#but i think i should start with just a mod first maybe

[chongoblog]

Oh no I just had a sick idea for a Slay the Spire mod….

[girlb0yfriend]

dragon age update!! finished origins for the second time ever :3

[cookiescribble]

Show Me How To Be Whole Again

A/N: hi everyone! This is the fic I've been working on for eight months 😮‍💨. I hope it came out as well as I hoped it would 😅 - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Spencer is abducted, you rush to the team to make sure you're there when they find him. After you get home, Spencer's behavior starts to get more and more concerning, and you're desperate for answers. (based on 2x15 and the aftermath of that episode)

Word Count: 7.1k

CW: Mentions of abduction, violence, drug addiction, withdrawal, arguing. some angst in the middle but i am incapable of writing something without a happy ending.

~~~~~

The call came early in the morning. They said they called you as soon as they could. 

If you were thinking rationally, or if you could stand being alone for 5 minutes after hearing the news, maybe you would’ve stayed home. But you couldn’t stay put knowing Spencer was in trouble. 

You quickly threw a few days’ worth of clothes in a carry-on bag and took the first flight out of the nearest airport. You were trying so hard to keep yourself together and not break down crying on a crowded airplane, but the thoughts just kept rushing in your head. You were so worried about him. 

When you landed, you called the team and told them you were going to the police station and you were going to stay there until they found him. You wouldn’t let anyone argue with you. You wouldn’t be able to calm down until they found him anyway, so being anywhere else didn’t make sense. 

You didn’t really think of what you’d do when you got there. You’d just been on autopilot since you got the call. You were hoping someone would meet you there. 

When you frantically burst through the doors of the police station, JJ was standing there waiting for you. You dropped your bag and hugged her tight. 

“It was my fault,” she choked out, sobbing. “We were together and… we split up… I shouldn’t have split up…”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, you’re not the one who abducted him. It’s not your fault.” You were also sobbing now. You tried taking deep breaths to calm yourself, but all you could think about was what could possibly be happening to Spencer right now. 

You calmed down enough to ask, “Where is everybody else?”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath herself. “We set up at the unsub’s house. He took Spence to a secondary location, and Garcia set up there to get to his computers.” She looked down. “I really should be getting back there.”

You nodded while she talked. “I’m coming with you,” you announced. 

She looked at you, concerned. “We can’t risk you-“

You cut her off. “I am coming with you. I’m staying with you until we find him,” you stated forcefully. 

She didn’t argue further. She could see the desperation in your eyes, you’re sure. Even someone who didn’t analyze behavior for a living could see that. “Alright. Let’s go.”

…

You arrived at the house. You couldn’t tell how long the car ride took; every second felt like an hour. 

When everybody saw you, they took turns giving you a hug. You could tell they were concerned that you were here, but they could see how devastated you were. You think they understood. 

You hung around while they all did their jobs and tried to find Spencer. You sat next to Penelope and watched as she tried to do whatever she could to help find him. 

Time passed. The team was coming in and out of the room as they needed to. Derek was probably in here the most, giving his moral support to Penelope. 

Suddenly, the monitors in front of you lit up. 

“What‘s happening?” Derek asked. 

“I… don’t know,” Penelope answered. 

Your heart dropped as an image popped up on the screen. 

It was Spencer. He was sitting in a chair, his hands tied together. He was wearing the clothes you watched him pack on the morning you last saw him. 

He looked so scared. 

“Guys! Get in here!” you heard Derek yell. 

You couldn’t look away from the screen. 

The rest of the team rushed in, faces dropping as they saw what was happening. 

Someone was talking in the background of the stream. You couldn’t hear them. Your heart was thumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. Spencer was replying to whatever they were saying. Through your loud heartbeat, you could hear his trembling voice. Your eyes started to water. 

After a few moments, you heard someone near you say something and suddenly you were being pulled away from the screen and into another room. 

When you realized what was happening, you looked up to see Hotch holding your shoulders, pushing you away from the horrific scene unfolding on the monitors. 

You started sobbing. “I have to see him,” you tried to say, but your voice was cracking. 

“No. You saw that he’s alive. That’s all you need to see.” he said firmly. He was protecting you from seeing something that would truly break you. 

You couldn’t argue. What you saw shook you to your very core; you couldn’t go back in there. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded. “You’re going to find him and bring him back safe.” It wasn’t a question. You knew they’d find him. They had to. 

You took a step back, telling Hotch he could go back to the team in the other room, and that you were okay out here.

You sat at a table, laying your head down and covering it with your arms. You had started crying, and you couldn’t stop. How could they do this to him? He’s never done anything to hurt anybody. All he does is help people. How could someone look at him and feel anything other than warmth, comfort, and love?

You heard footsteps come into the room. The girls came in and sat around you. You picked your head up to look at them, your eyes already swollen from crying so much. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically. Your heart was racing again. 

“He’s okay,” Emily said quickly. “He’s alive. The unsub… made him choose a victim to keep alive, but there’s going to be more victims… and then the camera cut off.” She took a deep breath. “It looked like making that decision let him live.”

You buried your face in your hands. This was so cruel. you knew he dealt with bad people every day, but… this was so heartbreaking. How could someone feel so little remorse for other human beings that they force an innocent person to decide someone’s fate?

You took deep breaths to try not to cry again. “I can tell he’s in so much pain right now… He’s going to blame himself for all those people’s deaths. The guilt is going to eat him up inside. He’ll feel horrible even if he does make it out of this.”

Everyone took turns patting your back to reassure you. “He is going to make it out of this. He’ll be home soon.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to believe it. You had to believe it. If you didn’t believe it… you would break down more than you ever have before. 

…

You stayed in that room for what felt like an eternity. The team took turns keeping you company when they weren’t busy. They gave you vague updates to let you know that Spencer was still alive. They didn’t tell you details of what they saw. You didn’t ask. Seeing the somber looks on their faces told you all you needed to know.

Eventually, everyone came rushing out of the room, putting on their coats and practically running out the door. Penelope came to sit with you, her eyes wide and full of hope. “They found where he is. They’re going to him now.” She hugged you tightly. “He’s going to be okay.”

Tears leaked out of your eyes again. This time they were happy tears. The immense rush of relief you felt was enough to render you speechless for a while, until you finally choked out, “They’re going to call us when he’s safe?” She nodded eagerly and you let out a huge sigh of relief. 

The wait felt like forever. You were still nervous. What if they don’t get to him in time? What if they’re just barely too late?

Finally, finally Penelope’s phone rang. She answered quickly, nodding at what she was hearing. Eventually she hung up and looked at you, smiling. “He’s with them now. The unsub is dead. They’re rushing an ambulance but his injuries seem minor considering… what’s been happening.”

You closed your eyes and took another big sigh of relief. “I’m going to meet the ambulance there,” you declared.

Penelope looked at you quizzically. “I don’t know if-“

“You said the unsub is dead,” you cut her off. “There’s no more danger. I’m going to him.” You saw keys to one of the FBI vehicles that was left over since they had multiple people to a van. You picked them up and tossed them to Penelope. “You know their coordinates. You drive.”

She caught the keys and nodded at you, unable to argue with your logic. You both rushed out to the van and sped over to the location. 

You saw the ambulance as you arrived there. You barely waited for Penelope to put the car in park before you were running out the door to where the ambulance had parked. 

You saw Spencer sitting at the edge of the back of the ambulance with a first aid blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was beaten up, but he was still conscious and alert. You were relieved his injuries weren’t worse. 

“Spencer!” you shouted as you ran towards him. He looked your way, his eyes widening as he saw you. 

You threw your arms around his shoulders when you reached him. His shock quickly turned to something softer as he relaxed into your arms, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You nestled your face into his neck for a few moments, unable to stop your sobs of joy. “Oh, sweetie…” you cooed into his ear. 

He moved so his forehead was touching yours. Tears were streaking down his face. “I’m sorry…” he started. 

You shook your head vigorously. “No apologies. You’re okay now.” You kissed him on the forehead gently and threaded your fingers in his hair “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He nodded and tightened his grip on you, kissing you firmly. He kissed you for a long time before finally pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled warmly, whispering back to him. “I love you, too.”

You stayed like that for a few moments before everyone started pushing Spencer to get in the ambulance so he could go to the hospital. You rode with him, of course. You held his hand the whole way there. 

He wasn’t in the hospital for too long. They were able to treat his wounds relatively easily. The team waited in the waiting room while you followed him into the examination room. 

When you came back to the waiting room, hand in hand, everyone rushed to greet you before you all headed to the jet. 

You sat in the corner of the couch to the side of the other seats, motioning for Spencer to lay his head in your lap. He followed eagerly, curling up on his side and nestling his head in your lap. 

You ran your fingers through his curls as he began to fall asleep. He must’ve been exhausted. You couldn’t imagine him sleeping during any of that. 

You stayed like that the whole ride home, him asleep and you petting his hair softly. 

You gently woke him up when you landed. “C’mon, baby. We’re going home.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. You kissed his cheek before standing up, taking his hand as you went to the parking lot. He obviously wasn’t in any condition to drive, so he handed you the keys to his car and let you drive home. You insisted on stopping and getting some food on the way back. He said he didn’t feel hungry, but once he started eating, it seemed like he’d never stop. He must’ve been starving.

When you walked into your apartment, he grabbed you and hugged you tightly to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, relaxing into him. 

“I missed you so much.�� He was crying again, sniffling softly. “I thought about you every waking moment. I knew I had to make it through because you were waiting for me.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. 

“I missed you too,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes with a soft expression. “I knew you were going to make it back.” You hugged him tight again. “I didn’t see everything. The team… made sure I didn’t see anything that was going to hurt me.”

He nodded, leaning down to stroke your cheek gently with his thumb. “I’m glad you didn’t have to see me like that.” He touched his forehead to yours. “What matters now is that I’m here with you.” He kissed you slowly, pushing your hair out of your face. 

You kissed for a long time, slowly making your way to your bedroom. You smiled up at him after a while. “As much as I would love to continue this…” You gestured to the bed. “You need to sleep.”

As if to prove your point, he let out a quiet yawn. You smiled as he sat down at the edge of the bed. You grabbed his pajamas from the drawer and helped him get changed and settled into bed. 

He lay his head on your chest and you stroked his hair gently, just like you did the whole way home. “Go to sleep, baby,” you whispered as his eyes closed. After a moment you heard his breathing slow as he fell asleep. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head before relaxing to fall asleep yourself.   

…

After that night, things got… bad. 

Spencer wasn’t acting like himself anymore. He was… distant. Cold. He had never acted this way towards you before. Or anyone, for that matter. 

You had never had a problem with intimacy before, but suddenly he refused to touch you. Any time you would reach for his hand, or try to put your arm around him, he’d just shrug you off of him and move away from you. It always ended in you mumbling an apology and putting some space between you. 

He never explained why he didn’t want you to touch him. In fact, he didn’t talk a whole lot anymore. You often sat in silence, completely apart from each other. You always used to be able to count on him to fill these silences, but now he just stayed quiet. 

When he did talk, he was a lot more cold to you than he used to be. You had never fought before, but now it felt like any time he talked it was to argue with you about something. It felt like he was always angry lately. 

He didn’t even like to sleep in the same bed as you anymore. Most nights, if not every night, he slept on the couch. You started begging him, telling him that you would never cross over your side of the bed, but he shrugged you off saying he just needed to be alone.

All of this was really taking a toll on you. You tried not to show it, because you knew he was going through a hard time, so you only let your feelings out in places you could be alone. Which meant you spent a lot of time crying in the bathroom.

This went on for months. You thought that, surely, he had to tell you what was going on eventually. He had never hidden anything from you before, so you didn’t really know what to do, or how to handle this. You didn’t want to push him into talking about things he didn’t want to talk about, but something was very clearly wrong. 

After a particularly bad argument one night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go to someone about this. For Spencer’s sake.

The next morning, you set an extra early alarm, quietly getting dressed and tiptoeing past Spencer, who was asleep on the couch, and silently leaving your apartment. 

As you got in your car and started driving, you started arguing with yourself in your head. Part of your brain was trying to say that this wasn’t going to help, and that this was just like being a little kid and tattling to a teacher. But the emotional part of your brain was saying that just telling anyone would be able to help Spencer. And that little shred of hope was all it took to convince you to do this.

You shoved open the doors to the BAU, hoping that Spencer’s stories about his boss barely leaving his office were true. When you looked around, you saw an office with a light on, making you breathe a sigh of relief.

You bound up the stairs, knocking on the office door, a little more forcefully than you had intended. Hopefully it would help get your emotions across.

“Come in,” a familiar voice ordered. 

You took a deep breath before opening the door, seeing Hotch sitting at his desk with a bunch of paperwork in front of him. You wondered just how much paperwork this job required, and if he was always here hours before everyone else.

He looked surprised to see you. He would probably be surprised to see anyone at this early hour, but considering you don’t even work for him, he probably wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of you coming here. “Is there something I can help you with?” He asked. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You didn’t really think this far; you just figured that surely someone who works so closely with Spencer had to know something, especially since he was a profiler. 

You thought about everything that had happened in the last few months, trying to find the right words to properly articulate your concerns. But all the thoughts about Spencer pushing you away and refusing your affection, mixed with remembering what your relationship was like before that fateful night of his abduction, overwhelmed your mind so much that you just couldn’t stop your emotions flowing out. Tears welled in your eyes before starting to streak down your face. Here you were, in Hotch’s office, completely unannounced and uninvited, and you were just standing there crying.

After a few moments of crying, and of Hotch looking very concerned at this scene playing out before him, you decided it didn’t matter that you couldn’t form the perfect words. You just needed to say something. 

Through choked sobs, you finally managed to blurt out, “What’s wrong with Spencer?”

Hotch looked at you, his expression as unreadable as always. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, too emotional to think about how you shouldn’t be saying all of this to your boyfriend’s boss. The words just started coming out in a rush. “Something’s wrong. We had never had a single argument before, and now the only time he ever talks to me is to pick a fight. He’s never present, he barely speaks, which I’m sure I don’t have to tell you is very strange behavior for Spencer. He never smiles anymore, he won’t let me touch him anymore, he won’t sleep in our bed anymore, he only sleeps on the couch…” 

You covered your eyes with your hands, trying to stop the tears from coming out. Finally, after some shaky breaths, you finished by saying, “I just wanted to know if there’s anything you could tell me about this. If you know why he’s acting this way. If there’s something he’s not telling me.”

Hotch hesitated before gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “Do you want to take a seat?”

You looked at the chair, and you noticed you were shaking. You nodded, and sat down in the chair, trying to calm down. But you couldn’t help being extremely restless, your leg bouncing rapidly while you sat.

Hotch leaned forward, moving some paperwork out of the way and placing his hands on his desk. His expression was slightly softened. “Working in this field, you go through a lot of traumatic things. Reid’s abduction was one of the worst things an agent can go through.” His voice was low and steady, which was a welcome contrast to how frantic your own words had come out. “Anyone would struggle after that.”

You sighed. “I know, but-”

He raised his hand to cut you off. “That being said, we’ve all been able to tell that Reid has been a little off.” He saw you raise your eyebrow and added, “Okay, a lot off.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “We have some… theories, but we can’t know for sure what’s happening with him unless he tells us. And since he’s already struggling, we didn’t want to make it worse, especially since he’s technically just a subordinate or coworker. But if he’s not telling you either…” He looked at you sympathetically. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “... Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m so sorry I came here out of the blue.” You stood up, taking a step forward as if you were going to hug him, but for once your rational thoughts took over and you stayed where you were.

He stood up after you. “You’re welcome. It couldn’t have been easy to come here and talk about this.” He reached out to shake your hand, and when you shook his hand back he put his other hand over yours and spoke softly to you. “I’m going to try to get through to him. I promise.”

His gentle hands and soft-spoken words were enough to reassure you, at least for now. You nodded, thanking him again before leaving his office. You were able to leave with a lot more composure than you came here with.

It was getting late by the time you left Hotch’s office, and there were a lot more people here now. As you came down the stairs, you looked up to see Spencer staring at you. He wasn’t angry, thankfully, but he looked… kind of dumbfounded. Which made sense. You had no reason to be here at all, let alone a reason to be talking to his boss.

As you walked towards him to get to the door to leave, he turned to you. “Hey…” he started, his voice soft.

You didn’t know what to say, his soft voice sounding nothing like what you’ve been hearing these past few months. So you just kind of waved to him awkwardly, pointing to your watch to indicate that you had to get to work, and you left the BAU. 

When you got back in your car, you took a few minutes to process everything that had happened. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to convince yourself that everything was okay. You believed Hotch when he said he’d help. It felt like Spencer was in capable hands.

…

Later that day, you had been in the bathroom when Spencer came home, and you didn’t hear the door open and close. When you came out, you saw him standing awkwardly in the front of your apartment. It made you jump a little bit. “Hi… I didn’t know you were home,” you muttered awkwardly.

He stood there looking at you, his eyes moving a little as if he was thinking of what to say. After a few moments, instead of saying anything, he walked over to you and hugged you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

You just froze for a moment, not sure how to react. But he kept his tight hold on you, as if you were the only thing keeping him up right now, and you finally started to hug him back just as tightly. You both just stood like that for a few minutes, holding each other.

Finally, he spoke up. His voice was soft, barely a whisper, and he sounded so fragile. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He was starting to cry now, making soft sobbing sounds into your shoulder.

Hearing him cry broke something in you, and shortly you were also in tears. “Oh, Spence…” You squeezed him a little tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “It’s okay…”

He sniffled and shook his head, pulling back a little so he could look you in the eyes. “My behavior has been abhorrent lately. I’ve been struggling, and I’ve been bottling everything up. I didn’t realize just how much this was hurting you.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep up with his thoughts. “I guess I figured, if I didn’t tell you about my problems, then they couldn’t affect you. But I was wrong. It just made it worse.”

You looked at him sadly, one of your hands moving to gently stroke his hair. “You can always come to me with anything. I’ll always try to help you. You know that.”

Some more tears started falling down his cheeks, and you started to wipe them away with your thumb. “I guess I felt like… I didn’t deserve the help.” He took a few shaky breaths as he tried to calm down. “Like I didn’t deserve you being so nice to me.”

“Spencer…” you started, trying to make your voice sound as soothing as possible. “What’s wrong? What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “I… I don’t know if I can talk about it yet. But I promise I’ll tell you soon.” He looked at you determinedly. “Until then, I promise I’m going to try to be better to you.” As if to prove his point, he grabbed your face and captured your lips in a soft kiss, making your heart flutter.

After years of dating, you didn’t think you’d feel that flustered, shy feeling of butterflies in your stomach again. But, after these past few months of having no physical contact, this kiss almost felt like it was your first kiss all over again.

You couldn’t help but hold the back of his head to try to bring his face even closer to yours. You were craving his touch, and you needed his affection. On the off chance that this was a one-time thing, and that he would start to distance himself again after this, you figured you had to make it last.

He showed no signs of letting up, though, moving you both so you were laying on the couch, with him hovering over you. His lips never left yours the whole time, and his hands were moving around your face as if he was trying to remember what it felt like. 

He broke the kiss to look at you, before closing his eyes. His hands trailed from your face down to your neck, moving slightly under your shirt to your shoulders. He wasn’t just touching you, he was feeling you. As if feeling your skin would jog his memory of you. His breathing was soft and even as his hands moved down to your hips, his fingers gentle and slow on your waist as he started to lift your shirt up. 

Your breath hitched when you felt cold air suddenly hit your stomach. “Spence…” you spoke quietly, a soft blush on your face. 

He looked at you, his voice quick and reassuring. “I don’t want to do anything like… that. It would be a little too much for me right now.” He quickly flashed you that awkward little smile he had sometimes. “I just want to see you, to feel you.” His voice went a little quieter when he added, “I missed you.”

You looked at him sadly, reaching up to touch his face. “I missed you, too.” You leaned in to kiss him again. “I missed you so much.”

The soft, slow kissing resumed, and Spencer very carefully pulled your shirt over your head, his hands gently gliding over the newly exposed skin. You let out a dreamy sigh. You hadn’t realized just how touch starved you had been over these past few months. This is exactly what you had been needing. 

You just stayed on the couch like that for a while, his lips and hands on you, the gentlest of touches. After a little while longer, you started to unbutton his shirt, because you wanted to do the same to him.

He completely froze, sucking in a breath. You immediately pulled your hands away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You trailed off, worried that you just ruined any progress that had been made tonight. 

He shook his head, sitting up and pulling you up with him. “It’s okay, I just… I don’t want you to see me with my shirt off.” He looked at you with pleading eyes, as if he was begging you not to ask about it. 

You hesitated, but instead of asking about it you tried to be a little more lighthearted. “I’ve seen you without a shirt plenty of times, Spencer.” 

He gave you a slight smile before the worried look came back to his face. “I just…” he started, “I can’t right now. Please understand.”

You nodded, taking his hand and giving it a slight squeeze. “I understand.” You stroked his hand gently with your thumb. “I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You can trust me.”

He squeezed your hand back, giving you another little smile. “I know you won’t. I do trust you.” He let out a little yawn and started to rub his eyes. 

You looked at the clock, not realizing how late it had gotten. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” You leaned over to kiss his forehead. “You should get some sleep.”

You worried he would still insist on sleeping on the couch, but he just nodded, his hand still tightly holding yours as you both stood up and walked to your bedroom. He grabbed his pajamas and headed to the bathroom to change.

You sat on the bed and watched him for a few moments before he closed the door. You started to get dressed yourself, wondering what this problem was about. He had been a little shy around you when you two first started getting intimate, but you thought he had gotten over that. Had these past few months apart made the shyness come back?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Spencer coming back into the room. You stood up so he could get in bed. He looked so tired; you could see just how bad the dark circles under his eyes were.

He crawled under the covers, curling up and closing his eyes. You got in the other side of the bed, gently rubbing his back to soothe him. You didn’t want to push any boundaries, so you pulled away after just a moment.

He turned around, looking at you with those big eyes of his, and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath, as if soothed by your touch. You smiled softly. He looked more peaceful than you had seen him in a long time. It made it easier to close your eyes and relax.

It was silent for a while, and you thought he had fallen asleep. But then, you heard him speak very softly. “I love you.”

You opened your eyes to see him looking back at you. You squeezed his hand gently. “I love you too.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead, making him smile. “Get some sleep. I can tell you need it,” you whispered.

He nodded and closed his eyes again, moving a little closer to you before wrapping his arms around you and nestling his head in your neck. You hesitated for a moment in shock before cradling him in your arms. You kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight, baby,” you whispered to him. Soon, you could hear his breathing soften, and you just listened to the quiet sounds of him sleeping for a few more moments before falling asleep yourself.

…

Things didn’t magically get better after that, but they did improve. 

Spencer went back to sleeping in your bed, though he seemed to have a hard time sleeping nowadays. He was always tossing and turning, and you usually woke up in the middle of the night to either try to soothe him to sleep or to keep him company when he couldn’t sleep. 

There was a lot more talking, and a lot less fighting. You could have more comfortable conversations, and he would politely tell you when he didn’t feel like talking. It was a lot better than him yelling at you to leave him alone. 

There was still some arguing, but usually only when you were trying to get him to eat. He was always saying he wasn’t hungry, and you had to try to push to get him to eat, saying he needed some kind of nutrition. Sometimes he would snap at you, saying he would eat if he was hungry and that he didn’t push you when you didn’t want to eat. He’d always apologize, though, and try his best to explain that he was either feeling nauseous or he just didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. It seemed to get a little better after a few days.

He didn’t mind a little more physical contact. He wasn’t always up for it, but he didn’t seem to mind it as much. It was always trial and error, almost like trying to pet a skittish cat. You’d start by putting a gentle hand on his, and he’d tense up for a second, and he’d either pull away and explain he didn’t want to be touched, or he’d take your hand and hold it gently. A big improvement. It was just little touches: holding hands, an arm around his shoulder, a hug… it never went past that.

He didn’t talk about what it was that was bothering him at first, but you trusted that he would tell you when he was ready. After about a week, he was finally ready to talk about it.

…

You both were sitting on the couch, in one of your quiet moments. You were reading a book, like you usually did when Spencer felt like being quiet. The silences were starting to get more comfortable, making it easier to just do quiet activities next to each other.

After a few minutes, Spencer cleared his throat, making you look over at him. You bookmarked the page you were on and turned to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how to start this conversation. He closed his eyes for a moment to put his thoughts together, before opening them again to look at you. He spoke very softly.

“When I was…” he started, swallowing and taking a deep breath to compose himself before continuing, “... When I was abducted for those few days back in February, a lot happened. The man who took me had dissociative identity disorder, and dealing with all his personalities was difficult. But there was one of his personalities that was… nicer than the others. More helpful than harmful.” He closed his eyes again, and you knew this was really hard for him to talk about. You placed a gentle hand over his, and he let out a breath, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. He continued on, his voice still soft and sad.

“Unfortunately, one of the ways that he helped me was to… give me something to help numb the pain the others were causing.” He closed his eyes again, and he slowly rolled up his sleeves for you to see his arms.

You stared in shock. His arms were covered in needle marks. You covered your mouth. “Oh, Spencer…” You looked back up at his face, but his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he didn’t want to face this. You squeezed his hand to let him know you were here to support him.

“He would come to me saying Dilaudid helped with the pain, and after a few times, it started to feel… good.” He took another deep breath, his eyes still closed. “After he died, I took the bottles he still had. And when things started getting hard to handle… all the flashbacks and memories of what happened to me, I just needed to numb myself. And it worked, for a while. But eventually, I just… couldn’t stop.”

“Spencer…” you started, your voice gentle. “You could’ve come to me, I could’ve tried to help you-”

“I didn’t want that,” he cut you off. “I tried to convince myself that what I was doing wasn’t wrong. That it was just medicine that was helping me. But, obviously, I knew that wasn’t the truth. And I knew that if I told anyone about it, they would say I needed help. But I didn’t want help. I just wanted to live in this unrealistic world where everything I was doing was fine.” He finally opened his eyes to look at you. “That’s why I was lashing out. I didn’t want anyone to help me, and I also felt like I didn’t deserve anyone being nice to me.”

He looked at you very seriously. “I thought, if I didn’t tell you any of this, it couldn’t hurt you. I know how sensitive you are to other people’s emotions and problems, so I figured if I didn’t tell you, you couldn’t worry about me. Obviously, I was wrong, and that was a naive way of thinking.” He reached out and gently touched your face. “When I saw you at the BAU, I knew it was because you were worried about me, and I saw that you looked like you had been crying. And it just snapped me out of this false reality I had created for myself. And that’s when I came home and apologized, because I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep hurting you.”

You listened to him silently while he talked, letting him get out everything he needed to say before responding. “Why didn’t you tell me that day? Or the few days after that? Why did you wait until now?”

He nodded as if he was waiting for this question. “I read that withdrawal symptoms peak within 12-48 hours, and that it usually takes 5-7 days for the symptoms to resolve. So I wanted to wait out those 7 days just to make sure.”

You gave him a sad look. “But if I knew you were having withdrawal symptoms, I could have helped you. I really wish you would have told me.”

He sighed. “I wanted to do it on my own. To prove to myself that I could do it. That I wasn’t just going to quit halfway through and relapse.”

You nodded sympathetically. “Well, I’m really glad you told me now. We can get through this together.” You gave his hand a little pat. “You know this isn’t the end of it, right? It’s not just over when withdrawal symptoms stop. You still need to work out these issues that made you start this in the first place.”

He nodded. “I know. I want to try to get help now. I… I think I’m ready. I want to look into going to therapy, and maybe some support groups if I need them.” He squeezed your hand again. “I know I can make it through this, because I know you’ll be by my side.”

You smiled softly at him. “I’ll always be by your side.” Your hand trailed up his arms, looking back at the needle marks. “Do they… hurt?” you asked softly.

He shrugged. “Only when they first appear. They don’t hurt right now.”

You nodded, and you gently touched the marks on his arm. You looked at him, and you slowly brought his arm up so you could give every little mark a gentle kiss, to let him know that everything was going to get better soon.

He looked at you with big, loving eyes, and he started tearing up a bit. He pulled you in for a tight hug, sniffling as he buried his face in your neck. “I love you so much,” he said with a shaky voice.

You held him tight, rubbing his back to comfort him. “I love you too, Spence. Everything is going to be okay.” Your voice was calm and soothing. “I’m here now.”

…

Things started to get much better after that. Spencer was way more comfortable telling you when things were feeling more difficult than usual. Typically, it would be when he came home from a particularly emotional case. You were always there to hold him and to soothe him. There was no more aversion to your touch or need for extended silences. He felt comfortable in your arms, and he knew he could talk to you when something was bothering him.

He started seeing a therapist, and you always went there with him. Usually, you just sat outside the office for his sessions so he could have the one-on-one help he needed. Sometimes, if he was having a particularly rough week, he would bring you in with him for extra support. And you were always there when he needed you.

It took a bit of time, but you learned how to help with whatever he needed you for. If he needed a distraction, you could always come up with some activity to get his mind off of things. You played a lot of board games, and started learning to bake so you could just pull out a new recipe to try and he could focus on getting everything just right. When he just needed someone to listen to him, or a shoulder to cry on, you didn’t mind being that person for him. And sometimes he just wanted to be held, saying that the physical touch grounded him. You were always happy to hold him. 

Over time, things got easier and easier to deal with. Eventually, things seemed to be fully back to normal. You both knew that this was always going to be a struggle that could come back, but you knew how to handle it now, and you were certain that you could get through any struggle that ever tried to get in your way.

[swamp-chicken]

distant worlds, ethubs, 2042 words

“You know, I really should have established a timeline for how long I would be your employee,” Bdubs sighs, stocking boxes with enderpearls. “Because I’m sure not doing this forever.”

Etho is sitting at his desk, idly doodling in the corner of his accounting book. “Aw, you’re not?”

Bdubs stretches, cracking his neck. “No! I need to go and build stuff! Make things! I have my own life, you know.”

Bdubs’ pink shorts are riding up a little. Etho tries not to look. “Mmhmm.” he says instead, his go-to when he loses track of a conversation. The doodle on his accounting book is starting to look suspiciously like a series of little hearts. Etho hastily scribbles them out. 

‘You know, you don’t have to sit here and supervise me. I’m not going to wreck your shop or anything.”

“Yeah, but…” But it’s been years since Etho has had Bdubs like this, working at his side. 

Bdubs sighs dramatically. “You don’t trust me?!”

Etho spirals the pen around the page. “You’re a trainee, I gotta keep you on the straight and narrow.” In this case, lying is less pathetic than telling the truth.

Bdubs huffs, but doesn’t argue. They subside back into silence, Etho stifling a smile at the muffled expletive Bdubs lets out when a shulker box closes on his hand. 

The pen travels across the page.

Years ago, a day like this wouldn’t have been so rare. 

 ———

Bdubs was humming and hawing over Etho’s newly-constructed bridge.

“It’s bad,” Etho sighed.  “You can say it’s bad.”

“No, no, no,” Bdubs chided. “No one’s saying that. It just needs a little… umm…“ he rummaged through his inventory, then brightened. “Leaves! Dude, just add some leaves.” He scattered some across the bridge railing with a flourish. “See? Fixes everything.”

Etho hummed, unconvinced. “And then maybe some… trap doors under those?”

Bdubs clapped his hands. “Oh yes, that’ll do it.”

Etho placed the trap doors and stepped back to take in the full picture alongside Bdubs. “I dunno…”

Bdubs’ hand dropped to his shoulder and squeezed. His touch was distractingly warm. “It looks great! Very rustic.” 

Etho tilted his head. It did look a little better than before. 

Satisfied that today’s job was mostly done, he went to go empty his inventory. Bdubs decided to stick around as he worked. He had been doing that a lot more lately. 

Etho put away the final stack of cobblestone and cleared his throat. “There’s actually, uh, something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bdubs was tooling around on Beyonc, showing off her elegant lines and five-block jump.

Etho watched them circle the area and tried to breathe through his sudden spike of anxiety.“Remember the game we worked on? In the modded server?”

Bdubs kicked Beyonc into a flying leap that landed her on top of Etho’s chest stack. “How could I forget? All those hours wasted!”

“Well, yeah.” Etho chewed his lip. “I was actually thinking of building something like that here. In vanilla.”

“You can do that? With redstone?”

Etho shrugged. “I can try.”

Bdubs snorted. “Friggin’ genius.”

“The thing is, though…”

Bdubs nudged Beyonc forward and she landed gracefully before Etho.

“The thing is though…” Etho continued. “I actually may need help—” 

“I’ll do it,” Bdubs interrupted, before Etho had even finished his sentence. 

“You sure?” Etho hesitated. “I don’t want you to put you on the spot or anything…”

“Of course!” Beyonc reared and Bdubs sat comfortably astride her. “We’ll do it together. As a team.”

It was Etho’s first time leading a big project, so he wanted it to do things right. He chose the location and dug out the area himself. He even decided to build a worker’s shack where he and Bdubs could sleep and store all of their materials. 

In retrospect, Etho thought as he mapped out the floorplan, marking two separate bedrooms for him and Bdubs, he shouldn’t have been nervous about inviting Bdubs to join. Bdubs was a kind person and they had already tackled several projects together.

Etho paused. So kind that he probably felt like he couldn’t turn Etho down. So kind that he unflinchingly put up with all of Etho’s various idiosyncrasies and insistences. So kind that, any time they had a disagreement, he would capitulate with a laugh, easy and unbothered.

“You don’t have to help,” Etho blurted the first time Bdubs came to visit the worker’s shack. 

Bdubs was standing in the doorway of the bedroom Etho had built for him, but still a glimmer of uncertainty crossed his face. “What, you don’t want me here?”

There was a lump in Etho’s throat. “No, I just…I don’t want to force you into anything.”

Bdubs placed his bed down in the room like a declaration. “There’s no forcing.” He met Etho’s gaze and smiled, so warmly that Etho felt it in his chest. “I’m gonna decorate this place so good.”

Etho had worked with Bdubs before, but he had never lived with him. It was different, not having to say their goodbyes at the end of the day.  Instead, they walked back to the worker’s shack side by side, chattering about everything and nothing. It was different, waking up in the morning and finding Bdubs already in the kitchen, sleep-mussed and cooking, asking Etho how he liked his eggs. 

It was different— Bdubs’ toothbrush in the bathroom, the wet puddle after he showered. The flowers that appeared in the windowsill and the laughter that echoed through the halls. Prepared meals, easy company, warm nights of doing nothing much but enjoying each other’s presence.

It was a different kind of torture, Etho learned, having Bdubs so near and liking him so much. He was too kind, making eggs just the way Etho liked, telling stories that made him laugh, helping unflinchingly with the enormous task of building this arena. He was so kind that Etho couldn’t help falling in love with him. 

Nights were the worst, were the time when Etho felt furthest from any semblance of rationality or self-control. Lying in bed, staring through the darkness, he felt hyperaware that Bdubs lay just a short distance across the hall. So kind that he just might let Etho climb into bed with him. 

Etho rolled over and willed himself to sleep. 

Days passed, and then weeks. Spring was pushing into summer and the days were getting hotter. One particular day the heat was so oppressive that it even invaded the underground bunker where Etho had been doing most of the redstone wiring. 

When the sweat started dripping into Etho’s eyes, he had no choice but to take a break. He stood, wiping sweat from his face with his shirt bottom, and took a deep draught from his water bucket.

Bdubs, he knew, was probably even worse off. He was building outside in the blazing sun. Etho decided to check on him. He felt bad that Bdubs was working so hard on a project that Etho himself wasn’t certain they could finish. 

The end of the season had been announced a week ago and since then they had been scrambling to complete the arena before they had to leave this world and go to the next. There was a pit in Etho’s stomach every time he thought about it. This had happened to them last time, and now it was happening on the project that he was leading— the project that he had roped Bdubs into, that they had spent so much time on.

The worst part, though, was leaving their home. Etho didn’t know when he had started calling the worker’s shack home, but he had. It certainly felt more like home than any other place he had built on the server. He couldn’t deny that was in a large part due to Bdubs’ presence. 

He didn’t know what the next world would hold. He didn’t know if he would find an excuse to live with Bdubs again. He didn’t even know if Bdubs would want to work with him again, especially after this project had turned out to be such a thankless grind.

Etho found Bdubs building on the outskirts of the arena. He was shirtless, sweat beading along his shoulderblades. The sight was so overwhelming that Etho almost turned to leave.

Bdubs was grunting with the effort of building a wall, dropping blocks into place. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” Etho ventured once he felt more in-control. “I’m not even paying you.”

Bdubs put his blocks down with a heavy sigh. “You think at this point my ego’s not all tied up in this too?”

Etho snorted and drew near. “Good point.” This close, he could see the smile lines crinkling at the corner of Bdubs’ eyes. “Want a break?” He held out his water bucket and a snack. 

“Golden carrots!” Bdubs exclaimed. “You spoil me.”

He took the water bucket first, though, and drank from it deeply. Etho’s eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed, to the sweat droplets that chased each other down his torso. 

“Ahh,” Bdubs sighed, refreshed, and Etho snapped his gaze upwards. “Do you mind?” Bdubs asked, gesturing to the water.

Etho shook his head, confused, but before he had much time to ponder, Bdubs was tipping the bucket over his own head, sending water crashing down around him. 

Etho squawked and hopped backwards out of the splash zone.

“Oh,” Bdubs groaned, “Oh, that feels so good.” His hair was dripping, plastered to his head. Water was still sheeting down his body and soaking into his jeans. His eyes fluttered open and he caught Etho’s shocked gaze. He blinked. “You said you didn’t mind!” 

There was a note of petulance in Bdubs’ voice that wouldn’t have been there a few months ago, before they had started living in each other’s pockets. Before Bdubs—before he was comfortable—

Something inside Etho snapped. 

Bdubs lifted the bucket uncertainly, “I can get more water, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Etho carefully took the bucket out of Bdubs’ hands. 

“…Etho?” Bdubs was stepping back awkwardly, falling back on those sloppy forms that had gotten him killed by Etho more than once.

Etho grabbed Bdubs’ hand and Bdubs froze, blinking up at him from under his soaked fringe, eyes soft and worried. 

“You—“ Etho tried. “I—“ His ears burned with embarrassment.

He gave up on speaking and pulled the mask underneath his chin, pressed his lips to Bdubs’ hand.

“Oh,” Bdubs said. So kind that he didn’t pull away.

Etho turned Bdubs’ hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm.

“Oh,” Bdubs said again, voice hushed. “You don’t— do you?”

———

Etho wants to reach out, wants to take Bdubs hand, but he can’t. He’s too afraid Bdubs will run through his fingers like water, melt away like he has so many times before.

Bdubs is squirmy that way, surprisingly hard to pin down. One minute he’s swearing his eternal devotion, the next he’s mocking Etho, eyes gleaming with mirth. There’s months and years he’s not even there at all, times when he’s nothing but a sore spot in Etho’s memory. 

That day in the unfinished arena, Bdubs had kissed him. His hair had dripped into Etho’s eyes. Etho hadn’t thought anything of kindness that night when they curled together, Etho’s chin propped on his chest. Bdubs was too busy looking at him like he was a puzzle he had found the last piece to. 

Things change, Etho knows. That world ended, a new one began. Bdubs never kissed him again. 

It can never be like what it once was, Etho fears. Here is too distant from there.

“Done!” Bdubs announces. “Your enderpearls are all sorted. Now can I leave?”

Etho sighs, but he doesn’t have any good reason to keep Bdubs longer. “Yeah, that should be it for today.” 

Bdubs is already packing his inventory. He pauses on his way out the door. “You know, you didn’t even comment on my uniform.”

Etho is caught off guard. “I—I didn’t?”

Bdubs gives a spin. His legs are on full display. “I made it just for you!”

Etho swallows. When he meets Bdubs’ gaze, he winks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

[soullumii]

if my heart’s gonna break | joel miller x f!reader

part 1 (read part 1 before reading this!)

summary: a couple nights later, you head back to joel’s

warnings: 18+!!!! smut again. unprotected piv. fem!afab!reader. angst again don’t worry i’ll make a happy ending okay

word count: 4k

joel mod in gif is by speclizer (so fucking hot oh my GODDDD)

a/n: finally finished part 2 omg i’m sorry for the wait yall… i’m a perfectionist it’s lowkey debilitating. anyways… i hope u guys enjoy <3 tysm for the support on part 1 and tbh on all my other fics too… i can’t believe ppl like my writing that much. i am very grateful! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

im scared but if my heart's gonna break before the night will end

i said we're in danger

sleeping with a friend

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You cant stop thinking about the kiss. 

The kiss that honestly shouldn’t mean so much to you. You’ve kissed him, like, so many times. So many times his tongue has been in your mouth, been in your damn vagina. So why the fuck… why the fuck are you so worked up over this right now?

It’s just…it was so heavy. It felt like…like more than just a kiss. Like he was laying his life down for you, much like he does in patrols. 

He… Joel… he usually never kisses right after sex. He recognizes in the post-coitus energy that things are different. They mean more. He has to know that. So… why now? Does he…?

No. You’re just in your head again. Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard. You’ve never had a friends with benefits situation before now. Maybe this… maybe this is regular.

But for your own psyche, you think you might have to set some ground rules. 

There was always that main rule, that wretched, critical rule. The one you said to him on the first day of your strange exchange.

“Don’t go falling in love with me, cowboy.”

Well, to hell with that one, right? Pretty sure you’ve beaten that shit to death. Shattered all possible remains of it.

So more rules. More rules will have to do. Starting with:

No kissing.

Should be easy enough. 

You’ll figure out the rest later. You have got to stop thinking about it, though, because you’re on the way to his house right now. 

You knock swiftly on the door, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your pussy the moment he opens the door to reveal himself. A plain, black t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest, haphazardly tucked into a pair of plaid pajama pants that hang loosely around his hips. His graying hair is ruffled beyond belief, curling around his ears and falling over his forehead. In your fits of passion and desire a couple nights ago, you hardly realized it had grown longer. It looks nice.

This sleepy and soft Joel is not one you’ve seen in a while. Well, it’s not like you’ve seen him much lately anyway, with him having been gone and all. Still, it’s disorienting. 

“Howdy,” he says.

“Um. Hi.” You try not to gawk. “Did…did I come at a bad time, or something?”

“No, not at all. I just got back from patrols… took a shower,” he says, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, strong arms crossing over his chest. There’s a tiny, barely perceptible smirk on his lips. “Need somethin’?”

You see it now, the water clinging to his hair, darkening it, beading at his temples like sweat. You follow a line of water trickling down his throat until it disappears behind his collar.

Rule 2: Don’t come over after he’s showered.

“I…uh, I can come back later if you want—“

You’re nervous to ask him what you want to ask him, which is honestly ridiculous considering you guys have been doing this for months now. You used to be able to just knock on his door and he’d pull you in, and it was that easy. Or you’d give him a look when in public, and he knew exactly what you needed.

Now, you’re painfully awkward. Curse him and curse your feelings.

He straightens a bit, his brows furrowing in slight concern. “What’s goin’ on?”

Heat spreads down your neck, embarrassment. Shame. It’s strange, how just a couple nights ago you let him finger you in public, and now you’re afraid to ask him for sex again in his house and for your panties back.

You should honestly just say something like:

I’m here for my underwear.

And you’re positive he’d say:

Want it back? You gotta earn it, sweetheart.

And your knees would buckle and you’d sink down to the carpeted floor in front of his couch and suck him off until he was coming down your throat, stroking back your hair and thumbing his cum on your plush bottom lip.

But instead you’re scowling at him and blurting: “I need a drink.”

How dare he leave you high and dry for three weeks, come back and fuck the shit out of you, make you realize you’re in love with him, and look this good?

God damnit, you need to get your shit together. 

Joel’s eyes widen, surprised only slightly by your outburst, before he backs up to allow you inside his home. When he shuts the door behind you, his hand settles warmly on your lower back as he steers you toward the kitchen.

He immediately beelines for the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of red for you. A warm, tingly feeling stirs in your stomach at the fact that he knew you’d want wine. The frustration you’ve been feeling fizzles out. 

“You know me so well.”

He gives you a light smirk, uncorking the bottle. The liquor gurgles as he pours it into a glass. “Think you’d kill me if I didn’t know after all this time.”

You laugh, “Sure, but the real test of friendship is if you knew how I’d kill you.”

“A swift kick to the nuts and then one of my guitars to my head.”

Your eyes widen on a guffaw. “You think I’d damage one of your guitars?”

“You care more about my guitars than my genitals?” 

“Yes. Why would I ever smash one of your guitars?”

He rolls his eyes. “Kill two birds with one stone—my soul and my body. It’s effective. If you needed to kill me, I’d hope it was like that. Now how would I kill you?” 

You hum in consideration. “Trick question. You wouldn’t—no, you couldn’t.”

“You know me so well.” 

His words mirrored back at you so gently, with his brown eyes trained on you intently has the warmth in your belly spreading, making you drop your gaze.

His smirk grows and he hands you the wine glass and reaches for some homemade brandy. You watch the muscles in his arm flex as he pours, sipping daintily while your mind replays thoughts of filth. Of you dragging that arm between your legs, grinding down on it until—

“So, you really only here for a drink?” He asks with a playful lilt, taking a sip of his own beverage and effectively jolting you out of your daydreaming.

You lean against the island, wondering if you should tell him the truth. From the way he’s looking at you, hungrily and heated, like a lion ready to pounce, you’re tempted to.

But…you’re afraid. You can’t stop thinking about The Rule. The one you broke and the ones you just made. You wonder if whatever might happen between you two tonight will unravel them before you can even put them into place.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pursed around the rim of the glass. “Maybe, maybe not.”

His eyes darken, tongue darting out to lick his lips of sweet fermented wine. His gaze travels up and down your figure, comfortable and breathable in a t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy and cute like your sundress from the other night, because today you had to work. But Joel has never minded what you’ve worn, swearing you always look sexy in anything.

Which is something that also makes you question this friends with benefits situation you have here.

He sets his glass down and eases in closer, curling an arm around your waist to pull you into him. “How high’s the chance then?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s the probability that you really did only come here for a drink?” he drawls, eyes following your lips as your tongue dips out to wet them. “Or was there another reason?”

The cold tip of his nose brushes along your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. You tremble in his hold. “Odds are in favor of the first option,” you breathe, “ran out of alcohol at my place.”

“And you couldn’t just stop by the Bison? Had to steal from my stores?”

“You know you have the good stuff.”

“You’re lyin’ but I’ll pretend like you ain’t.”

That makes you laugh, and more tumble out of you when one of his hands traces lazily over your stomach, fingers light and delicate and teasing.

“So why d’ya need a drink?”

Because you’re driving me crazy. Because I’m driving myself crazy. Because the universe wants to fuck me over.

You smile and your free hand skates up his muscled back, your fingers brushing along the stretchy fabric of his tee, your voice soft. “Just needed to destress a little. Work has been intense.”

He grins back, presses it into the spanse between your throat and your shoulder, before he lightly scrapes his teeth over it and lays a gentle bite that has you keening into him, pressing your body against his.

“Well, I could help you destress another way too,” he murmurs, palm squeezing the pudgy flesh of your waist, fingers digging lightly into your muscle.

“Mm… yeah?” you hum, your voice a low purr, back arching. Your breasts press into his chest, and Joel makes a sound deep in his throat in agreement.

He presses you into the island, caging you in with his hands on either side of you. He towers over you, a sweatpant clad leg sliding between yours. 

He leans down to kiss you, and a flashing light blares in your mind — NO KISSING — loud and bright and distracting. You turn your head at the last second, his lips landing on your cheek. But Joel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t question you. He just kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, mouthing at you. Sucking your skin to leave little marks that will either fade or be covered by concealer. 

It used to upset you when he left marks because they’re a pain to cover up. Then, you started to like it. You didn’t mind covering up the marks because when you took the makeup off and saw them at the end of the day, all you could think about was him. About the how he made you come. About the words he muttered in your ear. About the feeling of his hands on you—in you. 

Now, you’re starting to grow upset again, but this time it’s because you want to wear them proudly. Want people to know he gets to claim you like this. But… you can’t. But you also don’t want him to stop.

You allow him to continue marking you up, his hand coming up to rest behind your skull, holding you in place. You press your body into his eagerly and with desperate, soft noises that he returns with placating moans.

And then he shifts, and his thigh ruts against your clothed core, and you moan lightly, airily, grinding your hips down against him, searching for any friction. 

His hands curl around the hem of your white tee, and he peels it off your body. One skates behind your back to easily undo the clasp of your bra, and then your breasts are heavy and on display for him. 

Joel stares down at you with heavy eyes. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

Longing claws at your chest, and you look up at him coyly, your lip caught between your teeth. Joel groans like he’s in pain, and squeezes along the underside of one of your breasts before leaning down to close his mouth over the nipple while his other hand gives attention to the other, squeezing and pinching. Your hands find purchase in his damp hair as low moans tumble from your lips. 

When he’s deemed one nipple adequately appreciated, he moves onto the next. Licking, revering, his dark eyes peering up at you while his peppered hair is fisted in your hands. The sight has slick arousal pooling in your underwear.

Eventually he pulls back and his hands clamp down on your hips. He guides you along the muscle of his thigh, your clit pulsing at the contact. 

“Want you to come on my thigh, baby.” His voice is a ragged slur of words against your ear, warm and paired with a kiss to your cartilage. 

“Fuck…yes, Joel,” you whimper, sparks flying through your nerves with each roll of your hips.

His fingers grip your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him as you rut against his thigh. He’s grinning, eyes heavy lidded and deep, dark like wet tar. They suck you in as if they were quicksand.

You’d let him drag you under a million times over. 

Your best friend.

“Joel,” you moan, feeling yourself grow close. Standing at the cliff's edge. His eyes bore into yours, his grin slipping as he focuses on you. Focuses on making you shatter atop him.

“Come on, baby. You can do it. You can come,” he says encouragingly,  fingers stroking the skin of your hip. You feel tears prick your eyes as the waves crash, spreading from your throbbing clit along your muscles. Filling you with warmth, stronger and deeper than the buzz from the wine.

“Good job,” he praises gently. “Did so good.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

He laughs, and despite yourself, heat floods your body, throbs between your thighs. His words caress a deep, carnal animal inside of you, and the hunger takes over.

You frantically pull at his shirt until he has to tell you to slow down, and takes it off himself. Your hands run along his chest and stomach the moment they’re able to and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm his hardening cock through the soft, gray fabric. Joel groans deep and heavy, his lashes fluttering as he stares you down. His hips thrust into your palm automatically. Involuntarily. 

God, that makes you light up like a firefly. Makes your nerves sing and your cunt flutter and your mind go numb.

He tugs down your shorts and underwear and sets you on top of the granite, but before he can strip the underwear from your ankle to no doubt pocket this pair like he did the other, you flick it off your foot across the kitchen. It lands somewhere near the door to the dining room.

He can’t steal all your underwear, or you’ll have none left.

“I wanted those,” he drawls, expression on the edge of a pout.

“Yeah, well I need them. It’s not common to come across a good pair of panties in this world.” 

“But I’d give ‘em back.” He’s full on pouting now. It is, unfortunately, very cute, but you’re used to it.

“Sure… like the pair you took from me the other night that I have yet to receive.” 

“How else am I supposed to get you to come over?” 

“I dunno? Maybe ask?”

“Should I leave a note on your door? Is that good enough for you?”

“At least be classy. A letter delivered in my mailbox with a wax stamp, please.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Princess.”

He finally peels off his sweatpants, free of underwear beneath them, and you watch with barely concealed hunger as his cock springs free. 

And while you like the idea of him fucking you on the counter, you’d much rather him fuck you against the counter, so you hop down and turn so your back faces him. Your hands curl around the granite lip of the counter top, and you push your ass out and back, peering at him over your shoulder.

This way, it’s easier for him not to kiss you. Easier for you to turn your head and deny your lips to him. 

“Look at you…” Joel hums appreciatively at your show, at the wiggle of your hips as his palm smooths down your back and over your ass, squeezing at the plump flesh. 

You moan quietly, and Joel’s eyes darken, watching you intently like you’re the only thing in the room. 

His fingers drift down to your cunt and your slickness coats his fingers fully. You’re so wet for him. So ready for him to bury himself inside you and call you his.

It’s funny, you’ve lost all your heat from a few nights ago. All your sharp edged words. Now, you’re soft and pliant.

He swirls his soaked index and middle fingers along your clit, punctuating your sensitivity, before sliding them back inside you to the knuckle. You keen and push back, desperate for more. His fingers are so much longer than yours, thicker, and yet you crave more.

“That’s it, Joel,” you huff. “Fuck, feels so good. Need more.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

Shame lights your cheeks, but you push down the embarrassment. “Need…need your cock inside me.”

He lays a kiss on your neck. “Still a bit desperate aren’t we?”

“You’re the desperate one, Mr. Panty Stealer. You’re a fucking creep.”

He chuckles against your neck, but he squeezes your ass in retaliation. “Be nice, would you?”

“You like it when I’m mean.”

“Wanna see how much I like it?”

“If you’re willing to show me and get on with this, sure.”

He huffs in amused frustration. “God, you’re annoyin’.”

You just smile innocently at him.

Your legs tremble, slick running down your thighs when Joel pulls his fingers out. He replaces them with the hardness of his cock, of which he runs along your wetness, readying himself.

“I think ‘bout you way too much,” he says into your back, pressing a gentle kiss there. “D’ya think ‘bout me too?”

It’s an odd question. One you’re not expecting. One that has your heart stuttering in quiet confusion from this sudden switch in tone.

“Of course I do.” Obviously. You told him as much. Three weeks. Three weeks you thought about him.

“Good… wanna be the only thing on your mind.”

A high pitched keen hisses through your teeth as Joel eases himself inside you with a long, slow stroke and a low moan. Your fingers white knuckle the countertop, gripping it tightly.

He presses in close, burying himself all the way in before he withdraws slowly, his cock sliding inside you torturously. 

“Joel,” you moan.

“I know, baby.” He presses kisses to your shoulders. 

Joel’s hand gravitates to the back of your knee, and he slowly pushes up to lift your leg until your knee is resting on the counter. 

And then… with this new angle…he starts fucking you in earnest.

His hips snap against your ass, the sound deafening in the kitchen, and you crumple against the granite with a moan.

“Shit,” Joel grunts. “Yeah.”

Each of his heavy thrusts punches the air from your lungs, and your fingers slip on the countertop, scrabbling for purchase every chance you can get. He’s hot, thick inside you, warm as he folds over you, his hand on your tummy holding you upright, the other keeping your leg up to continue hitting you at that pleasant, delicious angle.

“H-holy shit—oh—“

He breathes heavily at your neck, low grunts and moans escaping his lips from his efforts. “Could spend eternity inside you, darlin’. Fuck, you’re mine.”

Your heart stutters, the words uttered in a lust filled craze, likely meaning nothing. But to your traitorous brain, to the hope lingering in your chest like a persistent cough, they mean everything. 

“All…” you’re losing your train of thought, fucked into blissful nothingness. “All yours, Joel.” 

It’s too difficult for him to kiss you from this angle, which you’re relieved about. But a part of you longs for it, longs for the feel of his mouth moving against yours. 

Joel’s strong arm wraps around your chest, and pulls you up so you’re flush against his back as he pounds up and into you. Keens and whimpers and breathless pants escape you with every thrust.

“Please, Joel,” you cry, tears pricking at the edges of your swirling vision.

“What, baby?” He huffs. “Need’a come?”

You nod crazily. “Yes—need to—“

“Shhh okay… I’ve got you,” he murmurs gently, the hand wrapped around your tummy inching down to circle at your clit steadily.

Your legs buckle beneath you but Joel keeps you upright as the pleasure soars through you, sudden and strong. He strokes you through it, groaning praises into your ear before he comes inside you a moment later. 

The two of you hiss in tandem when he pulls out, but he smothers it when he lays his mouth over yours. You’re hardly coherent enough to remember your rule, and for a moment you let him kiss you. You kiss him back, chasing the heat of his mouth with your own, moaning against his lips when his tongue dips into your mouth. 

Then, you remember.

You pull back panting, cheeks a flame, “Joel.”

“Hm?” He murmurs, dragging his lips down your jaw before moving back up to pull you into another kiss. You move away before he can. His brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t think we should kiss anymore.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

Your eyes flit across the kitchen, catching on labeled jars and wooden spoons and spices, anything but his own. “It’s too intimate.” 

It’s a lame excuse. Joel sees through it immediately.

“And my cock inside you ain’t?”

You sigh heavily, avoiding eye contact. “It’s different.”

“How? Enlighten me.” His tone has gone rougher. Hurt swirls in his eyes, and you feel worse than you did the other night.

Because you and I are friends. Because I don’t think I can pretend like that’s the truth when all I want is to call you mine. Because when I kiss you it’s like my world finally starts to make sense. 

“Please, Joel. Just…I don’t want to do it anymore. Can you respect that, please?”

He runs a hand down his beard, his hurt expression hardening into a stoic one you haven’t been on the receiving end of in years. Fuck. “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t kiss you anymore.”

You expect relief but all that comes is a deep longing and sadness that you try to push to the depths of your conscience. Though, like a buoy, it keeps popping above the surface. 

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

The cleanup is awkward. He watches you silently as you pick up your underwear and slide them and your shorts back on. He seems far away, here and gone all at once. It makes you worry, makes you wonder if what you just said was the biggest mistake of your life.

But you have to do this. You have to hold him at arm's length because if you admit to him…if you tell him how you really feel… maybe he really will leave you. He’ll realize you’ve gone and fucked everything up, and the friendship you’ve kindled, the trust you’ve built, will all be for nothing.

You can’t lose him, even if it means you can’t keep him close.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say eventually, when he’s walking you out the front door.

He smiles at you, faint and untrue. It’s like the one from the other night. Like that laugh he forced out for you. You feel like a Joel from the past has teleported to the present, with his thin smile and his hard eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

“You okay?”

Joel frowns, shifts on his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. You just seem… I don’t know. Never mind.”

“I’m good.” 

“You sure?”

He nods. “You need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum. A moth circles the porch light. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. He looks as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” is all that he says. 

“Okay,” you repeat, feeling empty. A waif, a lonely white flag waving in the wind. “Um, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Night, darlin’,” he says, squeezing your arm, like he’s trying to be normal. It doesn’t work. His hand is cold. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Joel.”

It’s raining by the time you reach your house, and you curl under your blankets after a shower, your hair cold and wet against your scalp, listening to the droplets splattering against your window.

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

part 3

[miscretis]

Discord Mod!Ronin x Discord Kitten!Reader (G.n) [PART 1 OF A CRACK FIC TAKEN SERIOUSLY]

CG art by: munstxr

WRITER'S NOTE

This used to be satire but I quickly took it quite seriously which was hilarious. Yes I still find this quite funny to write.

CW:

- Cringe

- Possibly dull writing (I'm still new and I'm tired)

- Coarse Language

❣️

“So, what would'ja do now? Taste the feeling of metallic death by my crowbar? Or ya gonna kiss me? Or are you gonna kill me? I got a knife right here! ” He lets out a dark chuckle as he closes up the gap between the both of you, pinning you to the wall. Now, how did you two end up in the dark alleyways of the Purgatory? Or rather, how did you even end up in this situation?

It all started with a text, a passcode and a link.

ERROR!UNKNOWN: don't be so obvious smh. You're Gonna Get Caught.

ERROR!UNKNOWN sent you a file.exe

ERROR!UNKNOWN: ReceivedKey: k!llrch8t_b00t.mango

here Ya go there's your Key Whenever you're Ready.

What the fuck? What is this?

All you were trying to do was to collect research for your dark romance serial killer novel and now you're being sent a strange link? (Especially after tweeting a question about killing experience with a crowbar.)

It seemed like a link to a Walmart version of discord but on the darkweb. You were wary at first, thinking about how your IP could've been doxxed if you ever clicked on the link. However you felt pressured to click on it when a notification sounded from your PC.

ERROR!UNKNOWN: are You gonna Join? you're no Fun at all.

Whoever this person was, he seemed like he wanted to mess around. Well, fine, you'll give him entertainment then.

You then clicked on the link.

You were led to a shady site with a blank for keying in the passcode. You remember the person giving you the passcode but it was long and complicated so you couldn't really memorise it properly.

Uh….maybe I'll just try keying in ‘password’?

ERROR! Wrong passcode. 2 more tries and your IP address will be revealed.

Well, shit.

You continued to rack your brain around for any possible passwords for this situation. You tried different passwords until a message showed up…

ERROR! Wrong password! Your IP address will be revealed in 3 seconds!

…

Just kidding, come on inside.

You entered a chatroom named “The Slaughterhouse.” with the exact same interface as discord. The channels, layout and everything.

<goreboy> welcome the Newly Christened @user

<hitmeuppp> AAA omg omg!! welcome to helllllll

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> WELCOME WELCOME HIIIIIII

<felicite> Nice to meet you!

<Angelic> Hi there! Glad to have another one with us ❤️

<goreboy> make Sure to take a Peek at #rules

there is Barely Anything but You Never Know

…

It's a serial killer chatroom. This has to be satire…right?

Oh god

You checked the rules.

<goreboy> Be a serial killer. first rule of Fight Club. Whatever i don't really give a shit lmfao. Oh and be nice don't be racist or transphobic or weird else angel will snipe u :\

<Angelic> it's not a threat it's a promise

Maybe this is just an intense roleplaying server

This must be it. These people are weirdos, not serial killers.

…

Maybe I’ll just play along…for now..

A day or two went by and they were still into the intense roleplay. It was weird in all honesty. Being in a server full of probably edgy teenagers talking about killing people seems to be the last time on your checklist of things to do. Least to say, it was fun and entertaining to watch. Watching them say the cringiest of things, it sure really gave you a good laugh. However soon after, you were getting bored and tired of watching by the sidelines for weeks despite the roleplay being a perfect source of research for your novel.

But a roleplay is just a roleplay…isn't it?

So, you decided to mess around to cure your boredom. Just a little more fun wouldn't hurt.

You lean back against your chair, pondering what you should do. Suddenly your thoughts drifted off to discord memes that your friends have been sending to you, then it clicked.

A discord kitten

You're not sure if you should do it, being a discord kitten is dangerous work and surely isn't a smart thing to do, especially in a server probably full of serial killers…

But yet again, they're just edgy teenagers that were very niche in intense roleplay, it would be fun to mess with them…but do you?

…

Fine, I'll play it this way then.

First of all, you need to find your discord mod to your discord kitten and you immediately chose the top dog, the alpha of the server, goreboy. Ronin…isn't it?

Oh god, I can't believe that I'm losing my dignity for this.

But what route could this open? A dangerous and gloomy path, or a sweet flowery romance?

At this point, you don't really care about that anymore. You just wanted to tell a good story.

[cripplecharacters]

I’m writing a story where both of the main character’s (who isn’t disabled) parents have intellectual disability. Do you have any tips for writing the dynamic? Especially what things in parenting and the relationship with their parents would be affected by their disabilities and what wouldn’t?

Hi!

I love the idea of including intellectually disabled people as parents! Very cool to see.

The dynamic would heavily depend on both the age of the main character, as well as what is the parents' level of intellectual disability. If it's as mild as mine then there really won't be major differences outside of a few things, but if it's moderate or severe then their relationship would be much more affected.

First thing that wouldn't get affected is that intellectually disabled parents still have the same emotions as all other parents! They would probably love their kid, be proud of them, and try to help them when they can. Obviously it doesn't mean they'd automatically be perfect parents, but ID doesn't make you into a terrible or neglectful parent either.

There are some things that would probably be present that wouldn't really feel that "different" for the MC (because they would grow up with them!);

maybe someone comes to help the parents manage things like taxes or groceries,

maybe the MC had to start helping their parents at a younger age that they would normally be expected to (as a somewhat similar example, think of immigrant parents who don't speak the language, but their child does - the kid has to help in many scenarios),

maybe the parents weren't able to help them with things like homework for as long as other parents would (which can be frustrating for both parties, btw!).

The MC would also probably have an easier time "getting around" whatever it is that their parents tell them to do or not do. As far as you would want to go with is your choice, but I would advise against making it go into the heavily manipulative/abusive territory. There's so little representation for this kind of thing, I'd love to see it as (in the grand scheme of things) positive. Of course, the parents could also get frustrated with them over this, and so on. But that's kinda just the complexity of any parental relationship, I feel like.

As I mentioned above, please don't make them "blissfully neglectful". That's not to say that people with ID can't ever be abusive, but that's a real life misconception that people have, which does lead to eugenic rhetoric ("they won't be able to take care of their kid anyway, so they should be sterilized". this is a real talking point).

Last thing that might or might not apply, make sure that whatever causes their ID doesn't also make them infertile (unless you're going the adoption route ofc)! The vast majority of people with ID can have kids, but some might be unable to due to other symptoms of their disability.

I hope this helps! Thank you for the very interesting question :-)

mod Sasza

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Watching u <3

I've been working on this for a while. Off and on since late June. Believe it or not, I have actually been having ideas throughout my entire hiatus, it was just a case of not being able to really write anything down...

This is probably darker than some of my other stuff, I just feel like I should say. Please do not read this if you're uncomfortable with this. Thank you, and have a good day/afternooon/night.

Warning(s): yandere behaviors, explicitly fem reader, death, some sexist stuff (it's not as bad as it probably could be but it's there), incel Idia I know he isn't in canon please don't be mad at me for making him one in this fic, delusional yandere Idia, non consentual kiss, blood hemorrhage mention, unwanted comments about reader's body, implied past trauma, doxxing, breaking and entering

It was a long day of boring classes for Idia. Today was one of those days he was forced to actually attend class in person... ew. He hated it, being around people for that long. But he had a test today, and apparently the professor didn't trust him enough to do it remotely from his dorm room.

Luckily though, Idia had something to look forward to. At the end of the day, when he gets back to his dorm room, almost exactly... something he looks forward to all week will finally start.

What is this thing he is so looking forward to?

Well, what other than your weekly livestream, of course!

He loved everything about you.

He knew everything there was to know about you. He even knew your name, despite you hiding your identity behind a fictitious catgirl persona~

(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). He loved that name of yours. It felt like honey in his mouth as the words spilled out of him... calling you by your real name without you knowing~

Idia considered you a friend- no, even MORE. He wasn't friends with you, no no no no no! You were his lovely little girlfriend! Cute and submissive and everything... ohhh, he loved you so much. Hearing your voice... listening to you... answering you like you were right next to him... donating to you every time you streamed, copious amounts of money... participating in chat every now and again, to have an actual dialogue with you... he didn't like talking with other people, oh, but he ALWAYS made an exception for you.

You two have even started chatting outside just your streams. He's a mod for your streams now, as well as on your personal server... you were a bit apprehensive about that at first, but don't worry, he convinced you!

One time, you confided in him about some... serious issues you went through irl. It was so cute, imagining you in that situation.

Oh, you've been through so much together... you're practically dating at this point! Oh... but maybe he should actually ask you, just to make sure you know you're dating him. Just in case. Just in case.

Idia happily logged onto your stream, anxious to watch you... and to pop the question later~

But as he logged on... he... he heard you... say... something...

"Sorry I wasn't able to stream last week... something came up in my real life!" He saw your semi-3d avatar smile, responding to your real expression, no doubt. "I know it sounds crazy, but somehow... I'm dating someone!"

At first, Idia decided to optimistically think about how, maybe you're referring to him... but, as the pre-stream chitchat continued... it became obvious you weren't.

...

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM?!

In a fit of anger, Idia unsubscribed and blocked you on absolutely everything.

...but then, he thought of something. A nice plan... one that would hopefully make you dependent on him... you'd dump whatever loser you're dating right now... and he would be your only source of comfort.

He unblocked your accounts on his main... and then, he logged onto an alternate account, one that doesn't connect back to him in any way; sorta like what you tried to do with your stream persona, but actually unconnected, unlike yours.

He sent you a message from his sock puppet...

Your stream ended for the day, and... you were confused to see a message from an account you didn't recognize. You thought that maybe it was just a fan deciding to message you, as you get that a lot, but once you accepted the message request to see what they sent...

[xNDRWRLDx] : this u?

...you saw... a picture of yourself... one a family member of yours posted a few years ago... you tried your best to make sure that your online persona didn't connect back to your real life at all, so... how... how did this person get this picture?!

As terrified as you were, you chose to ignore this message. About an hour later, you received another.

Despite your thoughts, screaming at you to not give this person the time of day... that last message just set you off. You decided to respond.

[xNDRWRLDx] : ignoring ppl is rude

[xNDRWRLDx] : u know that, right?

[xNDRWRLDx] : or is ur thick skull not able to comprehend that

[xNDRWRLDx] : lmao yeah, thats prob the case

[xNDRWRLDx] : u could get a much higher paying job if u quit streaming & decided 2 use ur tits & ass 2 ur advantage

[xNDRWRLDx] : getting railed all day would b easier than streaming. u wouldnt have 2 pretend u have a personality beyond "uwu im a girl who plays video games arent i cute??"

You suddenly saw a string of numbers appear on your screen in the next message from this person. Is that your IP?!

[n3k0-ebi] : who tf are you??

[xNDRWRLDx] : o right, u said smth abt not being comfortable w/ talking abt stuff like that

[xNDRWRLDx] : lmfao weak much??? cant even take a joke

[xNDRWRLDx] : wat a pathetic excuse of a human

[n3k0-ebi] : whats your angle dude

[n3k0-ebi] : are you just trying to make me mad on purpose? it wont work, so just leave me alone.

What could this person know? Just what you look like in real life?? As much as you don't want people to know, it... it isn't that bad. You're not going to pose like that. You're not even going to give this person the time of day anymore.

[xNDRWRLDx] : look familiar?

[xNDRWRLDx] : just saying u would look adorable laying under me w/ ur mouth agape & drooling w/ ur eyes half shut <3

[xNDRWRLDx] : maybe if u send me a pic of u looking like that i might consider not sharing wat i know w/ ur entire audience

[xNDRWRLDx] : ur choice bitch

You log off for the night, not giving any more thought to this person's likely hollow threats.

The next day, you woke up, not realizing what happened over night.

You took a nice, relaxing, early morning shower...

Strangely enough, as you left your washroom, you could have sworn you'd seen a strange, blue light outside your hallway window. Probably just your eyes playing tricks on you... or light reflecting off something...

You make your way to your living room, and sit yourself down on the couch, comfy in your bathrobe and hair towel. You turn on the tv so you can half watch whatever comes on, and focus the rest of your attention on browsing Magicam.

...

...that's a lot of notifications.

You decide to look through your mentions first, and... you see a post from that account that was messaging you last night. It details your full legal name, your address, your partner's name, your parent's names, your homeland, every personal detail you could think of was listed in this post.

In a sudden moment of not thinking, you decide to message them.

They... they just sent you... a picture of you coming out of your shower... and then another, of you sitting here on the couch-?!

[n3k0-ebi] : what the hell is wrong with you?!

[n3k0-ebi] : you fucking doxxed me?!

[xNDRWRLDx] : i told u it was ur choice didnt i

[xNDRWRLDx] : u chose 2 not send me that pic i wanted

[xNDRWRLDx] : so really its ur own fault <3

You look out your living room window... but you don't see anybody.

[xNDRWRLDx] : ur not responding?

[xNDRWRLDx] : rude

[xNDRWRLDx] : little missy cant think of anything to say huh

[xNDRWRLDx] : idk wat i expected lmfao

[xNDRWRLDx] : typical 4 a female pretending 2 know stuff cant even hide ur identity properly

[xNDRWRLDx] : wat an idiotttt

The next month is a chaotic one.

Being stalked by so-called "fans"... yourself and your family members being sent weird letters and death threats... your regular workplace firing you... your family and friends cutting ties with you... your partner breaking up with you...

...why did this all have to happen...?

Is this your fault...? Maybe if you had just sent that picture... no, no don't even think about it. That person probably would have done this to you anyways...

...oh...

Oh, you... you have a notification. Since what happened last night, you haven't checked any of your notifications, but... this one... it's from someone you trust...

Idia was absolutely enraged. He could barely even believe what just happened. You have nothing. He is the only person in the world offering you comfort and support, and you just... YOU JUST WRITE HIM OFF LIKE HE'S NOTHING?!

[Gloomurai_] : hey, is everything OK w/ you?

[Gloomurai_] : i just saw you havent rlly been online since what happened

[Gloomurai_] : not that i blame you obv

[n3k0-ebi] : hi gloomy

[n3k0-ebi] : things haven't been great... lol.

[Gloomurai_] : i heard youre single again btw

[Gloomurai_] : that must suck

[Gloomurai_] : i hope this doesnt sound too forward but uh

[Gloomurai_] : is there anything i could do to help?

[n3k0-ebi] : definitely not, but thx for offering

[n3k0-ebi] : it's enough to just know you're there :)

...but, all of a sudden, the anger leaves him. Everything leaves him. All rational thought is gone from his head... and he smiles.

"Ortho... tell the vice leader he'll be in charge of Ignihyde for a while."

"What-? Big brother, why would you-"

"I need to go home for a bit." Idia closes the chat log, and stands up from his chair. "I won't be gone long. I just need to... make a copy of a file on my pc back home and bring it back here. That's all."

Ortho didn't entirely believe his brother...

...it's raining.

It's dark, stormy, the dead of night...

And most importantly, you're alone.

You used to like being alone. Not so much now, now you just feel... unsafe.

What with all the death threats, general threats, your home address and real face now being known... you don't feel safe in your own home anymore.

It's not a pleasant feeling, yet it is one you've felt before. One you never hoped to feel again. It's such a terrible feeling, knowing you might not be safe, in the place that you very well should be...

...

There's a knock at the door.

You are NOT going to answer it.

There are a lot of things that can happen in the exact moment of danger. Time feels like it slows down, and you have to make a choice... fight or flight, your natural instincts.

The door is kicked open and you drop down to at least somewhat hide yourself thanks to your couch. Maybe that pepper spray you lost last month is under there??? Hopefully...

And then... you hear a voice. A strangely familiar, sickly sweet voice.

"Ohh (Y/N)~" It calls out... "Where are youuuu~???"

That voice... you know that voice... you've been in a voice call with that voice before... that voice...

It's Gloomy... someone you thought was your friend...

"(Y/N), I know you're in here. Just show me where you are already. I-I won't hurt you~!!"

You frantically run your hand along the floor under your couch, looking for your pepper spray. You can't help but hope it's under there...

You hit something that rolls out from under your couch... it's exactly what you're looking for, but it also shows him exactly where you are.

A blue glow comes closer as the long, flaming hair drapes over your couch, the tips barely touching you as you lay on the ground. Then you see his face... piercing yellow eyes, and a terrifying, sickening smile full of sharp teeth...

"There you are!"

You scramble away from him in a panic, taking short glances at where the small canister rolled...

"There's no need to look so scared, (Y/N)." He smiles. "It's me, Gloomurai, Gloomy, Idia, your boyfriend."

"W...w-what... the hell... are you talking about...?"

"Are you fucking stupid? I think it's really clear what I said, isn't it?" He scowls at you... not just any scowl, it looks like he completely despised you... before quickly returning to a sickly sweet, and clearly fake smile. "I'm your boyfriend. You're my girlfriend. We've been dating for a long time, and I'm going to be taking you home with me now! I love you so much!"

"W-we've talked a few times... a-and I guess we're friends, but... but we aren't dating!!" You yell, clenching your fists tightly. You're absolutely terrified, but you don't want to just agree with him. There's no way in hell you're going to validate this...

"Yes we are. Do you not remember? Is your single braincell working overtime trying to understand what you already know? Aww, cute kitty..." The intruder suddenly pulls something out from his pocket.

He thrusts the object at you as you avoid it by crawling on your hands and knees as fast as you can towards your small canister. You stand up in the best defensive position you can, being sure to hide your spray from this creep.

"Ugh. Why are you so stubborn?? It won't hurt as much if you just stay still!!" He rushes towards you with the object, it's clear to you now that it is a syringe...

You spray him directly in the eyes as he screeches out in pain.

You run for your front door, hoping you can get away while he writhes in pain... but you feel something prick into your neck... and being flushed into your veins...

"YOU BITCH. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!!" He screams at you as you collapse. What is this... what in the world would work this fast...?

"...wh..." You try to ask what this is, before you feel a sudden metallic taste in your mouth, and blood begins to pour out...

"You don't need to know what it is. It's better if you don't know." The intruder shushes you. "I love you so much. I love you. We'll be happy together... me and a better version of you... I'll recreate you perfectly."

...he kisses you on the lips. He wipes your blood off of his face as he pulls away... when you realize he's wearing gloves.

"It won't be long before you hemorrhage all your blood... this stuff works really fast~" He smiles. "At least you'll look pretty as you die."

Idia's life entirely went back to normal after that. In fact, it's been a year since what he did.

Your body was found, but evidence to his crime was not.

Idia is a model student at NRC, despite almost never attending class in person. His grades are phenomenal, he hands in all his assignments in time, and he's going to get a good job when he graduates...

And... in his spare time... he's programming.

Idia is programming an artificial intelligence, based on a certain someone he used to know.

His lovely girlfriend.

"Don't worry... we'll be seeing each other again soon... I'm sure of it. I'll do everything I can to make it true... I love you, (Y/N)."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

ive been following you for a while now so this feels dumb to ask but- how should we refer to you? 😭 bc in my mind you're Raven/Miss Raven (separated from the twst Miss Raven) but i'm like... maybe you go by another name and i don't know it?? 😭 also id like to ask which pronouns you use, just in case i might get em wrong !!

I’M SORRY, I’m dumb and I suck at names so I wasn’t thinking clearly back when I first started this blog 💦 I went by “Raven” because of the name of the blog and then introduced “Miss Raven” the OC a few months later.

I guess my expectation was that “Raven” was me and “Miss Raven” is the OC…? But that doesn’t really work because some readers call me “Miss Raven” and sometimes I write “Raven” without the title to refer to the OC (like, if a character’s dialogue is informal toward her) 😔 The onus is on me for failing to actually name myself and my OC distinctively.

Though I’d like to make it less confusing for everyone, I fear that it’s hard to “rebrand” my mod name that has already stuck around for ~4 years. Nothing else feels quite “right”. (Though if anyone has ideas, please let me know!) Maybe you can just slap “Mun/Mod” in front of “Raven” to indicate you’re talking to me, the blog runner, and not the OC?

As for pronouns, I generally go by she/her but I don’t mind they/them either.

[vyl3tpwny]

wauitb what the fuck i have 5000 followers

this is insane hi guys

to celebrate 5000 followers on tublr here are some facts about myself: - my favourite food is fried chicken

- my favourite food is spicy fried chicken

most of my hyperfixations fluctuate in and out, but some that don't ever seem to let me go are my little pony, half life, skrillex, undertale/deltarune

recently i have developed an unfathomable obsession with bees i have a huge bee hyperfixation i play bee swarm simulator on roblox every day and i watch bee videos and i also just designed a beesona on pony town its name is beetrice the dragon bee:

my favourite movie is probably wolf children or mr. bean's holiday or elf

im basically lucario for girls

i am like a dragon and i collect things that i like.. you can see some here:

i play a lot of instruments, mostly piano, drums, singing, and guitar/bass/ukulele. my first instrument was the drums tho which i started playing when i was 2 or something. i no longer play drums because our house is too small for a drum set right now and i dont like electronic drum kits. one day!!!!

i have had zero music lessons which is why you should also make music bc you dont need to spend life savings on music education to make chunes

non-musicians who have influenced me the most are @sterfler and @astroeden who have changed my brain chemistry forever artistically (this is not an exaggeration)

i am not allergic to anything at all somehow

im the motherfucker who will drink an entire gallon of whole milk with nothing else yeah im just kind of awesome like that

i do not drink alcohol (anymore) or smoke or do drugs or anything like that just a personal pref

i am filipino but i am also chinese and scottish and italian and polish and maybe other things

i have been openly queer since 2011

i have been a furry since 2007 or something?

i have been making music since 2007 or something....?

my first true love as a musician was queen, which (because of their older albums) was my rabbit hole into the world of progressive rock. my passion for creating music was nurtured entirely by my discovery of genesis and the album 'the lamb lies down on broadway'. the next thing that shaped me as an artist? skrillex - 'scary monsters and nice sprites'

i have really bad verbal processing issues so you can probably speak directly to me and i will have no idea what youre saying sometimes

my feelings on art change a lot but i update my topster lists every now and again

i am mostly right [hoofed] but i'm technically ambidextrous

my first concert was bruce springsteen i think it was in 2009. i still love the the boss to this day.

i'm a kitty cat

i am also a dragon

i am also a possum

i am a formless void

my first song i wrote when i was 8 was titled after a jimmy neutron reference

the second song i wrote was a fan song about the flying dutchman

i played the original dota warcraft 3 mods long before dota 2 and league of legends existed because i've been a blizzard fangirl since like 2005 and now i hate blizzard so fuck you blizzard you're evil as shit but anyway i used to try and do map development for warcraft iii games but really my favourite thing to do was build maps where i could build the biggest possible army to fight npcs for fun. one of the first videos on my thecobalion channel is a warcraft iii map someone else made. i've just now turned it off private so you can see it if you want.

my favourite kind of humour is recursive

ok thanks what i can remember about myself right now. thanks for following me!!!!

[lostinthenight-snow]

YOURE SO FUCKING PATHETIC

TW for mentions of suicide utc

So. Guess who's being threatened and told to kill themselves?

Me! Snow! Though I also go by Ember!

I think one of the biggest mistakes I made was choosing to create an rp account for a character like Sae right before season two came out. I should have known that he would be put in a tough spot with a lot of characters slating him and hating on him.

It started with one message. I wasn't that bothered with the first one, saying that Sae should have been died in Spain or something. I just deleted it because yeah, I don't wanna answer that kind of ask, but go ahead and ask it if you want to.

And then it just got out of hand, like you can see here. I don't know how hate towards Sae spreads to me as a mod, and why I'm receiving this level of hate. It's really fucking hurtful. Sae as a character shows no reflection of who Ember is as a person. That's the fun of fiction, keeping it separate from reality.

But anons have taken it too far these past 24 hours. I've turned off anon asks for a while to cool down and hope they leave me alone.

I just wanted to say to everyone here that you're free to rp pretty much any blog you like. Characterise anyone you like. Fiction has never been reality. And there is nothing wrong with 'liking' a bad character. Nothing.

And by the way! If you know my main, chances are you read the replies of my pinned post. Where I said my discord tag. Did you search it on tumblr to find me? Such dedication. Well done! My main account is lakeside-paradise. Check it out if you want.

As of now, I'm not sure what I want to do. Maybe I'll just leave here altogether. Maybe I'll make another account. Maybe I'll change this one. I just need some time to think about all this.

Alright, gang? We good? Good.

Tagging: @worlds-best-striker in case you wanted to see

[sagesparrow394]

Headcanons for if JRWI characters ended up on the QSMP

(Written by someone who’s only watched Wonderlust and up to episode 27 of Riptide) (I have also watched the first five episodes of the Suckening but I’m not included the suckers because that was a while ago and idk if my headcanons will be accurate)

So yeah the Riptide crew probably end up on Quesadilla Island because their ship crashes (rip the Albatross/Millennium Chipper)

Chip would learn Foolish is a builder and also rich and try to get close to him so he can convince Foolish to build him a new ship (bro thinks he can get off the island. lol. lmao.)

You cannot tell me Gillion and Etoiles would not be instant friends. These two are training and fighting together all the time, Gillion smiting those code monsters every chance he gets. As a result, I feel like Gillion would become very protective of Pomme, since she often trains with them too

I think Jay is probably the first of the three to properly question what’s going on on the island, and as a result probably the first to be shown the Order. I can see her getting along with Bagi

Don’t ask me how the Wonderlust crew gets there, idk, some weird magic portal stuff? Maybe???

You think Runt and Tubbo would be friends and bond over create mod? You fool. Runt would see his factories and run excitedly over, only for her face to fall in horror as soon as she steps inside and sees the mechanics. Tubbo would instantly have beef with this sixteen year old as soon she starts ranting about how his machines are not at all optimised and how she could do so much better. They are rivals

I think Blink and Phil would get along. We all know Blink is constantly Stressed, and ending up trapped on a weird island in the middle of nowhere would not help with that. I think Blink would find a sense of solace with the fellow birb man who just wants to chill and look after his kids and try to avoid Lore as much as he can. Like Gill with Pomme, Blink would develop a kind of bond with Chay and Lullah (perhaps they kind of remind him of a young Aeon and himself…)

I haven’t thought much about giving any of these guys eggs. However, I think Troy should get one. The Federation would see him and go “oh we need to give this privileged rich nepo-baby twunk real responsibility and see if he either learns to accept it, or if he fails and has to face being responsible for the death of a child”. Idk, I just think that’d be neat for his character development

Maybe I’ll add more sometime, maybe I’ll change my mind on things as I watch more Riptide and more Wonderlust comes out, who knows

[cookiescribble]

Flufftober Day 3: Favorite Scent

Ship: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Summary: A typical yet flirty morning for you and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen

A/N: hi, I was picturing this specific scene in the gif when I was writing this and I feel like that’s important to note, but also this is my first fic about matt and i'm nervous lol pls enjoy! thank you happy flufftober day 3!! - mod ghost

The early hours of the morning were always an…interesting time for you and Matt. Between his double life and your own job, it was one of the only times the both of you got any sort of peace together sometimes. 

This morning, though, you had woken up to him by your side, curled up next to you in bed with the soft light of the morning illuminating the side of his face. Seeing him like this brought a sense of comfort to you, his glasses were off so you could see all of his face while his head was laying on your shoulder. The way you were both laying made it hard to tell where you ended and he began, legs tangled together as well as in the sheets, arms wrapped loosely around one another.  

You didn’t wanna wake him just yet, carding your fingers gently through his hair as you waited for him to wake up and enjoyed the rarity of the quiet. While you were staring off into space and daydreaming, you felt him move, pressing his face closer to the crook of your neck and making you chuckle. 

“Morning, sunshine…welcome to the land of the living” You tease him with a whisper, leaning over to leave a kiss in his hair. “Sleep okay?”

“G’morning…I slept like a rock, surprisingly. Being with you helps.” Matt mumbles back, face still tucked against your neck so it muffled his voice. 

“Alright, Casanova. Do you want breakfast?” You gently ruffle his hair as you ask, feeling his hold on you tighten as he shook his head.

“Mm…I’m not ready to move yet…5 more minutes?” He groaned, turning his head toward you. He couldn’t actually see you, but his head was turned in your direction. 

“Maybe…Is there a reason you’re pressed up against my neck like that?” You answer, leaning in to be closer to him. Making your faces inches apart. 

“There are few perks to being blind, but I tend to like waking up to my favorite smell.” Matt replied simply, as if it explained everything. 

“And what would that be exactly?” You move your hand from his hair down to his back, feeling his bare skin under your hand as you went. He always slept shirtless, if he ever slept, so half the time you end up wearing his shirts. 

“You, what else would I be referring to?” he chuckled as he shifted to get a bit more comfortable, his head still on your shoulder. 

“What do I even smell like?” 

“Hmm…well, now that you mention it,” he took a comically long inhale near your neck before continuing, “hmm…coconut…and…” he took another longer one, making you laugh, “vanilla. Your shampoo and your body wash, right? Sometimes, it’s mixed with a bit of cinnamon and I can’t explain why.” Matt finished with a grin spread across his face, leaving soft kisses up your neck until he reached your cheek. 

You stared up at him for a moment with a sort of loving awe as you reached over to gently cup his cheek, watching him tilt his head toward your palm. 

“Sometimes, I don’t think you realize how incredibly sweet you are.” your voice was barely above a whisper, just admiring him as the morning light cast an orange glow over his features. 

“That’s okay, the only one that should realize already does.” He left a kiss on your palm before he started to get up, stretching as he went, “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get some breakfast.” Matt offered as he extended his hand to you, which you gratefully accepted so he could pull you up.

“What happened to not wanting to get out of bed?” You ask as you stumble over to him, a sudden yawn escaping you. 

“The smell of vanilla and coconut made me hungry,” he teased with his most infectious smile, tugging you out of the room to not only get breakfast but start the day. 

[sysmedsaresexist]

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

This is Mod Quill, but this is on behalf of a mutual friend of mine and Mod Dude's. Someone we care about a lot, and someone I'm not even going to fucking name here, because I am so fucking done with my friend suffering. Besides. You're going to know who it is if you have a lick of syscourse knowledge. I just hope they know what this might bring. If you're reading this, hon -- maybe just... delete your blogs and get out of syscourse. Make something new for yourself. Trust me, I've done that plenty of times.

Anyways.

@sophieinwonderland

Let's have a chat. Okay? I mean this completely, 1000 percent genuinely. I want to talk to you. WE want to talk to you. And we want to understand what the hell is going on with you.

Context: A friend of ours is in the hospital. This friend is in the hospital... likely because of you. Well, somewhat -- I'm not here to convince you that you, personally, are at fault for someone else's actions. You did not personally give them whatever implement of choice they used to nearly off themselves. But you have got to see that what you're doing -- what you've done for a very, very long time, causes people a lot of harm. And you have acknowledged it. Repeatedly.

You know that you do. You know you're hurting people. And you've shown constantly on your blog that you're okay with that.

This isn't the first time someone has been hospitalized after you took grievance with their tumblr blog. This is the second time someone has notably been hospitalized after interactions with you, and far from the last time someone's harmed themselves over you. I should know -- I'm a user who tried so desperately not to self harm, but you are the person who brought me to that point, many moons ago in a fit of hell and despair.

Don't worry, I'm all good -- it was barely anything. But it still stings emotionally, to this day.

The user in question who's currently hospitalized is not, and has not been stable, for a very long time. They're someone I hold dear, but I think we can all admit that people with DID sometimes struggle greatly with making really dumb choices. They've made a lot. This isn't the first time they've been in the hospital.

But Dude made a promise to them when it seemed like things were going to hell this time around, something to try and encourage things to go the right way.

Your named was tossed out too. Because of course it was. Like it or not, Sophie, you are 100% the biggest syscourser on Tumblr. You post the most and have the most followers. You are syscourse. And Dude's promise was to take syscourse down.

... But I don't think anyone in this situation really understands what that means.

Sophie, you are a person. Not a blog. Not a stance. Not a slogan, or a preacher, or whatever conspiracy you're trying to lean into next to explain away the angry actions you've shown more and more lately, to somehow explain why it's okay to say the things you've been saying, even when it sometimes, just maybe, seems like... you just don't want to.

As people may know, a (from my perspective, horrifically written, incredibly inaccurate, and only harmful) callout post for Sophie was recently posted to syscourse. What people don't know is that I, Mod Quill, was approached to help write it. Mod Dude was involved in the callout post as well, though to what extent I don't know.

I flat out refused to work on it. And that's because I knew exactly what would happen. I knew my friend would be hurt, or maybe even hospitalized over this. I knew that syscourse -- that Sophie -- would drive someone over the edge again. I knew that the document -- filled with inaccuracies and vaguities and nothingburgers to the max -- would be easy for Sophie to pick apart, easy to dismantle, and it would all start with debunking so much of the very real pain and suffering my friend has gone through.

And yeah.

I was right. Go figure. Maybe I should've done more, my brain inevitably says, I need to help everyone, I should've fought harder to prevent this... Dumbass brain.

Sigh.

Dude edit/addition: I knew the doc was coming, and while I won't say that I was supportive of it going out (I made the owner sit on it for several weeks), I made no effort to stop it. Having made my own callouts on sophie (and Quill, you have, too), I understood the need, and the positives and negatives. I knew Sophie could handle it. I was approached to read and check it, as my posts had been used in it. I even offered to help add to it, though... I ended up being completely unable to. I still can't actually remember anything in the doc. I'm doubting if I actually read it because it seems I retained nothing from it. This likely stems from the fact that I have been in contact with Sophie for several weeks now, getting to know her. I'm so incredibly conflicted on this topic that I chose to stay out of it publicly from start to finish, without comment or publicity. For the first time since I started my blog, I'm not feuding with anyone, I'm having such amazing conversations with people, I feel like I'm making more of a difference than ever before. Certain people have left me alone as I stayed under the drama radar.

I'm so tired of being angry...

My thoughts on the doc and sophie are complicated. I'm sorry to anyone that was hurt through my uncertainty. Instead of helping with the doc, we talked about life, experiences, medicalization, and I was... so happy. I don't think that I really thought beyond... "I wish I had spoken to some of these people sooner."

It's important to note that I don't blame the doc or author for any of this.

Syscourse, as a whole, does not address any sort of recovery, or help, or even just acknowledgement of the issues we are facing, as human beings, as systems, as people on this earth. It is just slinging words at each other with varying degrees of value. And I'll be the first to admit that I have relished that battleground. I have loved the feeling that I might be able to throw the right words or the right punches and get someone to either change, or deactivate. I've also wrestled with those feelings, tried to explain them away, mirroring what I see on Sophie's blog constantly.

But as more and more time goes on and I grow up and I see the damage that's done to me and my friends, I have grown to absolutely despise this place. I try my best to spread what joy I can. I also know it's really not enough.

Sophie, I have sent you, if I had to hazard a guess, at least 10 anons this past year, all of them variations on themes. Either positivity, begging you to take a break, or explaining to you in excruciating detail how I know you are hurting people, and why that hurts so badly. And... each and every single one of those have been met with dismissal. With that godforsaken shrug emoji that convinced me for years that you just... did not care, at all, about other people.

And this isn't just you. I know I'm coming at you, but that's because you are the biggest source of Syscourse Grief(tm) for this particular friend. But lord knows people get enemies here, that's just par for the course. So, this goes for everyone.

Learn to fucking care about each other, for fucks sakes.

God, this really is a ramble. I thank everyone who's bearing with me.

For syscourse in general: Stop. Just... stop. For those who are considering it, just stop for a bit, and witness. Watch. See what happens. Because the ones who are obstinate -- primarily the overly aggressive anti-endos and pro-endos -- will fling their vitriol at each other. It will just get worse and worse, and you can witness syscourse eat itself alive.

For my friend in the hospital: I've already given you some advice, but genuinely, I really, really hope you take care of yourself. I pray that, when you get back, you maybe set syscourse aside. At most, discord is there, and that seems to at least be tamer. But you are young. You have so much future ahead, and coming from someone who is (unfortunately seen as) an older system, I can promise you that it gets beter.

For Dude: GO TAKE A FUCKING BREAK. You are recently retraumatized, recently through a severe surgery, and you are out here promising shit like "I'll burn syscourse to the ground for you"??? Play a fun game and pay attention to your fucking partners, take a fucking break and take care of yourself. Syscourse will wait for you. People will come and people will go, and it doesn't fucking matter. Your life is what matters and I'm so fucking scared watching you obsess over this one, small aspect of it. I'm so relieved you went to that fun pokemon blog. You aren't alone, you are so loved, and don't let this toxic ass place make you forget that.

And Sophie.

I'm going to give Dude a link to send to you. You don't have to take it if you don't want to. You don't even need to acknowledge this if you don't want to. But I'm swinging the door open and offering the olive branch. I know you don't use Discord much, but for gods sake, it's better than Tumblr DMs, and we both know how Tumblr is a mess.

I really hope you'll take me up on it.

And for everyone else.

Wait till you see what happens next.

Edit from Mod Quill: Well, what's next is evidently a need for clarification and yet another callout post. Hello, callout-post author. Thank you for your clarifications. Notably, I attempted to keep your URL out of this, for those who didn't know.

Anyways, for the fullest disclosure and context: I was approached by Mod Dude, who asked if I wanted to participate in "Sophie Drama, Anonymously." I agreed, though I'll admit I was hesitant due to my particular issues with that user. I was then added to a group chat involving an enormous callout post. Notably, it should be mentioned, callout posts are a major trigger of ours that we are still working on overcoming.

I clicked the document and saw it was a mess of grammar mistakes, poor formatting, and impossible for me to read without trembling. But given that I already have an intense distaste for the user who posted it, I wasn't about to tell them more personal details about myself, and I did not want to communicate with them any further due to my own fear of the instability of all those involved. I told them I disliked the callout post due to harassment that it would cause, that I feel Sophie is a person, and that they had better have contacted the user who was hurt -- who is once again revealed in the callout, unfortunately.

I tried to laugh it off and move on, and take care of my mental health. That's what I was lamenting above; the fact that I didn't say more. I felt bad that I didn't allow myself to damage my mental health further to craft a callout post -- something I have tried desperately to avoid since the one I made the mistake of writing years ago about the very user you wrote this callout post about -- and something I get roped into constantly.

I privately read the rest of the document after it had been posted in full, as I still have access to it and it is a publicly posted document. It was filled with things that I found to be either nothing important in particular (things that have already been discussed numerous times) or things that would just be inflammatory (i.e. the OAS sections). I talked with a friend on Discord about the document, to which we both agreed it was bad.

To the OP of the document: I didn't say any of this at the time because, as I said, I felt uneasy and could not be in that group chat. I explicitly said I would not be touching "it" (the group chat). I was taking care of my mental health.

I refused to work on it because, based on my past experiences and triggers, which I do not owe you and still alluded to anyways in my conversations with you, I knew it would end poorly. I tried my best to sway you in the moment, but I was not able to do so because of my own mental health.

So, yes, to clarify: My grievances with the document were not made known to the one who posted it, whom I never mentioned in the original post. I do not condemn the poster of the document. I was simply making my feelings about callout posts known. What is above is not a condemnation of the callout writer, nor a comment on them at all. I genuinely did not want the point of this post to be lost due to callout-post drama.

So let me reiterate the important part of all of this.

This post was about the state of syscourse and how people do not approach syscourse in a good way. It is constantly slinging hate at people, which is never justified.

Learn to fucking care about each other, for fucks sakes.

---

Mod dude, here...

I want to add something to this, but I don't know what. I mean, Quill said it all, quite well.

Hurt people... Hurt other people.

I've made the attempt, over the last year or so, to actually talk to some of the bigger names in syscourse, the ones usually active in the tags, endos and antis alike.

It reinforced that... we're all just fucking people, trying to get by.

Antis, have you even tried to empathize with the community you attack so quickly and cruelly? Imagine if people said those things to you or about CDD systems. Have you, personally, witnessed the things you claim are happening? Because I've been here a lot longer, and it seems you're making shit up. Consider that you should stop parroting everything you hear and stick to what you're actually seeing with your own eyes.

Endos, please don't forget that these are severely traumatized individuals that have probably never even been to therapy yet. If you're not yet, maybe you should get into therapy-- it doesn't automatically mean there's anything wrong, but everyone could use someone to talk to, and seeing what it's like could be really beneficial to understanding the other side and getting an unbiased view of your own behavior and beliefs.

These are real fucking people that are ending up in the hospital.

Quill, the rest of my mods, and I are real fucking people behind these screens.

Sophie is a real person. They just got a new dish washer that they saw on Circ's blog, I missed it, but she linked it to me, and now I'm looking at it. She's going to let me know how it works.

And you know what? This little countertop dishwasher feels a hell of a lot more real and important than anything in syscourse.

As Quill mentioned, I just went through a major surgery. I'm learning that...

I'll probably never be able to walk properly again. My life is forever changed, and I'm really struggling.

My cat just... passed. Feel free to go like that post, it would mean a lot to me.

None of you know that. The people who leaked my main and smeared my wonderful name don't know that.

Sophie didn't know that the last time we fought each other.

My friend didn't know that when I promised him I would bring syscourse down.

Maybe bringing it down isn't the answer.

Maybe just reminding you all that we're all people behind the screen is enough.

Fucking TALK to each other.

Make an attempt to learn and understand.

Talk about things that actually matter.

Grow the FUCK up.

Reblog to share a hug, because that's more worthwhile.

And most importantly.

Please keep our friend in mind while they're in the hospital.

Syscourse community, endos and antis, this is one of our own. A person you've likely interacted with before, that you've seen around.

We exist in this small bubble, all together. Whether we like it or not.

[emphasisonthehomo]

OOh, i like streamer au!

First question: how did Tommy begin to stream?

Second question: does tommy recognised Buck from the chat? Maybe he has an inkling given by an unique turn of phrase or a weird word he is the only one to use.

third question: how does Buck recognising him change their first meeting and their date?

Fourth question: which is your favourite part? What didnt make the cut but was an interesting concept?

Obviously, i love your writing, i'm always giddy when you post anew snippet and i don't even watch 911!

Omg thank you so much!!!

Twitch Streamer Tommy

ONE:

I think it started out as a joke tbh. Like one of his friends was visiting and saw Tommy's truly ridiculous set up for it, and was like "Dude you should stream this" and Tommy thought "Eh, fuck it" and did. And it picked up fast and does surprisingly well, so he just keeps doing it.

It's big enough that it's a little extra income, but not so huge that he's a Big Name re: gaming streamers or anything. He's got some friends in Europe or something that help him mod the chat. People keep telling him to make t shirts, but that sounds like too much work and he's already fucking busy, so he doesn't.

He does at one point get a 'remove before flight' t shirt at an air show, and wears it on a stream one time and takes it off before takeoff, and people go fucking nuts.

TWO:

I think Tommy would recognize Buck's handle as someone who is frequently in chat and is pretty active, but I don't know if he'd make the connection about the handle name actually being Evan, without Buck saying something. Tommy does interact with the chat a lot, but he is also actively flying while he streams. It's a lot of glancing over, seeing a question, and answering it. In Tommy's mind the chat is kind of it's own entity, instead of a bunch of individual people.

THREE:

Buck hasn't really conceptualized that what he has on Tommy is a crush. He just thinks Tommy's cool. And then he's suddenly being flown into a hurricane by the man, and it turns out Tommy actually flying is somehow hotter more interesting than Tommy playing a video game. Because this is real. This is actually life or death, and Tommy's a fucking excellent pilot and Buck is. He's just flustered. About it.

Buck's trying to find a delicate way to be like "ARE YOU REMOVEB4FLIGHT?" even though they're on the tail end of the cruise debacle, but Eddie beats him to it. Eddie just asks Tommy point blank "Do you play video games online? I think my son watches your show" and then Tommy gets flustered. Obviously pleased and surprised, because he's never been ~recognized IRL~ and the first time he has, it's by a peer because his kid watches. There's something really exciting about that.

I think it's Christopher that tells Tommy that Buck also watches the streams and how it's a Thing They Do Together. (Chris, of course, gets to learn how to play flight simulator on Tommy's ridiculous setup) And Tommy's like "huh" because Evan didn't say anything. Buck is stewing in jealousy because how come Eddie gets to hang out with the cool firefighter pilot and Chris, instead of him? Eddie doesn't even care about the streams >:(

I don't think Buck asks for a tour, he hears about the Vegas trip after the fact and is just green with envy. But I do think the basketball game still happens, and Tommy comes to Buck's apartment to clear the air. Because Tommy now knows that Buck is vaguely a fan, and Buck knows that Tommy knows, I don't think there'd be a smooch.

The added aspect of Entertainer and Fan would make it kind of weird, they're not necessarily on a level playing field (yet). Buck isn't starstruck per se, but he's also not just another firefighter Tommy met on a job. Tommy sticks to assuming that yes, Buck is jealous, but that it's a combination of Eddie being his bestie and Tommy having minor amounts of internet fame.

BUT THEN they do start hanging out, both with and without Eddie and/or Chris, and become friends. And Tommy starts to look at Evan and go "...is he?" and Buck is oblivious because he's hanging out with Tommy and Tommy's so cool and yeah he's got a good ass but it's not like Buck is staring at it a lot (he is) and Eddie is looking at the two of them dance around each other and going "HUH. INTERESTING."

FOUR:

I think it's just a fun concept in general, and I do love it when there's more of a slow burn when characters get together. Friends to lovers is *chef's kiss* and all that jazz.

I did think about including snippets of Tommy interacting w/ the chat, but ultimately scrapped those because it seemed like too much extra stuff. But I think at least once a stream, something like this happens:

Chat 1: so is there a Mrs. B4FLIGHT?

Tommy: *snorts and starts laughing*

Mod 1: no

Tommy: "I'm not interested in women."

Mod 2: dumb comments will result in getting blocked

Chat 2: you don't look gay

Mod 1: BLOCKED

Mod 2: BLOCKED

[wickblr]

October is coming up soon! What if we had a spooky Wicktober event, like those writing events with a prompt for each day of the month (or every other day or something)? People could answer the prompts with a piece of writing or a drawing, and the prompts could be things like:

Helen Wick’s Ghost

Vampire AU

Serial Killer Santino

Dog’s Halloween Costume

That sort of thing! Would anyone be interested in that?

I’m supposed to be replying w nothing but this is a great idea!

This should have been done like a month ago but I really didn’t think anyone would be interested, so, uh anyways;

I’ve made 2 versions of this since I know a lot of the writers on Wickblr are adults who only do writing as a hobby, so here’s both Wicktober and Wick Week! I don’t know if there’s been a writing event for the John Wick community, but here!

Wicktober is a month long event where people submit their drabbles/fics based off the prompts listed! Considering we aren’t really a strict fanbase, you can switch around the days and prompts—skip a day or few, or just do one! You’re free to use this as a writing ask game for October. Any day can be switched around except Day 24 which is the ten year anniversary of the first John Wick movie and the John Wick series as a whole (happy birthday to the movies!!!)

Feel free to run rampant on the prompts with your own interpretation of it, be more symbolic, be more realistic—just as long as you want to contribute to this event and want to write for it.

Wick Week is a seven day long event, which can be started on any day in October honestly since it’s a week of prompts. It has the same thing going as with Wicktober.

Rules:

- No harassment (some anons are really mean when it comes to people’s writing which is no good since Wickblr is a pretty damn small community)

- No derogatory comments made in the ask box of this blog since I know SOME people really wanna fucking discuss how “bad” some fics are (which you should write yourself if you really think it’s that bad)

- NSFW is allowed, and unlike this blog; x readers, x OCs are allowed, or cc x ccs (ex: helen x john which I will be doing on @marquisedegramont if you wanna see that)

- Make sure to tag #wicktober 2024 or #wick week 2024

- Creators can produce fics/drabbles or drawings

- Add the necessary warnings before every fic, thank you! Some fics may be triggering for some people and they would appreciate warnings beforehand :)

- Post it on ao3! (If you want)

- Do as little or as much as you want. Be self indulgent

- Prompts are free to use after October ends

shameless plug from the mod: art -> @evrensadwrn | writing -> @marquisedegramont and on ao3

and also my furry friends: art -> @tobytheeggo | writing -> @bluelolblue

reblog maybe ?

cr ; cross divider