchen counter. When Renée shows up, dressed in a skin-tight red dress, she sees and runs her finger on the note as if it could save her from every single risk her life could show her. 

—

"We found another body."

Amidst the research and data analysis required to provide the profile, Spencer Reid got easily lost on his obligations and far too focused on his duties in order to help people as fast as he could, which was why he was seemingly terrified of one of the local officer's voice. 

At the crime scene, the found body was once Renée Woods. Spencer watched from afar as the coroner  examined their body and as Derek and Emily searched frantically for anything they could do to help, whether it was examining the crime scene or simply talking to the assigned legists. Spencer, unlike them, stood still. Muscles unable to make any movements besides clenching his hands in fists so tight that his somewhat long nails almost cut through the sensitive skin.

How would you take the news?

What if that was you?

The thought went as quickly as it came, because, from afar, he watched as you showed up, looking skeptical, but soon becoming hysterical once you recognized her, even from a certain distance. You could tell it was her by the clothes she was wearing. You cried hysterically, screaming as if someone had torn apart your heart with their bare hands, sobbing as if you couldn't breathe unless Renée was walking the Earth. A cop touching you, instead of soothing your turmoil, only served as a fuel to the fire raging through you. Sadness, anger, desperation, panic, everything flooding your chest, ragging your breath. You pushed the man away, trying to find a way to enter the crime scene.

Spencer finally was taking control of his body again. Approaching you, calmly, as if you would attack him too if he got too close and too abruptly, or worse, you’d run away, he made his way to you. Noticing your red-rimmed eyes, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d do your best,” you said in a broken voice, looking him in the eye. Defeated.

Silence. All the noise seemed dull, distant, far away. You were in a bubble.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wide eyes looking at his confused ones. Right now, talking to you felt like whiplash. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to accuse or blame you. Fuck,” you cursed, bringing your hands to your eyes. “Can I do anything to help? I can… I can try.”

Unbeknownst to you, Emily Prentiss watched your interactions with a puzzled look on her face. You looked and acted so distraught that she felt the need to approach, mindful of the damage the words from an enraged, saddened close friend of a victim would do. Unable to stop her own feet, she approached you. Spencer wouldn't utter a word. You looked nervous, looking from her to him and obsessively trying to wipe your tears that seemingly had their own will to run on your face.

"Can you come with me?" She offered, handing out a blanket for you. You looked at her and amidst the mixed feelings that the grief started etching into your eyes, you could give her a grateful glance.

By her side, you looked at Spencer, who was still frozen in place.

"I'm sorry..." You whispered, looking at the ground.  

He looked straight ahead. Once you were with Emily, he glanced your way with a pitiful look on his face.

—

Days passed. You were in the precinct once they called Renée’s family to break the morbid news. You watched as her mother fell to her knees once one of them told her what had happened to her daughter. You heard the chanting of "I failed, I failed, I failed..." endlessly. And by endlessly, you mean it is still haunting you to this day.

For three days, all you did was escape reality, whether by sleeping or doing drugs. Your brother's contact sat still on the kitchen counter, collecting dust and meaning hesitation from your end.

On the fourth day, you were sober for a couple of hours. You opened the curtains and despite the darkness still loomed around, it felt better. It burned, but in a nice way. As you stared at the note in the counter, untouched, Emily Prentiss knocked on your door to let you know that they were close to catching the killer. His profile was complete, it seemed. Something about a man in his 40s taking out the frustration of his parents’ broken marriage because of his father’s infidelity and his own divorce because of his affairs. Cyclic. Looking at your wrecked state, she told you all about him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked as Renée’s mother chant still echoed in your mind.

"First, I thought you needed hope. Second, I was thinking you might recognize him.”

Needless to say, she was right. Your lungs burned at each breath you took, and, in that moment, you decided you would try to be strong. Stronger. Renée’s face came to mind. You had nothing left to lose if you exposed a few rich men. Thanking Emily, you said softly, your tone contrasting with the vile nature of your words, “You said he dumped the girls in a specific place, right?” She nodded. “I don’t know if anyone told you about this one place, but they take some of the girls there. It’s kind of off-radar” 

As you gave her the location, her surprise betrayed her usual composure. “No, nobody did.”

“Do you think it could be helpful?”

—

You found yourself in one of aforementioned building’s room along with Dr. Spencer Reid, as sort of your protector, while the others patrolled the building and the people who came and went, and the local cops lurked around downtown, in the park. You felt nervous, reminiscing about your last interaction with the man. Taking a deep breath, you sat down on a chair. “May I ask you something?” You inquired, carefully. He hadn’t talked much to you unless it was information about what you knew and what he needed to know. He nodded at you, turning his attention to your figure. "Do you like your job? I only ask because... you know... nobody really likes this job."

"... I do, yeah." He muttered, albeit not the whole truth. It was gruesome, but he thought he could manage. Besides, you didn’t need to be exposed to even more disaster. It was bad enough as it was.

"I don’t know if you know or acknowledge this, but not many people choose to do this. It's more of a last option, the one you really don't wanna take." You justified, even though you didn’t quite know why.

You supposed it was the embarrassment that came with being with a man who knew what you did but wasn’t with you to do that.

Understanding flooded his features, a soft "I understand." making its way out of his lips.

"Thanks." I say with a tight-lipped smile. "It means a lot."

He nodded. "You keep fiddling with your necklace."

"It's a locker, actually. It's a picture of me and my grandmother. I don't wear it when I'm.. um... Anyway, it's kinda sacred to me." You chuckled, gripping the accessory tighter. “I wore it today so that it would give me the strength needed to help Renée. And myself.”

He glances at you as if he wanted to know more. After a beat of silence and deciding that it was enough, "Do you have a good relationship with her?"

"I did. We were very close, but she passed away last year, sort of giving my family the free pass to cut me out entirely. I believe they think that I was the one who killed her, my life choices and whatnot."

He furrowed his brows. "You didn't choose this."

"In a way, I did. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't stop. It's just that... It felt good not to have so much pressure on me, you know? I felt finally free... but what did it cost me? A safe relationship, my education, my family and friends… They never gave me a chance, not even to explain myself. I needed help. Thus far, I have had company my entire life. I didn't know how to exist. Then one of those girls helped me, but I realized that she was struggling to pay rent and I needed to do something, not just sit pretty and be high with the money I had left.”

His silence was unexpected.

In reality, it was caused by the cliché of watching your life passing before your eyes took over his mind. He remembered being drugged by Tobias Hankel, he remembered the needles puncturing his skin and the relief he felt from the entire situation once the substance started running through his veins. He remembered taking Dilaudid from his abductor’s pockets and he remembered staring at his own reflection in the mirror and finding a stranger looking back at him. He remembered being given a chip of sobriety even though he wasn’t sober for that long. He remembered thinking of himself as unworthy as he became more and more dependent, especially when he couldn’t even disguise how affected, how it changed him. Looking at your defeated face, he muttered, “I understand. It changes your perception of things and yourself.”

You could act oblivious and assume that his knowledge of the topic came from books, but you don’t see that expression on just anybody’s face. You felt sorry for him. Sensing he didn’t want to talk about himself any further, even if, in your opinion, wasn’t nearly enough for someone who had battled something as deep as an addiction, you decided to respect his wish. You talked about yourself instead, hoping to give him something, someone to relate to, as you desperately wanted for yourself. “I wasn’t always like this.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” His voice held that tinge of something you couldn’t quite describe, something distant, but so close at the same time. He saw himself in you, almost if he was talking to himself.

He might have had Penelope check your background. Something about the lost potential resonated deep within him, and it made him all the more anxious to be close to you, to repair something he hadn’t been the one to break. As he looked at you, all he could see was someone in dire need of something, someone to grasp onto. “How does one manage to move past all that?"

Despite the will growing and boiling inside of him, he couldn’t just come up with a magic solution to cut through the darkness surrounding you. "Honestly, I don't know." You couldn’t see when he gulped.

"It's a long way from home. At least, for me."

For a moment, you looked at each other, mouths shut, not a single beat of sound around you. You looked at him, searching for answers and for someone to relate to. Spencer hesitated for a moment, the silence hanging over you like a fog. He wasn't trying to seem disinterested or unkind, but he felt as if his curt phrases weren’t enough to calm your heart. He spoke again, his voice softer, offering a hint of deeper sincerity, "Sorry, I..." he trailed off, unsure how to convey his thoughts without making the situation more hurtful. "I'm sure you can manage it with the right people."

Your grip on your locket softened, letting it fall close to your chest once you let it go. Looking at him, a soft melody started playing in your head.

Patience.

“I’m sorry,” you said, earnestly, which made him look at you with recognition. “Thanks for talking to me. It’s been a while.” 

I missed this feeling.

—

After a few moments, the BAU team had captured the man before he could collect another soul. Everything happened so fast. In one moment, you were in a superficially verbal conversation with Spencer. Despite the shallow nature of the words exchanged, digging deeper, the interaction was filled to the brim with meaning, which made you rethink a thing or two. You shared that much with him.

“Goodbye.” He said, simply. To you, he was not one to speak much. “You’ll be home by spring.” I can’t wait ‘til then, he thought.

“Goodbye, doctor.”

Next thing you knew, as you got home, all by yourself, you decided to reach out for your brother. Telling him you needed help, that you were pessimistic but that it would be foolish not to at least try.

Days at rehab went on as smoothly as they could, considering you were suffering with withdrawal. Your behavior and emotions swayed like waves on a lake surface on a windy day. Deeply unstable, your mind was forced to remember all the hell you’ve been through on a daily basis for the last sad months of your life. Grieving for the version of you you could have been, for Renée, for your sense of self, self-respect and whatever you had lost during those dark times. Often, your hands trembled, you felt cold in a warm, cozy room and there were times your skin felt ablaze, not to mention the whirlwind of thoughts that made your head hurt. You missed feeling numb.

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you.

Still, there were afternoons that you would sit on the porch of your bedroom and simply take in the surroundings. The green grass that was taken better off by the employees like it was someone’s first born. The other patients who walked around and closed their eyes as they felt the sun kissing their skin for what it felt like the first time in years. The trees that casted shadows on the grass so that some of them could lay beneath them. The breeze that engulfed your figure and gently touched you, unlike you had been treated. The immense sense of belonging to this existence, of not longer being a stranger to your own life. You would take deep breaths and your lungs wouldn’t ache like before. You pictured the two reasons responsible for making you take the decision that brought you to this place sitting next to you. You held what was left of one of them between your fingertips.

The sudden and constant mood swings made your attitude change at breakneck speed.

Tonight, taking a quick break from the notebook you were scribbling on, you took a look around you. At that moment, everything around you was spinning. You couldn’t breathe, feeling as if the hands that touched you in the past stopped you from inhaling oxygen altogether. You shut your eyes closed and tried to breathe in like the doctors had told you to when things got too hard — it was not working. Panicking further, you stumbled your way to the ensuite bathroom and took a good look at your reflection. You felt shivers running down your body, an uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach as you desperately tried to turn on the faucet to splash some cold water to your face. Unsuccessful, to say the least.

The feeling grew as time went by. You couldn’t stand the discomfort and the memories and the feeling of being inappropriate to go back to living in the real world again. For a moment, you quieted your struggle. You gave in. You glanced at the mirror and although the tears blurred your vision, you were able to wonder if that was your opportunity of finally having the control of your life back. Maybe it was for the better, you thought as you reached for the small blade you secretly kept on the bathroom window. As you started feeling dizzy by the lack of oxygen, you couldn’t help but to think back to the interaction you exchanged with Spencer before you thought of accepting your brother’s offer. Picturing his face, of himself as a person and as a professional, you thought that, for a moment, he was a reflection of all that you wanted to be, all you wanted for yourself.

The blood that gushed from the open cuts of your arms, that drained from your body, felt like the catharsis you needed from all the mishaps that had taken place in your life. As you watched it dribble down your skin and as it stained the floor, you took a deep, difficult breath, feeling lightheaded. No thoughts swarmed your mind anymore. A sob, from both the dull sting of the cuts and of your difficulty breathing, echoed through the bathroom.

No!, you thought you heard a familiar voice scream.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you.

Finally taking short puffs of breaths, you kept thinking this was it. That it was for the better. That nothing could save you, nothing could stop the blood from cleansing you and taint the floor in the process. You finally shut your eyes as the tears never ceased to flow from your eyes, feeling hands squeezing your arms where you had drawn vertical lines with the blades. From that moment, everything around you felt mixed, the swaying of a vehicle, the alarmed voices, the brightness behind your eyelids. You never opened your eyes. You couldn't bear to open them and still be here, facing the people who were doing their best to help you.

As you lost consciousness, you finally found peace, your mind finally quieted down, the hands stopped touching your body. You thought you managed a weakened smile in your state.

;

Spencer, much like you, didn't keep much track of the time as it passed, for the things in his world happened too fast and burned too bright. As he approached his desk in the bullpen and he was reading through some emails, dread adorning his features and panic setting in the pit of his stomach as he read your brother's name on the screen — whose contact he had gotten after you were admitted in rehab — and the news he was sharing.

;

You didn't know how much time you had spent unconscious. You didn't have any dreams. You didn't have any thoughts. You were completely numb, as if you were surrounded by a bubble that protected you from anything that could possibly happen.

As you opened your eyes, you recognized a hospital room, wires and needles and the unmistakable smell of that place. Looking at your arms, you noticed the bandages that hid the scars that were certainly forming by now, if the dull ache was anything to go by. When you slowly felt reality creeping in, you didn't dare to look up, afraid to find a judgmental or angry look on someone's face. You focused solely on breathing, too frightened of your surroundings.

You gulped and your throat felt so dry that it almost scratched, which made you erupt in a fit of coughs. That drew the attention of a person sitting right next to you, which you hadn't noticed, too preoccupied with someone's reaction.

Slowly looking up, you found Dr. Reid’s face. You couldn't quite begin to read his expression, as his eyes were full of relief once he saw you were still alive. Hanging by a thread, but still alive. You didn't bother to speak after he silently held a bottle of water with a straw on it for you to drink. Neither did he. At least for some amount of time.

“I didn't know how bad this could get. I mean, I do know, but not because of the reason you probably think. It's not just because I have to study human behavior, but also because I was abducted and drugged,” he started, losing the bravery that it took to look you in the eye. “I know you have nothing to do with this. And that it makes me sound very selfish, because, um, I'm here talking about myself when you are so fragile and so broken, but it's just because I know what you're going through. I know what it's like to not recognize yourself. When we talked in that room, for the first time, I felt alive. I felt seen. I felt like I had finally found a little, small, fleeting piece of myself that had wandered too far once I was… addicted.”

You just took in his words. You already knew why he related to you so much, but hearing him talk so freely and unabashedly about his experience made you somewhat perk up. “I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?” You managed to mutter in a weak voice.

“It depends on what you think you're going to do now.” 

“It's a lot of work.”

“Not if it's you.”

“How could you possibly say that?”

“I know a little about your background. My friend looked you up. You looked promising.”

“Yes, past tense. Now I'm just this… vessel of a human. I don't think I have blood, let alone the guts to face the world after this.”

“I'm not calculating your worth on your accomplishments or on the person you used to be.” He sighed, softly.

“Do I even still have worth?”

“Of course you do.”

“Don't waste your breath on me. How could you be so sure?”

“I just do.”

Little did you know, Spencer Reid was not one to pry where it wasn't welcome, but he spent every day letting his mind run to you. He couldn't help but think about you and whether you were actually doing good after the decision you decided to share with him. That was how he found himself having some unsent letters that were soon ripped and thrown away. Telling you about him, wondering about you, wondering if you two could relate on different topics.

“Would it be weird to ask you to trust me on this one?”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

For the first time in years, you had a sincere smile on your face. 

—

The next day, you woke up to a letter addressed to you, which you knew who it was from. 

Your lifeline.

This pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

☆

Part 2

[maxdibert]

Pretty messed up how some people are fans of a creepy and obsessive guy who didn’t care if a man and a child died just so he could get the girl.

Alright, let's break this down, anon, because there's a lot to unpack here.

I think I've mentioned this in several posts already, but I'll repeat it: Severus owed James Potter NOTHING—no compassion, no empathy, no mercy. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. James Potter was a rich, popular brat who abused his social and economic capital to torment a poor, unsupported boy for seven years just because he didn't like him from the moment they met on the train to Hogwarts, and from that moment on, he had it in for him. He was a terrible bully who used his friends to join in on that nasty bullying. So if Snape didn’t care that he died, well, Snape had every right to feel that way. Do you go to victims of domestic violence and tell them they should feel sorry for their abusers? No, right? Well, this is the same thing. James was an abuser, Severus was his victim. Severus did more than enough by not telling Voldemort to torture him to death with Cruciatus, because I would have. Honestly, I don't understand why Snaters always bring up the whole "James was dead and Snape walked over his body" as if it were some horrible thing when, hello! You're talking about an ABUSER being dead, mate. Of course, he walked right over his body—what surprises me is that he didn’t throw a party.

Harry had to die. I know this sounds terrible, but it’s basically what the prophecy indicated. He was a target that Voldemort wasn’t going to let slip away, his fate was sealed. And yes, it’s unethical. And yes, it’s immoral. But the truth is that wars are unethical and highly immoral, and horrible, monstrous decisions are often made. Harry was not an option—asking for mercy for him was pointless because there wasn’t going to be any.

I don’t think Severus ever believed that if James was out of the picture, Lily would go to him or anything like that. I mean, they hadn’t spoken for five years—about six by that time. Severus NEVER harassed or stalked Lily. The only time he went after her was when the whole SWM incident happened, and he tried to apologise. Once she made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, Severus respected her decision, and as far as we know from canon, they never interacted again. So, I don’t think, after six years of not talking, with his supposed former best friend having married and had a child with his personal bully, Severus had many expectations of them ending up in any sort of romantic relationship. I think, quite simply, that Lily always represented the only good part of his childhood—the only happy memories, the only moments of peace amidst the hellish violence he endured at home. I believe this was crucial for someone like him, whose childhood and teenage years were marked by violence, and he wasn’t willing to let the one good thing in his life end up murdered.

I agree that Severus is highly obsessive, but haters tend to frame this in a derogatory way, referring to his "obsession" with Lily, and I think it needs some clarification. Yes, Severus is obsessive, and he’s terribly immature at times, and he overreacts enormously when confronted with something that really triggers him (just look at how quickly he loses his temper with Sirius, for instance). This is obviously because he’s someone who never had the opportunity to grow up normally or develop cognitively as he should have, because his whole life was marked by violence. His home life was violent, and at school, he endured violence, and then at 20 years old, he handed his soul over to Dumbledore’s cause and had to work for nearly two decades at a school that was the epicentre of many of his traumas. He literally had neither the spaces nor the environments needed to heal and grow into a functional adult, and you can clearly see this in his behaviour. I’ve always said Severus is more of a diva than the cold, mysterious character people often make him out to be in fanon. To me, he’s someone who, on a personal level, hasn’t been able to grow emotionally in a healthy way and doesn’t know how to manage certain situations, especially those tied to his emotional issues. That said, I also don’t think he was romantically and/or sexually obsessed with Lily. I do think he loved her or was infatuated with her in his youth—first love, crush, whatever. But I don’t believe his need to avenge her death was due to romantic or obsessive love. I think it’s more about his obsession with repaying his debt to her. Severus always felt partially responsible for Lily’s death, and that’s where his obsession lies: it’s not that he’s obsessed with her, per se, but with the fact that he feels guilty for what happened. He feels, in some way, responsible for the death of the one person who showed him kindness, affection, and care during his childhood, which made her the most important person in his life at one point. And guilt often leads to obsession, much like grief that is not properly processed, and I don’t think that kind of obsession is creepy. I think it’s a very human kind of obsession.

Lastly, I don’t find Severus creepy at all. Why is he creepy? I mean, Harry was running around with his invisibility cloak, spying on everyone. The Marauders had A BLOODY MAP that allowed them to track everyone at Hogwarts 24/7 like some kind of magical GPS. Is Severus really the creepy one here? There are literally Animagi who turn into animals to spy on people—I have to laugh at the whole creepy argument.

That being said, if you’re going to come into my DMs to complain about Severus, at least bring some convincing arguments because it’s a bit tiresome hearing the same nonsense over and over again.

[allfortheslay25]

Pls loredump Abt ur new all for the war au

THE MOMENT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!!

everyone keep up it’s a doozy☝️

TW: mentions of abuse, torture, human trafficking, assault, murder, and lots of violence ⚠️

Some facts to keep in mind: Based on a draft for a novel I am working on, despite Milo being in this AU it is not 100% based on the Milo fic and has some changes to adhere to my novel, this novel is fantasy with light magic aspects and more godly mythology aspects (so not everyone can do magic cuz it’s more like witchcraft or godly blessings/curses), Neil is sort of intersex (or at least a version of it in this fantasy world) This also isn’t the full story, I left some stuff out because I don’t think I can get through every microscopic detail

The war started when Palmetto country was harassed for the last time. The Moriyamas had sent another army to pass through, use their resources, and bully their citizens. So Palmetto decided enough was enough and declared war. It was Kayleigh Day that accepted and decided to fight back (otherwise the Moriyamas would have closed their boarders and just ignored Palmetto)

David Wymack was in charge of the Palmetto army and fought a long and hard battle against Kayleigh and the Moriyamas defenses. Eventually, they’d met in person and become frenemies. Kayleigh was pregnant with Kevin and after many interactions and conversations with Wymack, decided the war wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want Kevin to grow up surrounded by meaningless bloodshed.

The Moriyamas did not stand for her decision. She started this, she has to end it. They tasked Tetsuji, her closest friend and family, to kill her. Tetsuji did so and raised Kevin as one of his own (alongside Riko) Kevin was told his mother was assassinated by the other side and her war is now his.

So Kevin trained hard, studied war and battle strategy, and worked to finish what his mother started.

Along his journey to becoming the ‘hero’ the Moriyama empire needed, he trained alongside Riko who he considered a brother, and was given two friends; Nathaniel, a young boy belonging to a war driven family aka the House of Slaughter who were well known battle strategists, and later Jean, a teen belonging to a wealthy family aka the House of Pride who were known to own lots of ships and traveling resources.

Nathaniel was always promised to Tetsuji’s unit since his birth. Riko let Kevin have him so Kevin could make a warrior out of him. And, after all, what’s Kevin’s is Riko’s and what’s Riko’s is always Riko’s.

Jean was betrothed to Kevin when he’d completed his first mission. Kevin assumed it’s what Jean wanted since the Moreau family has always been stuck up about letting other families marry into theirs. Their children are picky and if Jean was his fiancé, it had to mean Jean chose him. But Kevin was oblivious to how little Jean mattered to his family.

Nathaniel grew up with Kevin as a brother figure and a mentor. They trained and studied together and snuck away with Riko and Jean to get into childish shenanigans. But every weekend, Nathaniel would need to go home for Wesninski family training where they’d torture him. It was meant to train Nathaniel in interrogation, both how to survive one and how to conduct one. On his first day back, the Moriyamas would hurt him so that he wouldn’t forget to fear them too. Kevin was just as obvious to this and assumed Nathaniel was just very weak and prone to injury.

Eventually, when Nathaniel was 13, he and Kevin got into a fight about how distracted Nathaniel had been these days. He’d kept sneaking off to hang out with some secret friends of his or to follow Riko around. Kevin assumed Nathaniel was purposely getting sloppy and tore into him. Nathaniel had definitely been getting away with those other soldiers, content to let them treat him to food and (appropriate)entertainment in the town. It was an escape from Kevin’s pressure on him and Riko’s abuse behind closed doors (which is why Nathaniel was often following him around)

Kevin said some things he didn’t mean and told Nathaniel to be at the training grounds for night practice or else. Nathaniel left to hang out with the soldiers so he could vent about Kevin’s attitude. He meant to show up for night practice but the soldiers had held him hostage and assaulted him until morning.

Nathaniel had Wesninski training the next day and was gone for two days and an extra day with the Moriyamas abuse. Before he could attempt to go to Kevin, Riko had locked him in his room as punishment for not seeing Riko before he left. When he was finally let out before the next week started, Kevin had to be fuming.

Nathaniel went to Kevin to explain or make up for his absence but running into Riko reminded him that even if he reported it, the soldiers wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist. Nathaniel was property and if Riko didn’t care that they’d touched him, neither would any other Moriyama. So he showed up to the training grounds to lie about his whereabouts and it set Kevin off.

Kevin laid into him about his sloppiness and hit Nathaniel where it hurts. Kevin decided he had enough and Nathaniel wasn’t cut out to be a soldier so he quit as his mentor. Nathaniel of course had argued back and twisted the knife (metaphorical) into Kevin as a final word. They got into a bit of a tussle in which Kevin slice Nathaniel across the face as the final ‘we’re done’. Nathaniel left the castle grounds for some space and hid away for a week when he’d realized something was wrong. He was pregnant.

Knowing what the Moriyamas would do to him and how they would have decided to use this to their advantage, Nathaniel decided to leave the country. He changed his name and disguised himself (with the help of his mother) so he could go to Palmetto. Renee, a solider who helps people escape from the war and settle down into Palmetto, picked Neil out of the crowd instantly. They had to test him since being pregnant allows extra comforts and resources and many people try to fool them for it every day.

Neil was kept under constant watch by Andrew, a fellow soldier and friend of Renee’s. They talked every day, Neil never giving up any information and doing his best to take scraps of info about the war from Andrew. Eventually, Neil was far along enough for a doctor, Abby, to examine him and prove he was with child. The information wasn’t a blessing to Neil and only made him more bitter and hostile towards the Foxes (soldiers of palmetto tasked with guarding the farms that those with pregnancies stay at) Neil was allowed privacy but that was a favor from Andrew after Neil gave him a truth.

Neil had planned to use the comforts provided for pregnant ppl until Milo was born and he could just give him up and move on with his life. Andrew knew and because no one asked, he never told any of the other Foxes. Andrew would give Neil reports about the ongoing war, they’d play their truths game, and ofc Andrew would just do his duties as a guard.

When Milo was born, Neil decided to keep him, afraid to end up alone in this new country. While recovering, Neil could not stand the Foxes reckless and messy teamwork during battles and provided them with better plans and instructions while in bed rest. Dan was eager to let him since his plans worked and made sense. When Neil recovered, he enlisted and Dan took him under her wing to train him to replace her.

Word got out about this new strategist of there’s and how ruthless he was. Kevin had not been out on the field (he’s one of few people allowed to switch back and forth between battlefield fighting and hq strategy) but Riko had.

Riko one day stormed back into hq to rant about Nathaniel being the new strategist. Kevin didn’t believe it and didn’t think it was a funny joke since everyone had assumed Nathaniel was dead. Kevin instantly geared up to meet them on the battlefield and fought him, using Nathaniel’s old habits to get him on his back and unmask him. Kevin was relieved to find him alive but confused as to why he was fighting for palmetto.

Neil kicked Kevin’s ass and told him to go back home, deciding to retreat for now. Kevin followed his lead in his state of shock. A week later, he received a note from Nathaniel to meet him by a certain lake they used to hang around as kids. There, he explained that he was no longer Nathaniel and he would not be coming back to the Moriyamas. They argued, Kevin begged for him to come back, he told him that the Moriyamas killed Mary for hiding him and her last words were that Nathaniel died, Nathaniel did not mention his assault or his son but threw his abuse in Kevin’s face before they calmed down and talked about nothing. Sunrise came around and Neil left.

Kevin had hopes of convincing Neil back and confided in Jean about his struggles. He told Riko to forgive Neil and naively hoped they could all just go back to normal.

Flash forward to Tetsuji having a mission for Kevin. Kevin, eager to prove himself, agreed to kill an enemies son. Tetsuji tells him to slow down before explaining that it’s a baby and not only is it a child, it is Nathaniel’s one and only son. Kevin begs and tries to convince Tetsuji to see another way, that Milo won’t be a threat, that they can’t do this to family. Tetsuji reminds him that Nathaniel is a traitor and no longer family and that if he cannot complete this mission, someone else (possibly Riko) will. Tetsuji does this to Kevin because he wants to ensure that Kevin is a Moriyama and just like when Tetsuji was ordered to kill a sister (Kayleigh) Kevin must kill a nephew (Milo)

Kevin suits up and heads to the farm where Milo lives, sneaking in with the help of the Moriyamas and a token Neil had given him in case Kevin ever wanted to escape to Palmetto (it was a coin with a fox on it that he’d flash towards any guards at the boarders, and they’d let him in) At the farm, Kevin loses his resolve because of how much Milo just looks like Neil. Kevin had first met Neil when he was three years old at a Wesninski banquet, that’s when Riko had gifted Kevin with the honor of training him. Neil moved in with them when he was eight years old, and started his physical training at 10. Kevin couldn’t fathom killing Milo when all he saw was Neil’s infant face at that banquet.

Kevin instead kidnapped Milo and taken him back to the Moriyamas castle where he begged Riko to convince Tetsuji to let them keep him. Riko had agreed instantly with ulterior motives to raise his own Wesnisnki weapon. They tutored Milo in battle strategy and while Kevin was away on the battlefield, Riko would hurt Milo.

Neil had gone to torturing the Moriyamas ppl to find information about Milo’s possible whereabouts. It had gotten bad enough that the Moriyamas were willing to just toss him back to Neil or even kill him to get rid of the evidence. Riko had a dumbass plan to send an infants mutilated body back to Neil with a threat. Kevin actually believed it to be Milo and had a mental breakdown about the loss until Riko revealed it was all a trick. Kevin began to realize how much of a monster Riko actually was.

Meanwhile, Neil stopped torturing the Moriyamas citizens and instead just started burning down their villages. At first, it seemed like a ridiculous act of grief and the Moriyamas opened their kingdoms city borders for the homeless to reside in temporarily. Once all of their ppl were in one place, Neil broke into the castle and gathered all the Moriyamas to make them beg for mercy.

Kevin was the only one to beg for forgiveness and accept any punishments Neil had to offer. Kevin hadn’t known where Riko hid Milo at the time and didn’t know if he should admit that Milo was in fact alive (after all, Kevin didn’t even have proof) when the Moriyamas made halfassed apologies for Neil’s loss, he told Kevin that he was an idiot and needed to stop treating Neil like a child. Then Neil set the entire city on fire as his men slaughtered as many women and children as they could. Kevin was forced to watch from a window and listen to the people’s screams as the city burned and bled. It was the first time Kevin saw Neil as a monster.

Neil then castrated the Moriyamas, killing Kengo and Ichirou and taking Tetsuji’s hands. Kevin was the only person unscathed because Neil knew how Kevin has the worst case of survivors guilt. Riko was the only person who escaped, hiding away until the next day when the fires died.

Tetsuji was meant to make Riko king now. He first ordered Kevin to kill Milo as a last act of vengeance and fear that Neil would discover the truth. Riko taunted him about it and went to sleep like a baby for his coronation the next day. Kevin almost did kill Milo before deciding to instead kill Riko in his sleep. Kevin took Milo and returned him to Neil’s men.

On his long journey to palmetto (now that the city is burned and the borders are back up Kevin must take the long way) Jean’s spirit follows him, talking to Kevin as he begins to believe he is going insane. He didn’t want to believe Jean was dead but it was the only answer. Tetsuji and his advisors slaughtered Jean for killing Riko. They didn’t bother investigating and brutally murdered him. Kevin eventually is able to return Milo and wanders between the borders, unable to return home or go to palmetto.

Neil later forgives Kevin (after a very long few years) and helps him connect with Wymack. While Kevin talks to Neil about his plans, he avoids the war and Neil never tells him that Tetsuji hung himself and the throne now belongs to Kevin. The war is coming to a close and Kevin needs to let it end before he can claim his title. Except, while Kevin is helping a few ppl escape to Palmetto, Milo (who is a teenager by now) tries to kill him, driving Kevin farther from both kingdoms. It’s why he never gets the news about the end of the war or Neil and Andrew’s brutal deaths.

Injured and weakened, Kevin tries to help as many people as he can as they all make way to palmetto. Crossing the river, Kevin is too injured from Milo’s attack to fight the ripples, causing Kevin to fall and bust his head open on a rock. Kevin drowns until he finally bleeds out.

As for Neil and Andrew, they were still on the war front the day the news of the end came. Neil was asked to help some villagers nearby their camp. He was tricked and captured and the villagers burned him alive for a day and a half. Nearing the second day, Andrew received word about Neil’s kidnapping. He was leaving their tent when he’d had a heart attack and died. Andrew was purposely poisoned so he wouldn’t avenge Neil’s death.

The only survivor of this story was Milo, who had trained himself for his parents war, who was tortured just to end it, who was kidnapped and separated from Neil, who didn’t even get to fight in it. Milo lived to tell their tale and was forced to face it alone.

The end.

[altocat]

i'm still following first soldier's plot just from these posts but how is young sephiroth portrayed? is he evil or like he was in crisis core or what

Young Sephiroth is depicted as being confused, insecure, and kind of brainwashed from years of conditioning under Shinra. First Soldier provided some interesting aspects and moments for his character, which I'll bullet for you here real quick.

Sephiroth has never been on a real mission before this one. Most of his "accomplishments" so far have been fabricated lies under Shinra for propaganda purposes. Despite him simultaneously being freakishly strong and overpowered thanks to the Jenova cells.

Sephiroth is also apparently incredibly sheltered as he comes across as very socially awkward and kind of shy when he isn't sticking to Shinra's script. It's implied he's barely ever interacted with actual people outside of a controlled setting.

Sephiroth carries a locket of his mother Lucrecia (who he refers to as Jenova) and at this point still believes her to be alive and is looking for her. He apparently asks everyone he meets to see if they know anything about her. He loses this locket offscreen btw and it's bullshit.

Sephiroth is a brainwashed child soldier and often spouts fucked up logic/Shinra propaganda in order to justify his more violent actions. He conveys an extremely paranoid world view that if he doesn't fight, he'll be killed or hurt. This obv speaks to the conditions Shinra put him under during training.

That said, Sephiroth actively dislikes his status as a "hero" and just wants to find his mom and live a normal life. He breaks down crying after killing a bunch of child soldiers his own age and says that he never wanted to be what he is.

Sephiroth occasionally has moments where he acts like an actual little kid, giggling over Glenn's jokes, wanting the group's approval, and often coming off as being kind of timid and overly respectful. He has two modes--hardass leader sticking to a schedule and a literal child trying to push himself too hard because that's all he was ever taught.

Most of the time he's pretty supportive and courteous, if not overly polite. He clearly really wants to impress his team and often apologizes whenever he makes a mistake. He's leader, but he's figuring things out.

Lastly, and strangely most importantly, the stupid Halloween Event of all things confirmed that Hojo has been abusing/torturing Sephiroth for most of his life and is likely the reason why Sephiroth pushes himself so hard.

Currently, Sephiroth's story is still unfinished. The game makes it clear that he's grown very attached to his new team and feels responsible for protecting them from danger. He and main character Glenn have formed a brotherly bond of sorts and Sephiroth willingly goes against Shinra's orders in order to follow his team to rescue another boy his age from danger (Rosen). Rosen and Sephiroth are expected to have an encounter next chapter and it's very strongly implied that Sephiroth will end up killing Rosen as a means of trying to protect his group/some other reason. It's gonna be fucked up and emotional either way.

[xhoneygirlxx]

One Of The Girls

Modern King!Steve x Fem Reader

summary: Steve only hits you up when it’s convenient for him and you’ll always answer because it feels nice to be what he wants, even if it’s just for a night.

warnings: fboy!Steve, modern au! circa 2018. reader and Steve are both in their early 20's. reader is given the nickname 'trouble'. ooc steve, he's a big meanie and pretty much a douche bag. angst. Minors DNI smut: unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, oral receiving (m), daddy kink, swearing, slight dom/sub, cream pie, insinuations to reader being on birth control, possessive steve, toxic steve! hair pulling. Steve's job is mentioned briefly, I like to think that this version of him works for his dad landscaping, so that's what i put lmao. this is named after The Weeknd's song from the idol and I also use his song 'Try Me' in this, awe well. if i miss anything please let me know! also bad writing and grammar mistakes, not proofread.

a/n: hi my loves! i was inspired to write something based off of this blurb. again, smut is so not my strong suit so i beg that you be nice to me :) i also want to mention that when i was looking for pics for this fic, i couldn't find one picture that gave me fboy vibes bc joe keery is simply bf coded lmao. thank you all for interacting with my posts and just being so lovely to me! i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoy this <3

divider by: @saradika

You knew from the moment you met Steve Harrington it would be trouble, that he'd have you locked down for as long as he wanted. The pretty boy with the nice smile, who said all the right things and made all the right moves. You were a fool from the get go and he knew, he knew it the moment you let him hit that you were his.

Everyone knew about 'king Steve', the boy with the puppy dog eyes but a closet filled with so many skeletons that the door refused to shut. From what you heard he wasn't a relationship kind of guy, that he collected bodies like he was paid for it, and then went on his merry way no matter what carnage he left behind.

He was bad news and you swore you would stay away, not get swept up in the honey like vortex of his eyes, but when he said your name it sounded so right and who were you to refuse someone as tempting as him.

The name satan isn't far off for him, both so beautiful and angelic but rotten to the core, so evil that you often wonder if they were ever created with a soul.

As much as you wanted to let him go, block him out of your life completely, you simply couldn't. All your friends thought you were stupid for playing such a dangerous game but they didn't know him like you did. They didn't know how he actually took care of you when he was done abusing your poor hole, how he'd buy you little gifts simply because it reminded him of you, and they certainly didn't know the boy who would make you laugh so hard your ribs bruised.

At least that's what you tell yourself, how you sugar coat the simple fact that Steve Harrington treats you like trash because let's face it, he does. For every thing he does 'right' he does a million other things wrong. He goes weeks without texting you and the only time he does is when he's desperate. He only takes you to secluded spots just so he can get a nut. And most importantly, he tells you everything you want to hear so that you stay.

You were connected to Steve by a string, no matter how far you pulled away he would pull you right back in. If you were a masochist then he was a sadist and you would take whatever torture he gave you with the biggest smile on your face because at the end of the day you were his and only his.

It's a Friday night and while you'd usually be out with friends, you opted to stay in tonight, too tired from the work week to physically get out of bed.

Under the warmth of your comforter, you scroll through Instagram blindly liking different post on your timeline. The white numbers in the corner of your screen read a little bit past midnight and as badly as your eyes wanted to shut, your brain simply couldn't resist the glow of your screen.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen and your ready to fling it away to dismiss it when your heart rate picks up at the name.

IMessage:

Harrington 🙄

Your finger moves faster than the speed of lightning, hitting on the bubble to open the messaging app.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

It's a simple enough message but you sit and ponder how to respond. You don't want to come off too desperate but you also don't want to wait too long to respond knowing he has other options lined up. Without overthinking too much more, you move your thumbs across the keyboard and sending your message.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

You: nm, why?

Waiting with bated breath, you watch the text bubble pop up to notify he's typing.

Harrington 🙄: wya? lemme scoop you

Bingo.

You: im at home. how long do i have before you get here?

Harrington 🙄: bet. gimme 15 mins.

Your heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is and you shouldn't be hopping around with joy like Snow White when she's singing to the birds, but like always Steve says jump and you say how high.

It should make you sick how he hasn't texted you in two weeks, only now asking to come get you so he can fuck. It should make you sick when you put on your brand new panties, that you may or may not have bought for just him. It should make you sick when you spritz yourself in his favorite perfume, growing flustered at the memory of him complimenting you for it.

All of it should make you sick to your stomach but that's not a possibility when he chose you. He chose you to keep going back to, he chose you to continue seeing and not one and done your ass. A twisted part of your brain is so convinced that he has some sort of feelings for you, the way you do for him. It's like a kaleidoscope, no matter how you twist or turn it, the colors are always so beautiful.

And if everyone wanted to tell you any different, all you had to do was show them the sparkling diamond necklace that hung from your chest. A thoughtful gift from the man they all claimed didn't have any love in his heart, even though you and everyone else knew it was a way to show his claim on you.

The familiar sound of Steve's blacked out Jeep pulling in your drive way makes your heart jump with excitement. Wasting no time, you dash down the drive, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

Pulling the door open you're met with the all too familiar scent of him, Ralph Lauren Ultra Blue swirling in your nose and going straight to your head.

He looks so good in his grey joggers, hugging his thick thighs that he knows drive you crazy. The white Hanes tee he wears is crisp, like he ironed it before putting it on. The sleeves wrap about his toned chest oh so perfectly causing some of his wild chest hair to poke out. To add the icing on the cake he's wearing that gold chain, that damn gold chain you loved looking at when he had you on your back.

"Hey trouble." White teeth flash in the darkness of the car, like the moon that's hung in the sky.

"Hi Stevie," You internally cringe at how needy it sounds, "how was work?" He gives you a small chortle at your question, still smiling that damn smile that could cure deceases.

"It was fine, had to cut the college's lawns. Ya know, the fun stuff." You nod your head at his answer, too nervous to even give a spoken response.

"Anyway, I thought we could take a ride down to lover's." It's said like it wasn't common knowledge already. Giving him a small okay, he leans over and places a quick peck on your lips, before putting the car into drive.

The ride to lover's lake from your house was a short seven minute drive but for some reason it felt like the roads were getting longer and longer. You want to jump out of the car, bile rising in your throat knowing how this is going to end. The heartbreak, the sadness you were gonna feel the minute he pulls out was already hitting you and it hasn't even happened yet.

His radio plays at a louder volume, The Weeknd's 'Try Me' bumping through the speakers.

You're the best I ever had

Baby girl, remind me, mind me

Let me now if it's on

And you know where to find me, find me

Havin thoughts you never had, yeah

You want to roll your eyes at the words but then again maybe he put this on because this is how he felt about you. The logical part of your brain tells you to get real but when you feel the fuzziness in your cheeks, your logic is all but ignored.

Maybe this time will be different, you think.

When he pulls onto the dirt path, he pulls the car under the big oak tree he always does. You wonder if this is where he brings all of his hookups but decide to push that though in the back of your head, not wanting to ruin the night.

"I missed you, trouble." Steve leans his back on the driver side door, watching you with those eyes you feel for all those months ago.

"And I bet you say that to all your little girlfriends." You jest back, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You and I both know that's not true." The low husky tone in his voice makes the fact he didn't deny the accusation of having other girls around, go down that much sweeter.

"You're all talk Harrington," You say seductively, leaning over the center console, "Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

Steve's smile is wicked, pulling the keys out of the ignition, pointing you to get into the back. When you're settled in, he maneuvers ungracefully over the center console, making both of you laugh.

Sitting his body in the middle seat, you swing your leg over his lap, immediately locking your lips with his. Steve's not as rough as he usually is, taking his time like he's trying to memorize the way your mouth felt and tasted.

When you try to speed it up, he wraps his hand in your hair, yanking you off of him.

"Slow and steady, baby. We have all the time in the world." With your hair wrapped around his fist and his hard cock digging into your thigh, his voice is all but calm and sweet.

Moving back in to meet his lips, you match his energy. Rolling your hips slowly, you relish in the way he groans into your mouth. When you drag your hips over his again, you shudder with the way his hard on catches on your throbbing clit. Wetness starts to fill your panties, tummy tightening with want.

Steve's hands move to your hips, guiding your movement. Spit soaked lips leave yours, moving along your jaw down to your neck. Leaning your head up to the roof of the car, he takes that as invitation to massacre the tender skin.

He sucks hard, right where your vein pumps frantically with lust, leaving another mark for you to carry around. One more tattoo right on your heart that beats for him.

Pulling away, a thick finger grabs onto the chain that hides under the collar of your sweatshirt. The small diamond glittering softly in the darkness of the night.

"Look at my baby, wearing her present so proudly. Isn't that right?" It's cocky and it should make you shiver with an ick but it doesn't. It only fuels your delusions.

You hum in response, too dumb off of his kiss to even open your mouth.

"Nuh uh, I asked you a question." Moving your sight down to him, he's already looking up at you. His lips are shining, cheeks puffed from the smile that glitters up at you.

"Yes, daddy." A deep growl comes from the back of his throat, a feral look painting over him.

You pretty much get whiplash from how fast he rips off your sweatshirt, revealing the pretty lace bra in the color he adores so much on you. His lips suck harshly on the skin of your chest, leaving reminds of him for only you to see.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" It's breathy and so desperate leaving your mouth, all that talk about not wanting to look needy right out the window.

When his head moves away from the valley of your cupped breasts, he looks like a kid on Christmas. Eyes twinkling with excitement, like he's been waiting for all year round to hear those words.

"Don't need to beg me now, trouble. It's all yours." The smirk that paints Steve's lips is devilish and if you were in the right headspace you'd scoff at his condescending tone. But right now he was giving you exactly what you wanted and you weren't about to complain.

Clambering off of his lap, you move into the seat next to him, kneeling down. You could double as a dog who waits patiently for their owner to drop their treat, tail wagging and heavily panting.

Steve lifts his hips pushing down his joggers and underwear in one go, his heavy cock jumping up in excitement, bouncing off of his stomach.

The saliva in your mouth pools, almost escaping through your slightly parted lips. Your metaphorical dog bone waiting in front of you but you can't have it until he tells you to, so you wait for him to get get comfy again.

Looking over at you, he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'well?', and that's all you need to hear to move forward, making sure to arch your back when you do.

You decide to tease him a bit, kitten licking the head before sliding your tongue up the prominent vein that sat on the underside. The feeling of him shuttering spurs you one even more, bringing a hand up to his heavy ball sack and gently running a finger over it. You can feel your panties being drenched even more with wetness, just from the thought of how he tastes.

As weird as it might sound, you loved Steve's dick. It was a good seven inches, with the slightest curve that made him hit that special spot every time. He was thick too, so thick you that he always needed to prep you with his three of his fingers before hand.

Bringing your head back to the tip, you dripple spit onto it, smearing it with the precum that's already beaded out. Ever so slowly, you take your hand and begin you jerk him at the base of it. Looking up at him, you can see him eyes closed, brows furrowed together, as his chest moves rapidly up and down.

Deciding that you can't wait any further, you put him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down. Not even halfway down his shaft and you begin to gag around him. Using your hand to take whatever your mouth can't, you move faster. The raunchy sounds of you slurping him up fill the small space of the car.

When Steve jolts his hips forward you can't help but choke, throat closing around him, making him moan deeply.

"I know but you can take it, right?" You do your best to nod your head with him in your mouth. You look up at him with glassy eyes, drool coming out both sides of your mouth, and he chuckles at you.

"So fuckin' pretty." Steve says breathlessly and you beam at the praise, going back to taking him further in your mouth.

You push through the want to gag, putting more and more of him in your mouth. You want to prove something to him, prove that no one else can make him feel like this and it seems to be working when he whines so loud it rings in your ears.

Pulling your hand off of the base, you cup his balls in your hand, messaging the sack gently in your hair. The heavy weight of his hand lands on the top of your head, once again yanking you by the hair.

You whine at the loss of his heavy cock in his mouth, pouting childishly at him when your at eye level with him again. He's panting hard, cheeks fleshed pink, and his hair messy from him running his hand through it.

"It was so good, honey," he breathes, "but I really wanna finish inside of you."

The sentence makes your belly burn even harder than before. Trying to move around in the cramped backseat is challenging, both of you pausing to laugh when your pants get caught on your foot awkwardly.

Once your leggings and panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, Steve takes his time admiring you. His gaze burns you with every movement of his eyes. Here you are, clumsily sprawled out for him in the backseat of his beloved Jeep.

Bringing a hand to your thigh, he rubs it up and down the skin, causing the skin to raise in goosebumps every time his finger would catch on the lip of your heat.

You whimper at him, raising your hips trying to meet his touch where you need him most. Tisking down at you, he shakes his head.

"What's the magic word?" He teases and you pout even harder.

"Please, Stevie? Need you." You say wetly, the burn of tears coming back in your eyes. Steve leans over you, so close that if you brought your head up just an inch, your noses would touch.

"The right answer was, 'Steve is the coolest', but I'll let it slide since you sound so cute." He whispers to you, placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

The tip of his finger runs along your slit and you mewl at the feeling.

"Do you always get this wet, trouble? Or is this just for him." The smile pulled on is one like the joker. Sick and twisted and yet all you see is an angel from above.

"S'for you. S'always for you, daddy." It comes out like a slur, so drunk off of one little touch.

"That's my girl." It's more like a whisper when it comes out of his mouth.

His finger diving into the sticky mess that's been made in between your legs. Swirling his finger around your hole, spreading the wetness up to your bundle of nerves, moving in slow figure eights around it.

Steve hasn't even put a finger inside you yet and the lewd squelching of your pussy can probably be heard for miles. The feeling of him putting more pressure on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure. When the first finger breaches your hole, your eyes close in euphoria.

Even with just one of his fingers inside of you, it feels way better than anything else. The thickness of it stretching you further than two of yours could.

Still using his thumb to circle your clit, he pushes another finger in. Starting off slow, he pumps both into you, curling them up in a 'come hither' motion.

You're high off of him, off of the way his hands feel, and how good he's making you feel. All of that waiting and wondering when he'd reach out to you paying off in this very moment.

"You can take another one, right? You gonna take three of daddy's fingers like the good girl you are?" His voice is intoxicating and you drink it right up.

You nod your head, babbling 'please daddy' and 'more, more, more". He's eating it right up, the way he's got you dumb and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

Without another word, another thick finger joins the other two. This time he decides to go faster, hitting that spot you struggle to reach on your own. With his thumb still swirling around and now three fingers deep, you can feel the tightness in your stomach building.

You can feel your slick dripping down your ass onto the leather seat beneath you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs pulling up from where he's sat between them, toes curling in a death grip.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm cumming," The sentence gets cut off with the air that's trapped in your throat.

His movements don't stop, guiding you through your orgasm. When the waves of your orgasm washes over you, your legs relax like they're filled with jelly, slobber running down the side of your face, and your chest moving unsteady as you try to catch your breath.

You hiss when he removes his hand from you, mourning the loss of feeling full. Moving his fingers to his lips, he sucks your juices off of them one at a time, releasing them with a pop when he's done.

Using his other hand, he brushes some of the hair that's sticking to your face with sweat behind your ear. Placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, he glances down at you. The harsh black that once enveloped his irises are now softened with a look that you have yet to decipher.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart." He coos at you, running his thumb along your jaw. "You okay? Need a break?"

"No, I'm okay Stevie." Your smile is nothing but pure happiness. Blame it on the after glow of your orgasm all you want, but the happiness is purely due to his attentiveness to you.

Placing one more kiss to your deprived lips, he moves his attention to his aching cock. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he jerks himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pushing in gently, his tip breaches your hole and all the air is punched out of your lungs. Even with his prepping, you never seem ready for the real thing.

Going inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to catch your breath, he finally pushes all the way in. After waiting for the okay, he doesn't hesitate to pound into you.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, reworking each and everyone of your organs, but you could careless when it feels this good. You want this feeling forever, the feeling of his weight on top of you, him spreading you out so well.

The gold chain that hangs from his freckled neck dangles in front of you, hypnotizing you with the way it moves back and forth. With all the strength you have, you watch him trying to remember how he looks when he's inside of you so when he ultimately ghosts you, you can close you eyes and imagine it.

Steve looks so beautiful like this, eyes closed tightly, browns pulling together, pink puffy lip tucked behind his straight teeth. You want to take a picture, hang it in a museum for all of the world to see, but this is for only you to see. Your own little memento for you to keep to yourself.

"Fuck you're so wet, hmph, and warm. Jesus" Steve grits out, bringing you back to reality.

Skin slapping off of skin echoes out, loud moans and groans making a lovely soundtrack just for you two.

"Shit, right there!" You cry out when his cock hits just perfectly on your cervix.

"Bullseye," He whispers to himself before ramming into you even harder than before.

Your mouth curls into an O shape, no words or sounds coming out. The feeling of your finger nails raking down his back backs him grunt loudly.

"You and this pussy are mine. Tell me you're mine." He demands but you can't do it, too overwhelmed with the way your stomach has started to tighten.

Because you don't answer right away, he snakes his hand down to your abused clit, circling it again causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

"Don't make me tell you again, trouble." He spits out.

"I'm yours Steve. S'yours." You shout, your orgasms approaching faster and faster.

"S'always gonna be mine, right? No one else?" He question and it sends your head reeling.

"Always yours, always fuck, yours." You're babbling now, tippy toeing on the brink of your release.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock." He pants, going faster and faster as he does.

Without argument, you're hurdled over the the edge, gushing and pulsing around Steve. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high now.

"Cum in me, daddy. Wanna feel it so bad." You coax, wanting to feel the warmth of his seed filling you up.

"I love how you feel, baby. You got, motherfuck, no idea." His strokes are starting to lose rhythm, sloppily moving as he continues.

"I love this pussy s'much. Fuckin' love yo-" Before he can finish his statement, he cums with a guttural moan.

Your mind goes blank, eyes snapping open with confusion. Was he about to say he loved you? Is that what he was going to say? Every single question runs through your mind while the boy in question is collapsed on top of you, breath choppy and erratic as he comes down.

After what feels like the world's longest minute, he removes himself off of you, pulling his dick out from your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, missing him even more than before.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls open the center consul and takes out a couple of napkins. Returning his attention to you, he wipes down the mess of you and his release off of you, causing you to shudder. He repeats 'sorry' over and over again as he does.

After that, he uses what's let to clean himself off before getting redressed. You move from your position on your back, sitting upright to ungracefully put your clothes back on. In the darkness of his car, you can't find the panties you were once wearing, deciding to forget about them and pull your leggings back on.

The blissful after glow that was once there is now demolished, a big elephant taking up most of the space now. When he moves back to the driver seat, you follow right behind him, planting yourself in the passenger.

Steve doesn't turn the car on just set, he just sits looking straight ahead through the clouded windshield to the darkness of the woods that sit in front of you. You want to say something, break up the awkwardness that sits between you two but you don't know what to even say.

It smells like sweat and sex, every window is fogged up with both of your hot breath, and the only sound that can be heard is the breaking of your heart.

You know he won't be back in two weeks, you know that his texts will stop rolling in, and that he'll eventually find someone to fill your spot. The bloodshed that's now left, of whatever this was, now fills the backseat of his car. A crime scene that will haunt him every time he looks in the rearview mirror, a murder by his own hands.

This cat and mouse game isn't fun anymore for Steve, not when he's lost at his own game. You're the cause of his demise, the girl that's broken through all his barriers.

Unbeknownst to you, you're all that Steve thinks about. Every morning, noon, and night, it's you that is on his mind. The months of seeing you, feeling you, the taste of you, were killing him softly. Steve didn't buy gifts for other girls, yeah he fucked around, but he never kept one around the way he did with you and he surely didn’t fuck them raw the way he does with you.

Steve was falling for you, opening himself up in such a vulnerable way that it scared him. He stopped the late night drive going nowhere, switching it to strictly going to lover's lake. The talks that he had with you, all the times you made each other laugh, were now replaced with short answers. Meeting up with you almost all the time now became once every couple of weeks.

You were the one thing, the one person Steve wanted and needed in his life but he couldn't give into it. He was a bad person, an asshole who turned good people into shells of themselves, and out of everyone he couldn't ruin you. He wouldn't ruin you.

Putting the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on, headlights illuminating the trees around you. Cracking the windows, he lets the cool air sweep the scent of you out of his car. Putting the car in drive, he presses down on the gas as hard as he can, taking off of in a flash.

The car ride home is silent, only the hum of his music can be heard with the whooshing of the wind. Anxiety fills your body, picking and pulling the skin around your nails with your teeth.

The loud ding of his phone rings out, a notification popping up on the Apple radio screen. Your heart cracking when you see it.

IMessage:

Jess💦: Still coming over?

Taking his phone out of the cupholder, his eyes are still trained on the road. As he pulls up to the red light, he types out something quickly and then puts it back down.

Another ding is heard and another notification pulls up on the larger screen.

IMessage:

Jess💦: See you soon daddy

Tears fall quietly from your eyes, your heart now completely shattered in the front seat of his car. You should've know, you did know and you still did it. You let your naïve heart believe that maybe you could change him, and you ended up looking like the idiot everyone said you were.

You can't even be mad because they were right, you were a goddamn idiot to think Steve Harrington loved you, let alone liked you enough to change.

More tears fall onto your cheeks, the burning feeling of a choked sob sits in the back of your throat. It feels like everything that could've went wrong, did just that.

The cold nip of the night air can't compete with the way your veins have frozen over and your heart slowly turning into a lump of coal. When he pulls in front of your house, he puts it in park and looks over at you.

“So,” he hesitates, “do you need money for a plan b?”

Your mouth hangs low in shock and he’s looking at you cluelessly. Scoffing at him you pull the handle to the door open.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’m on birth control.” Putting a foot onto the ground, you got to get out, pausing turning your head back to him.

“Not like the world needs another you in it.”

Getting out of the car, you slam the door so hard you're surprised the glass doesn't shatter.

This was the end of whatever you and Steve were, him being the one to cut that pesky string that kept you close to him. Steve Harrington has changed you, a hateful person now replacing the sweet girl he loved so much.

The girl that Steve Harrington loves was now dead and Steve Harrington was now dead to you.

Thank you all for reading. The ending is rushed but we won't speak on that lmao. Love you all <3

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[danmeiconfession]

This is just an opinion.

I’m sorry, but I can’t support a protagonist like Shen Yuan if he can’t respect the body of the person he’s taken over. The transmigration trope in many of these novels often leads to the erasure of the original soul, which makes me feel sad for them. While I understand why many fans like his character, I can’t root for him anymore. There’s a sort of horror in knowing that he and the rest of the readers pushed for such a bleak ending for Shen Jiu. An omnipotent being forces him to be a scum villain, and the person who condemned him has now taken over his body, his name, and married his abuser, his torturer. Imagine how horrified he’d be to learn he’s married to his own disciple—it’s disgusting. Someone who is just like all the men in his life takes away his autonomy and the name he earned; Shen Qingqiu is literally ripped away from him.

I remember someone mentioning that Shen Jiu follows the formula of MXTX's shou protagonists, and they’re right. The only difference is that he’s not allowed to gain a second chance. When Wei Wuxian tried to save the Wens, it cost him everything, similar to how Shen Jiu’s attempt to save his martial brother set off a domino effect of tragedy.

There’s a difference between Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan. Unlike Shen Yuan, whose path is clear and predictable, Shen Jiu’s very rare but kind actions often lead to dire consequences. Each time he tries to do something good, the world retaliates harshly. That’s why I like Shen Jiu more. I don’t mind a character’s misdeeds if they reveal something profound about them. Shen Jiu’s attempts to do good, even when they backfire, show his sincerity. Shen Yuan’s choices, on the other hand, seem easy and don’t require much moral struggle.

What saddens me is that a rich, lazy millennial is thrust into the body of a traumatized orphan and somehow gets the happy ending. Even if he didn’t ask for it, there’s a moral duty to respect the original character he's inhabited now because without Shen Jiu’s body, Shen Yuan would have no purpose is that even a lie because what goals or aspirations did he even have? We truly have nilch to go off what he's like without he's online persona but frankly he's a bad person to me if he harasses an author and makes no effort to even get himself to express his emotions especially his apathy like the fuck bro what going on here bro?? How do you just not give a shit about anything besides your beloved LBG like he's cuckoo up in the head like a few bolts and screws were lost in the making of his birth.

It actually made me mad, to be honest. I wish the author had never created Shen Jiu as a character because it spoiled my enjoyment of the book that I took as fun entertainment. SVSSS was the first transmigration story I read that gave the original soul such an important role. Other stories often use these bodies as self-insert devices, but knowing Shen Jiu is an actual character made me see him differently.

I also find it unsettling that Shen Yuan has to live as another person for the rest of his life. Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. If the author isn’t going to do an identity reveal in an MXTX story, what does that say about Shen Yuan’s relationship with everyone else and the ML included? Wouldn’t everything fall apart? Doesn't that mean something is off lol???

This omission to me kinda undermines the foundation of his relationships, especially with the main love interest. Living a lie means that Shen Yuan’s connections are based on a false premise. If those around him, including the main love interest, don’t know who he truly is, their interactions and feelings might be based on their own misconceptions. In essence, the story hinges on Shen Jiu because his life and identity are the foundation upon which Shen Yuan builds his new existence and I find SY careless and disregard of that to be unappealing for a protagonist to follow .

I can see how the System's role in "SVSSS" can be interpreted as a form of horror, especially considering the implications for Shen Jiu. Here's an expanded take on your guys idea a theory of sorts:

The System's reasoning for booting Shen Jiu out and replacing him with Shen Yuan could be seen as a chillingly calculated move. Shen Jiu’s unwillingness to follow the predetermined outline and his resistance to the System's goals could have led to his removal. The System’s primary objective seems to be the satisfaction and happiness of Luo Binghe, the protagonist. Given the tragic nature of "PIDW" (Proud Immortal Demon Way), the System might have sought a more compliant individual to ensure a more favorable outcome for Luo Binghe.

If the protagonist, Luo Binghe, obsessively desires companionship and affection from Shen Qingqiu, and the original Shen Jiu isn't reciprocating, the System might decide to alter the course of the world. This new beginning involves replacing Shen Jiu with someone who not only understands the narrative but is also deeply invested in Luo Binghe's happiness—someone like Shen Yuan. As a form of punishment for Shen Jiu’s disobedience, the System forces him to take a backseat, helplessly watching as events unfold with Shen Yuan in control of his body.

This scenario adds a layer of horror, as it portrays the System as an omnipotent force capable of rewriting lives and fates to suit its goals. Shen Jiu’s autonomy is completely stripped away, and he’s forced to witness his own life being manipulated and his identity being overridden. By replacing Shen Jiu with Shen Yuan, the System ensures that Luo Binghe’s desires are met, but at the cost of Shen Jiu’s existence.

.

[the-bitterest-breakups-poll]

Poll: Round 1c #7

[ Image ID. An image of the first volume cover of The scum villain's self-saving system, and an image of the poster for Major Grom: Plague Doctor. End ID]

*Reminder that Break up is being used loosely here and not all relationships may be romantic in nature

Propaganda under cut:

Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan:

<tw: child abuse, slavery, torture>

- Child slaves who bonded very closely with each other through shared trauma. Ended up kind of feral about each other.

- Shen Jiu ended up being bought by a rich asshole solely for the purpose of making his life hell, after he saved Yue Qi from being trampled by said rich asshole’s horse.

- Yue Qi tries to save him over and over again, but fails every time, eventually runs away to become a cultivator and promises he will come back.

- Three years later, Shen Jiu snaps and kills the rich asshole and his family and runs off to apprentice under a notorious criminal. He assumes Yue Qi is dead.

- A year after that, he finds out that Yue Qi is not dead, but instead the head disciple of a cultivation sect, now known as Yue Qingyuan. Shen Jiu is very upset finding out that Yue Qi had abandoned him.

- Yue Qingyuan gets Shen Jiu a place in the sect, and eventually he becomes the second in command of the sect, while Yue Qingyuan is the leader.

- They don’t become friends again, even though their positions require them to interact. Instead, any time they have a conversation, they part on bad terms within five lines of dialogue.

- Shen Jiu, now Shen Qingqiu, kind of ends up being a terrible person because he has no idea how to cope with his trauma and is constantly lashing out. Yue Qingyuan tries his best to reconcile and accommodate him to the point where he often turns a blind eye to Shen Jiu’s actions.

- Eventually, Shen Jiu ends up imprisoned and tortured by his former disciple Luo Binghe as retribution for his abuse. Luo Binghe uses Shen Jiu to set a trap for Yue Qingyuan, and Yue Qingyuan dies very badly, which is what ends up completely breaking Shen Jiu.

- Later, you find out that Yue Qingyuan hadn’t abandoned Shen Jiu, but instead he had tried so hard to get strong enough to come back to save him that he ended up very nearly dying, going through horrific trauma of his own. By the time he got out of the cave he had been trapped in, he went to get Shen Jiu but found the estate burned down and assumed that his old friend was dead.

- They could be interpreted romantically or just as friends, but their breakup kind of ended up basically causing the destruction of the world over an awful misunderstanding.

- Anyway I am very feral over them.

Igor Grom and Sergey razumovski:

It's a friendship breakup! Except neither of them had made a friend in a long time so they didn't *realize* they were friends even though it was super obvious and other characters saw it. [SPOILERS FROM HERE] The unsaid made the breakup worse when Igor (the cop trying to catch the Plague Doctor (who makes some good points but goes about it in a bad way, like many movie villains)) finally understood that the Plague Doctor was Sergey. But neither of them knew that it was actually Sergey's alter personality. So Igor thought the Plague Doctor was Sergey's best friend, then learned that the guy had been dead for years, then went to see Sergey fully convinced that it was yet someone else, *anyone else*, that Sergey could help him find. Meanwhile Sergey had offered Igor his help to catch the Plague Doctor, and was happy to see his new friend come see him, just to learn that said new friend now suspects him of being a terrorist (give him a break T_T) The messy part is that Sergey immediately crashes a bottle on Igor's skull, then regrets it because he thought he killed his friend, then, because obviously Igor's not dead, sets him up so that Igor's colleagues think that *Igor* is the Plague Doctor and throw him in jail. When of course Igor breaks out and goes to confront Sergey (without any backup, because he doesn't want to endanger his two allies who are now the closest he's got to friends), they talk with their fists. And the furniture in the room. And also flamethrowers. It's messy. At some point during the fight Igor's plan is to throw both of them, Sergey and himself, together, from the window. Which he does. They're on the top floor of a skyscraper. That is such a reasonable, thought-out, restrained reaction to being disappointed by someone (/ironic). They only survive because other people catch them.

[btr-rewatch]

Big Time Rush Fandom lore from back in the day

The fandom during the years the show was on was booming with constant content being churned out, especially fanfics. Most of the BTR fanfic community knew each other and formed collective headcanons and lore that were then spread and picked up by the rest of the fandom (ie tumblr). I had only just recently discovered online fandom spaces at the time, so I didn't contribute fanfics or anything (which is good because I was young, and they would have been terrible), but I did absorb a good deal that stuck with me. Thought it might be fun to share. A lot of this might still apply today but truth be told, I don't really know much about the current fandom headcanons. I'm still learning things as I continue to interact with people on here! Also! Idk if anyone currently in the fandom was around during Miss Fenway's reign, but she was the Queen of the BTR fandom and most "famous" of the fanfic community. A lot of the headcanons adopted by the fandom started with her and were quickly picked up by others.

Kendall • Pretty much unanimous agreement that his father was a deadbeat who had walked out on the family very shortly after Katie was born. This explains why there is ZERO mention of him in the show, no family pictures in the background that hint at a father still being in their lives, etc. He caused them a lot of pain, so they erased any trace of him. • Some people took a little bit of a kinder approach to him, where he was a genuinely loving dad when Kendall was very young, but then things unraveled, and he ended up leaving. • He was big into hockey, which sparked Kendall's love for the sport. • Lots of sad fanfics involving Little Kendall dealing with his parents deteriorating marriage and being forced to "take charge" once his dad left. • Also agreement that he likely dealt with a decent amount of anxiety and very clear abandonment issues, along with a hero complex. • Naturally, Kendall was very often the focus of intensely angsty fics. He was always being pushed to the limit, ignoring his own issues, sacrificing himself, etc until he reached his breaking point.

Logan • Prior to the airing of Big Time Moms, it was generally headcanoned that Logan's mother had died when he was very young, and he was being raised by his father. • It was also headcanoned (in the fanfic-sphere at least) that Logan's dad was an awful person. Don't ask me how this came to be because I don't actually know. All I remember is discovering fanfiction, reading fic after fic of Logan's dad being horrible, and going, "Huh, I guess that's a thing." • Logan's dad ranged anywhere from being a raging workaholic who totally ignored & neglected Logan to being outright abusive. • The main reason Logan threw himself so hard into school and being "smart" was so his father would notice him. It did not work. • Because of this, the fandom headcanoned that Logan was pretty much "adopted" into the Knight family from the moment he befriended Kendall. Mrs. Knight is the one who raised him and gave him love, and so he and Kendall grew up as brothers. (Several fanfics even had Logan be officially adopted into the Knight family at some point) • If there was an award for most tortured character in BTR fanfiction, Logan would have won hands down during the 2009-2013 fanfic era. This guy was put through the wringer! He was always experiencing trauma. When he wasn't being emotionally scarred by his dad, he was dying tragically or losing an arm in a shark attack or getting brain damage or being kidnapped. Logan suffered constantly lol the poor guy.

Carlos • He likely got the best, most lighthearted side of fandom headcanons and probably suffered the least in fics. Largely because he's Carlos, and nobody wants to hurt Carlos. • From a big, loud, happy family. Definitely the healthiest, most stable upbringing of all the boys. • Babied and loved so so much by his parents. • People had different ideas regarding the actual makeup of his immediate family, but most people headcanoned him as the oldest and only boy, with 3 or 4 much younger sisters. • His father was often written as having a special bond with Logan. I remember a trend in fics where Logan called Mr. Garcia "papa" and looked to him as the main father figure in his life. • It's still assumed that Carlos has a serious case of ADHD, right? Because that was a given back in the day. James • Honestly, I remember the least amount of James lore. Let's see... • Only child • Uses his superficial exterior to hide the fact he's deeply insecure • Actually feels everything so deeply that he has to pretend he doesn't care to avoid getting hurt. This was used to many fic writer's advantage. • Loved by his parents, but they don't show it well, and he grew up feeling disconnected from them. And that's about all I've got!

I should dig back through my old list of bookmarked fanfics at some point and make a post of the ones that were my favorites.

[badtzsmile]

Funger oc bc I'm cringe AND free.

Moonscorch and info belowww

Yeah uhhh it's still pretty much a concept but yeah.

This guy's name is Andrej Hájek, born in Prehevil and sent to the orphanage at 11 years old due to his parents passing away, his mother poisoned his father and his father smashed his mother's head to death. This guy got sent to St. Domek's and got to know Levi until he was sold. Andrej was often abused, the priests frequented him a lot, he took out his frustrations and the dirty feeling on others or himself; it either ended up on torture or him feeling guilty and crying himself to sleep, most of the time those three things got mixed. He got adopted around the age of 13, almost 14. Things got better for him, but of course he was left scarred. He's now broke, homeschooled and doesn't have the money to enroll into university. He is interested in entomology, he's always been captivated by these creatures that often provoke repulsion, he sometimes can't help but feel like one of them too. He has the ability to interact and get help from bugs and insects (kinda like in the first game as enki, but not limited in talking to them). He came back to Prehevil with the excuse of its unique ecosystem, many different types and species could be found there, but he knows that the horrid shirt hole that was Prehevil pulled him back as he hadn't entirely cut ties with the place, despite his desires of doing so. He couldn't name an honest, coherent reason himself.

Other general info abt him is that this guy was made with the purpose of giving Levi his very own Samarie boyfailure (of course he isn't a stalker, he's just pathetic for someone he loves) bc I got a bit too obsessed with him and decided to make an oc x canon situation.

He would CERTAINLY do anything for Levi, really. Love urself a bit more man. 😭

He feels guilty for thinking or fantasizing (not even in a sexual way, just like imagining scenarios about holding hands or cuddles) about his crushes because of what they did to him back in the orphanage.

I think he's bi, leaning towards men, and a hater too, he likes to talk shit about the people he dislikes.

I made him suffer a lot so in my mind they do end up together, he deserves that.

I also don't know what his soul could be.

[sweetlummie]

Sad Little Girl

Mood board by my lovey love @iamasaddie tysm 💗

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Joel Miller x fem!plus size!reader

A/n: hello everyone! I’m back with an actual fic! This one is near and dear to my heart and very personal to me, I hope you enjoy it! Big s/o to @xdaddysprincessxx for proofreading! Ilysm mama 💗💗💗 This fic was made with game!joel in mind! As always constructive criticism is welcome! Enjoy! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 🫶🫶💗💗 (reupload to see if it shows on tags bc tumblr is fucking me hardcore rn.)

Warnings: mentions of SA and heavy trauma, age gap (reader is in her 20s Joel is in his 50s), death of a loved one, also David is mentioned. If I missed any lmk!

W/c: 1.5k

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Growing up during the apocalypse wasn’t fun. There were many horrible, disgusting men that would do whatever they wanted. The need to survive set aside, they fucked with other people, especially women to get their twisted pleasure. You had fallen victim to that terrible abuse, but out of some sick and twisted mercy the most that had been done to you was being touched inappropriately and had a man expose himself to you. Worst of all? It was in your own home.

Your dad was a part of the smuggling circle and would often have his colleagues over to discuss routes, plans, and merchandise. One of his least trusted associates was the one that tortured you to no end. Because of that you didn’t feel like yourself, you didn’t feel like a girl. As the days passed you wore baggier clothing, you cut your hair to your shoulders, you bound your chest to get rid of any semblance to a woman. What also helped was that you were bigger than the average girl, you thought that maybe you looked broader, more like a male. This was how you coped, how you pushed everyone away.

When you found out your father died it was like a bucket of cold water to your skin. You didn’t know what you were gonna do or how you were gonna get by. A few days after you received the news about your father, there was a knock on your apartment door. Grabbing one of your father’s weapons you hesitantly opened it to find Joel Miller, your dad’s most trusted acquaintance. You lower your weapon and stepped aside to let him in.

“Hey bunny..” Joel began, you never understood why he called you that, based on your appearance you were nothing like a bunny. Not cute, not soft, not friendly.. You were the opposite. “Sorry ‘bout your dad.. Look, your pa on one occasion told me that if anythin’ were ta happen to ‘im for me to take care of ya.. Now I know you're a grown woman that can make her own decisions and take care of herself but I still wanted to offer ya a place to stay.. I know how awful solitude can be and I really care ‘bout ya..”

You had to process what he was telling you but you liked Joel, though you had some very negative interactions with men in the past, he was the only one you trusted aside from your father. You nodded your head in agreement and as the days and weeks progressed you moved your things little by little to his and Tess’ apartment.

You kept to yourself most of the time, mostly passing your time by drawing, reading, or listening to music when you didn’t work. Tess and Joel would sometimes let you go with them to their smuggling jobs but Joel would keep you close.

Joel noticed something was up with you, he noticed your change from the beginning. While your father thought nothing of it he noticed when his cheery-eyed bunny lost the spark in her eyes and became dull. He wanted to talk to your father about it but he felt like it wasn’t his place to say anything. He noticed how you presented yourself, manlier than you used to be and more quiet. Now this change he mentioned to your father.

“Hey man, I noticed somethin’ up with bunny.. Why she dressin’ like that suddenly? Seems like a drastic change..”

But your dad always brushed it off saying it was a phase that you were going through but Joel knew it was more than that.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

It had been a few months that you had been staying with Joel and Tess when one day after Joel and Tess went after Robert, Joel came back with a 14 year old girl named Ellie. You looked at Joel surprised and he pulled you aside to a room to talk about what was happening. He and Tess were going to deliver this girl to the fireflies at the capital and it wasn’t going to take them long.

“I wanna come.” you told Joel, he shook his head “Nah, just me ‘n Tess.. Too dangerous..” That answer didn’t satisfy you. “I’m coming with you. Whether you like it or not.” and you left to go where Ellie was. Joel chuckled lowly and shook his head again, he knew better than to argue with you, you were a little spitfire, just like your dad.

When your journey began you kept to yourself and only spoke if you heard something or needed something. Ellie tried to talk to you but you would only respond with a nod or a shake.

“What’s up with her.. Him? Nah her?” she asked Tess and Tess chuckled. “I don’t know, kid, she’s a nice lady, just quiet is all.” Joel took that chance to check up on you.

“Ya alright? Need anythin’?” you shook your head and Joel left you be.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Your trip had gone sour, Tess was dead and now you were on route to Lincoln. Tess’ death hit you hard but you know you have to be strong for both Ellie and Joel. After you had all processed her death you figured it would be best to open up now since it was only the three of you left. You began talking more and found that you shared a lot of things in common with Ellie. You two became quickly attached and while Joel did his best to ignore you both, being the ever stoic and grumpy man he is, he was still really happy that you opened up.

Little by little Joel noticed a positive change in you, the sparkle in your eyes was slowly returning and now you openly were conversing and laughing with both Joel and Ellie. Your progress was quickly squandered though when Joel got hurt and by events with David, a creepy school teacher turned psycho cult leader. You took care of Joel while weeping silently, you were scared you were gonna lose the man you trusted, the man you felt safe with. You know you should’ve gone hunting, you know what happened with Ellie is your fault. You both scrambled as you tried to lead David and his men as far away from Joel as possible. But in the end you both got caught. You and Ellie were held in different areas but you panicked as you saw the disgusting look in his eyes. You knew exactly what he wanted to do with you and especially Ellie.

After what happened with Ellie it triggered your PTSD and you just held Ellie as you both wept. You both had been fairly quiet on the trip to the hospital. It killed Joel to not just see one of his girls be quiet and devoid of life but both of them. Especially since you had come such a long way.

That night when Ellie slept he approached you and asked if you both could talk. You agreed and followed him a little away from the camp not to disturb Ellie’s sleep but still keeping a close eye on her.

“Bunny… I’m sorry ‘bout what happened.. you ‘n Ellie didn’t deserve that.. I shoulda been there to protect y’all..” of course Joel blamed himself when it wasn’t his fault at all.. with a sigh you begin to speak. “It’s not your fault Joel.. it’s mine.. I should’ve been more careful towards Ellie.. she.. we..” you burst out crying and for once you felt the warm embrace of someone who loved you. You would cry by yourself at nights, not wanting to disturb your dad with your seemingly insignificant issues.. but for once you cry and you just get held.. you craved that more than anything else.. as much as it pained you, you told Joel everything that happened in the QZ for years before your father died.. he clenched his jaw and held you tighter..

“I wish ya woulda said somethin’ bunny.. never liked that freak anyway.. woulda killed ‘em for ya..” Joel whispers as his lips pressed into your hair. You chuckled and just let the tears fall. It felt good to get it off your chest, to let Joel in.. you felt safe, you felt secure in his arms.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

When you return to Jackson, you’re a whole new person. You and Joel live together in a house while Ellie lives in her shed. You’ve begun to let your hair grow out again, decorating it with cute hair accessories you would find, you’re wearing pretty, fitting clothing, even dresses! Joel sees how brightly you’re shining. No longer are you the shy quiet girl that people assumed was a brute boy. You changed totally. You were truly beautiful in his eyes. You were thankful for Joel, he made you feel safe, he made you feel true peace. Enough to where you felt like you didn’t have to protect yourself anymore, enough to where you could finally be yourself and not worry about getting hurt. He would protect you, he would be there for you. You were his bunny, you finally felt at home.

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[mxtxfanatic]

Book of the Week: Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage

Author: Qian Shan Cha Ke (千山茶客)

Genre: ancient setting, josei

Rating: M (very mature, dark themes but not too graphic of depictions)

My Synopsis: What happens when a girl gets tired of being nice and decides to go apeshit? You get Shen Miao, our adorable 30+ year-old protagonist recently stuffed back into her 14-year-old self and ready to eat the flesh and drink the blood of her enemies! Using this new lease on life, she’ll methodically and maliciously ruin every antagonist’s life using the tools in her versatile skillset, including: knowledge of the future, a psychological understanding of assholes, weaponized gender stereotypes, and men. And lest we forget our love interest, Xie Jing Xing: the boy/man (cause god forbid the author know how old anyone BUT Shen Miao is…) who thought he had it all figured out until he discovered that Shen Miao is a horny drunk. See just how far they’ll go to bathe in the blood of their enemies while keeping their loved ones safe in this very long but extremely satisfying novel.

My Actual Review: It’s so satisfying to see a previously downtrodden character scheme her way into a happy ending, and Shen Miao fucking deserves it. Some reviews that I’ve seen have claimed that the LI eventually takes over her revenge schemes, but I didn’t see it. They just partner up and she uses his manpower to do what she wants. There are also places where their separate goals intersect, so it just makes more sense for him to do the cleanup. The thing about Shen Miao is that she has no issues with letting others do the work for her, especially if it’s against people she wasn’t invested in putting work against to begin with. It’s the empress in her, I fear. As for the main pair as a couple, I loved their every interaction, and their descent into romance felt natural and gratifying. Greatest thing about this romance is the fact that it truly kicks off because Xie Jing Xing did not know to guard against horny drunk Shen Miao lmao!

The translation is pretty good outside of some clunky grammar, but once you train your eyes to glaze over the the five-millionth time the translator inserts directly into the story to complain about how often the LI is described as hot (unlike every other character, I guess???) as if this book is their early 2000s fanfic, it gets even better! Another thing that may or may not be here nor there is that this author is really weird with age consistency. Like, “MC is forever un-aging while everyone else ages 2 years every few months” weird. Shen Miao is forever 14 until the time skip in which she is forever 16, while Xie Jing Xing goes from “the same age as the students” to “17/18ish” to “vaguely in his 20s” during the same course of time where we literally never see Shen Miao acknowledge a birthday in any year. As for more serious content warnings, this story involves underage relationships (including non-explicit sex, marriage, and pregnancy), rape as a weapon, (assumed) incest between cousins, child abuse, and described but not explicitly shown torture. Though there are some humorous parts, this is not a lighthearted story. Read if you want something dark with an ultimate happy ending.

Translation: complete

[golongbyjoannanewsom]

twin peaks, salò, and the human capacity for evil

i wanted to elaborate on how i think twin peaks and salò have similar things to say about the nature of evil and how it exists in society.

warning for discussion of csa, rape, incest, torture, murder

part one: fathers and daughters 

both twin peaks and salò portray evil as something that often comes from those one is closest to, the people who have power over others who are meant to be “protecting” them but in reality are being enabled to do the opposite. there’s a specific focus on the father-daughter relationship and the idea of patriarchal incest, which more broadly represents the idea of men in high places (fathers) abusing the more vulnerable members of society (women, young people) because it’s so easy for them to get away with without others noticing.

twin peaks centers around the murder of laura by her father leland, who had been sexually abusing her for years previously. it also has audrey and ben and their interaction at one eyed jack’s, where he tries to have sex with her not knowing he's his daughter. laura’s working at one eyed jack’s as a result of the abuse she’s suffered at leland’s hands serves as a sort of exchange in which she is given from one man to another. this calls to mind the beginning of salò, in which the fascist libertines marry each other’s daughters, participating in a similar act of exchange, though all four men go on to torture, abuse, and kill all four women. blood makes no difference here the way it did with ben horne, who was horrified to find out it had been audrey at one eyed jack’s. 

this abuse specifically happens to girls from “good” families, with ben being a wealthy businessman with a great deal of power in the town and leland being an upper middle class attorney. similarly, the daughters in salò all have fathers that hold positions of power, who remain unnamed throughout the film and are defined entirely by their titles. this suggests that no one is immune to such evil, that even those with seemingly comfortable lives, those lucky enough born into high places in society, can become victims. 

part two: masking techniques 

there’s often a tendency to portray evil as scary and menacing and serious, and both twin peaks and salò subvert this in similar ways, with some of the worst acts committed being juxtaposed with an unnatural lightness, a joke or a song. 

leland palmer in particular is often associated with music, singing and playing records and dancing with laura’s picture in a scene so absurd it begins to become funny rather than sad. windom earle, the villain in the second half of season 2, loves to play games with his victims, and clearly sees cruelty as a source of entertainment. similarly, the libertines in salò enjoy making jokes. after the first occurrence of rape at dinner, they begin to sing. the torture is clearly being done for their amusement, and there’s a ridiculousness to it that would make it funny if it wasn’t so serious. 

after leland kills maddy, he puts her body in the trunk of his car and begins to cheerfully drive around town humming “surrey with the fringe on top” from oklahoma! (i have a LOT i could say about this particular song choice, but i’ll leave it for another post). perhaps it’s the spirit of bob possessing him, but he is entirely unbothered by the murder he’s committed. to the audience, the singing feels wrong. how can he just go on like that?

similarly, salò ends with a musical moment closely following a scene of death. two teenage boys, accomplices in what has occurred, have just seen the victims be brutally murdered outside. seemingly unbothered, they put on a record, dance together, and indulge in casual conversation. there comes a point when evil has gotten deep enough inside someone that they feel no guilt. this is just like any other day. they can put on a song and enjoy it, forget what they’ve done entirely. 

part three: the spread of evil

during one of the dinner conversations in salò, the magistrate says “there’s nothing more contagious than evil.” as the film continues, this is proven true. the storytellers are a notable example, as these women were victims initially, brought into prostitution as children, but in their adulthood they have become enablers and perpetrators of violence, perhaps influenced by the evil that took place around them. similarly, one of the victims is later chosen to join the guards, and we see him dance in the final scene, showing no sympathy for those whose plight he once shared, having fully accepted the evil around him. 

in twin peaks, we see this contagious nature of evil portrayed through bob. leland speaks of being tormented by bob as a child, suggesting that he may have been a victim himself before he began to rape and abuse his daughter. bob wants to take control of laura as well, and she spends the majority of fire walk with me trying to avoid this fate. season two ends with bob finding a new host in dale cooper, a man who, until that point, had been one of the most unquestionably good characters in the show. his transformation suggests that the capacity for evil exists within all people, and no one is truly immune to its spread.  

part four: death as resistance 

if all people can become evil when exposed to it enough, what way is there to resist it other than death? in both works, death is the only form of true resistance the victims have against the abuse they face.

laura's death at the end of fire walk with me is a tragedy, but it is also a choice. her refusal to submit to bob, to allow herself to become the evil that has tormented her for her entire life, is the reason behind her death. if she can't resist him, she'll die, and exit to world in which he holds power, freeing herself. in the end, laura sees the angel, showing that she has finally escaped the world of evil and that by resisting in the only way she could, she has proven herself good.

salò's primary act of resistance also ends in death. a sequence at the beginning of the third act shows the victims turning on each other, revealing the forbidden things others have been doing in hopes of saving themselves. this ends with the reveal that ezio, one of the guards, has been having an affair with the maid. rather than attempt to justify his actions or expose someone else, he raises his fist in a socialist salute before being killed. this is the only moment in salò during which we see anything truly bother the fascists in power, and his resulting death is simple and fast rather than drawn out and torturous.

when faced with evil, if one is not willing to refuse completely, even risking death, the result is more drawn out suffering, or the potential of succumbing to it. because in both cases, evil does not come from any one person but rather from the world which condones it, ignores it, allows it to spread.

[ckret2]

What would be Bill's hobbies in the nightmare realm? Like ok he's been there for a million years, what would he do? Aside from partying, ruling and planning world domination?

Hate to nitpick—but one trillion years. To me the difference isn't a trivial "okay they're both impossibly big numbers" if we're considering what Bill's life must have been like; because one million years ago, humans had already evolved. One TRILLION years is 72 times longer than our entire universe has existed. We're talking about a life where for most of his existence, the universe he would ultimately try to conquer—much less the species that would help him do it—didn't even exist yet.

But to the actual question:

Genuinely I think partying took up most of his free time lmao. Maybe not at the start; but over time, getting absolutely smashed and "having fun" would have become an essential strategy to hold on to what was left of his fraying mental health, so it probably became more and more of his schedule while he waited for an in to a universe. And it combines several of his top hobbies: socializing, meeting people, dancing, substance abuse... But even something that takes "most of his free time" could leave billions of years unaccounted for, SO:

I mentioned yesterday that meditation is one of his unexpected hobbies. It's useful for refining his dream demon skills & various other psychic tricks; but mostly it's just, if you can drop into a trance for a thousand, a million, a billion years, then that's a lot of waiting & boredom you can just skip.

He's got a lot of eyes in other dimensions. It's like television to him.

He's unable to visit other dimensions before his portal is built, but he is able to visit other dimensions' mindscapes. He can't interact with things, but he can look around like an invisible tourist, and he can invade people's dreams.

We see what looks like weirdness bubbles scattered all around the Nightmare Realm in Don't Dimension It. I headcanon that Bill didn't just invent them on the spot in Weirdmageddon, he made them ahead of time in the Nightmare Realm; and thus that they probably take some time and skill to create. He doesn't control the end result but he can influence it based on what materials he puts in and how he creates it, kind of like an acrylic dirty pour painting. It's like art to him. He's proud of it.

He's never had higher education but he's book-read and self-taught on a wide variety of subjects. At bare minimum, every time he sees a new universe and goes "maybe I can conquer this," he has to teach himself that universe's rules of physics (often before a species in that universe has evolved enough to study it themselves), and one of the intelligent species's available engineering capabilities and native languages, all so that he can translate his portal blueprints into a form someone in that universe can build. That adds up to learning a LOT of languages, engineering, and physics. Ours is far from the first dimension he tried to conquer. Plus throw in all the other stuff he's probably learning on the side while trying to get something going with a new species: local politics, religion, chemistry, biology, pop culture...

He DID pick up piano at some point. Probably not the only instrument he's learned. I headcanon piano is conceptually similar to an instrument in his home dimension.

He likes playing games. Sometimes games of skill, because dice rolls and card draws would be easy to manipulate & cheat in a dreamscape; but sometimes games of chance, because he wants to cheat lol. He's not athletically inclined, so his preference is board games, card games, word games, pen-and-paper games, video games, etc.

Any time something falls into the Nightmare Realm, he can sense it; sometimes he goes and checks out the new arrival. It can be anything from objects (new stuff to scavenge through) to people (new friends and/or torture toys and/or networking opportunities) to whole worlds (there's a LOT of fun you can have with a planet—especially a populated one).

He spends a lot of time cultivating mini-cults and pockets of worship toward him amongst alien species. He claims this is all in service to his ultimate conquest plans, but honestly, he just really likes being worshiped.

There were a few survivors of Bill's home dimension. Not many, with a starting population of billions (and that's not even counting alien life); but a few thousand. Most of them ultimately moved to other dimensions and tried to start new societies. Early on, Bill tried to keep in contact with them, and that took up a fair amount of his time; but as they rejected him or he rejected them, he cut them off. Now the only people from or descended from his universe that he still talks to are the shapes in the Henchmaniacs.

Imagine if all the oceans on Earth were ruled over by a single pirate king, and also he knows any time something—from a cargo ship to a surfer—enters his domain, and he COULD just teleport to where they are and wreck their day if he wants to; so any nation that wants to safely ship goods or maintain a navy has to bargain with the pirate king; but also the pirate king is an immature clown who's easily flattered and distracted by shiny toys. That's the relationship Bill has to other dimensions. For cultures that have discovered interdimensional travel, transit through the Nightmare Realm COULD be very useful... if it weren't for this one guy who's somehow borderline omnipotent within the NR but can't leave it. So Bill spends a lot of time politicking and bartering with neighboring dimensions that don't trust him, know he'll violate treaties on a whim, but nevertheless need access to his realm.

There's also some uneasy politicking and socializing with the few powerful entities that Bill thinks might be able to wreck his day but isn't quite foolhardy enough to test, like the Axolotl.

Sometimes he just makes stuff that sounds cool. He made the Quadrangle of Qonfusion. (Amorphous Shape helped, they're better at the architecture side of things.) He also sometimes just goes and gets stuff that strikes his fancy, like his throne made of optical illusions. The Nightmare Realm is riddled with unfinished projects and impulse purchases.

[until-another-one-comes]

After reading a bunch of headcannons, I decided to make my own serial killer Francis AU. This goes hand in hand with my dead on the outside and inside Francis headcanon.

So serial killer Francis doesn’t kill often. Just for a long period of time before he targets his next victim. His murder weapons are inconsistent. He could either use a knife, a meat cleaver anything to get the job done. He has killed a total of 23 people so far.

Francis primary targets cheating housewives/women who lure him into their houses to have an affair while their husbands are away. He doesn’t care for them a bit. In fact, they’re a nuisance to him. This is because in my headcanon he had an abusive father who would frequently cheat on his mom. (His father was his first victim but that’s a different story). In a way, Francis is taking out his anger on his dead father by allowing himself to be swayed by those cheating housewives and kill them. He wants to punish them for their disloyalty in their own relationship. Francis had become somewhat of a misanthrope growing up. And he gets a twisted sense of euphoria of ending someone’s relationship with his own hands, with the surviving spouse grieving over their lover. The rest of his victims happen to be witnesses who walked in on the murder scene at the wrong time. It’s usually his victim’s husbands. Children aren’t an exception either.

His modus operandi is after his victims bring him into their houses, Francis will pin them down, mutilate their bodies to torture them until they die in a pool of their own blood. This Francis is a sadistic bastard in this one because he loves hearing the screams of his victims while he murders them. Afterwards Francis will kill any witnesses, clean himself up and pin the blame of a doppelgänger attack. He hasn’t been caught yet and Francis is glad he got away with it all.

There was one exception however: Nacha. At the time, she just moved into Francis’s apartment. She was unmarried but looking for love. She saw Francis one day and decided to be friendly with him. Francis however, just brushed her off as another nuisance but he can’t comprehend why Nacha was nice to someone like her. After a few more interactions, Francis gradually warmed up to Nacha a bit and they both had a fling together. But the night after their fling, Nacha began avoiding him. Francis couldn’t tell why but he felt like she disappointed him. At first, Francis planned to kill her but he slowly began to care for her but she ruined that for him after she distanced herself from him. He was *this* close to actually caring for Nacha and almost killing her because after the affair, he had feelings of love and hate towards her. He couldn’t tell which but in the end, he decided to leave her alone. Even if he had the chance to kill her, he’d be too obvious of a suspect since they’re both neighbours.

Nacha began distancing herself from Francis because she saw the red flags on him from a mile away. Francis was cold and incompatible with her, not to mention that he said very questionable things that made her wonder if the man she’s with is a psychopath. So the night after that fling, Nacha became afraid of Francis and stopped talking to him. But that’s until she found out she’s pregnant with Anastacha.

Years after Anastacha was born, Francis can get the hint that he’s her daughter. He did confront Nacha about it. After an awkward conversation, Francis decided to leave both of them alone. He did wanted to try to interact with Anastacha but Nacha wouldn’t allow her to interact with her father because she had a sneaking suspicion that he was toxic. In the end, Francis let go of any chance he had of being in his daughter’s life because he knew he’s not a good person and can’t be a good parent either.

What are your thoughts?

AH I remember you! Hello!

Your serial killer Francis reminds me of what I *thought* Francis was going to be before playing the game.

HUH, I like how you incorporate the 'milkman sleeps with married women' thing into his murder method.

This is probably why his doppel is blood-covered...

I like his backstory with Nacha in here. Its not really my thing but I do find it interesting. Wouldn't Nacha try and find another place to live considering she knows something is up with him?