#like generally if a fic has been updated within a year at ALL I don’t assume it’s abandoned???

[lesbiansanemi]

I know people have always been weird with fic updates but I swear recently people have been even more impatient and weird about it. I get comments on fics that have been updated WITHIN A MONTH asking if it’s been abandoned or when it’s going to continue. Like…. My guy…. Idk where you’re from that fics are apparently getting updated like fucking daily but you need to chill

[reidsrambles]

Your writing is amazing!!!!

Thank you so much! Any feedback on my writing seriously means the world to me. I do hope to write a full romance novel one day, so this entire fanfiction endeavour is largely to improve my writing!

As a thank you to you and to anyone who follows me or has read my last (aka, my first) fic, I'm going to share the first 1,000 or so words of my next fic, which will most likely be relatively long and in multiple parts. Because this piece is unfinished, this content contained in this preview is subject to change.

Preview (unnamed, release date TBD)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader General synopsis: You and your best friend Penelope Garcia work together as technical analysts for the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. You and Spencer Reid have developed a romantic relationship since you've started there, but you both have decided to keep it to yourselves in order to avoid external influence from the team and additional complications at work. Unexpected events threaten the sacred secrecy of your relationship and you fear for the future and for the relationships you and Spencer have with your team. CWs (preview): Reader recalls, on page, being shamed for her creative outfit choices in the past. Words (preview): 956

[This preview is entirely SFW, but the finished work will be 18+ NSFW, so keep that in mind. The CWs listed are for the preview only. CWs and TWs for the final story will be posted whenever that is.]

Penelope Garcia finally shows herself at 10:08 a.m. As usual, she rolls into your shared office with the force of a tornado.

“Alrighty, Miss Y/N, we need to discuss the plans for your birthday party soon. I need a guest list because I need to figure out how much food I’m ordering and where we’re going to have it, since your apartment is pretty small and mine is only marginally bigger. I already asked him, and Rossi did say we could have it at his house, so that’ll probably be the best option.”

Before she takes her seat, she takes notice of your scowl and crossed arms, and her face falls. “Wait, what did I say wrong?”

“First of all, Penn, my birthday isn’t for another two months, and I told you that I’m fine with it just being you, me, and the team. Secondly, where have you been!? I’ve been here since nine, and it’s now…” you check your non-existent watch for dramatic effect, “past ten. You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. Penelope Garcia, unreachable? I assumed that you were, quite literally, dead.”

“Two months is extremely soon when party-planning, I shall have you know! Wait, did I not tell you about that meeting I had with Hotch this morning?” she asks, genuinely puzzled.

Your curiosity is piqued. “No, but spill! Meeting with Hotch? What about?”

Penelope takes her seat, and you slide your swivel chair over to hers. Elbows on your knees and chin resting on your fists, you await her update like an excited child.

“It’s nothing that exciting, unfortunately, my sexy, salacious sidekick.”

“Don’t make me call HR again, Garcia,” you whisper. You give her a quick peck on the cheek and roll yourself back to your desk, only a few feet away, to resume working.

She drops a bomb as if it’s nothing. “Strauss wanted an update on how the team was doing, having two technical analysts. That’s all it was.”

The FBI hired you to work as a technical analyst with the Behavioral Analysis Unit just shy of your 25th birthday. You and your best friend Penelope Garcia met while she was presenting on behalf of the FBI at your then-school and her alma mater, Caltech. You were just starting your final year of undergrad in computer science, but you were unsure of where you wanted to go after that. The presentation was on the various technology careers within the FBI, of which technical analysts are one. You guessed that it made sense to try to recruit from one of the world’s most prestigious universities. She confidently marched up to the microphone wearing a bright pink pencil skirt, pink tweed jacket, and a cat ear headband, and you immediately knew you had to talk to her after the presentation, regardless of what she said up there.

You were always the one, even in high school, who had to match your outfits and accessories to a specific theme or color. You always dressed a bit more out there, and people have specifically chosen to bring it up to you before. In your first term of university, one professor mentioned your outfit as an example of how not to dress in a professional workplace. She was a woman, too. It probably wouldn't have hurt so badly coming from a male professor, but being shamed by a female professor did a number on your self-esteem.

Thankfully, your mom has always been your number one fan and biggest cheerleader. When you cried to her about your experience in class, she gave you the pep talk of a lifetime about how the world needs more people who are authentically themselves to bring color to the lives of the boring. She said you'd be the best computer scientist and look amazing while doing it. Mom's the oil painter, and your dad is an accountant, so the advice was very on par for her but extremely meaningful as well. Seeing another colorful, authentic woman, let alone one with a job at the FBI—which you had always viewed as a stuck-up, cold, and refined place to work—was immensely inspiring.

In addition to talking about technical analysts, she discussed the careers of digital forensic examiners, IT specialists, and computer scientists. She seemed so normal and down to earth, and you felt so excited by her presentation that you were actually taking notes. After her presentation, you headed over to see if you could speak with her. Before you could even start, she loudly gasped and began complimenting your outfit. You were wearing a lemon print sundress that day (since it was so hot), and you paired that with your lemon wedge purse, lemon slice necklace, and a matching yellow headband. Your gray backpack stood out like a sore thumb, but unfortunately, your laptop didn’t fit in your small citrus purse.

Penelope gave you her card, and you two became fast friends, and later, best friends. She really took you under her wing and literally became the older sister you never had. You knew you wanted to utilize your skill set to help fight crime, and right after you finished your masters, Penelope convinced her boss to hire you to work under her. Her cave was cozy with the amount of equipment she had in there, but being her best friend, she made room for you. Penelope had told you about how amazing her team was, but you had no clue what you were truly in for at the BAU.

“So after being here for two whole years, Strauss wanted to know if I was needed or if I could be cut from the team? That’s your idea of ‘no biggie’?” you ask, exasperated.

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist | Add yourself to my tag list

[idolatrybarbie]

odd couple

pairing: established francisco "frankie" morales x reader

word count: 2.5k

rating & summary: explicit, mdni! | frankie can't cook, to put it lightly.

tags: no trigger warnings needed for this one, porn with (little) plot, rated e like woah, frankie needs a win, very unedited as of initial posting, stubborn!frankie, premature ejaculation, handjobs, cumplay, overstimulation, sub!frankie moments, multiple orgasms, spit kink/drooling, #petnames4frankie, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, reader calls frankie "wet" in this idk that might not be your thing i guess. look man it's been a hard week.

notes: it's not wednesday and i am struggling a lil' bit (might make a personal life update soon idk ?) but i am being such a brave little toaster about it! writing this definitely made me feel better. when it comes to music, this weezer song is a little generic within their discography but whatever, i like it. hope you enjoy! also everyone go read @wannab-urs sub!max phillips fic because i say so and it's awesome.

You listen to Frankie move around the kitchen from your spot on the couch, trying your very best to ignore the occasional clang and clattering noise that flows out from the distant doorway. Tonight, he has taken on the task of making the two of you dinner. Or trying to, anyway. You don’t cook much either. Your job, like his, doesn’t lend much time to it. Takeout is more than often what’s on the menu—Burger King, of all things, is his favourite.

You know how to cook though. Every once in a while you have the spare time to whip together something truly delicious; slow-roasted pork belly, or maybe a nice pasta with garnish. Frankie doesn’t seem to know his ass from the oven.

The two of you have had this conversation hundreds of times. You stating that he can’t cook, and him pushing back, insisting that he can. Or he could, before the service stuck him with single meal MREs for a number of years and he lost most of the culinary knowledge given to him by various tías, his abuela, and of course Mrs. Morales herself.

His stubbornness spurs the occasional urge to throttle him. It’s fine you can’t cook, you always tell him. Not like he can’t still learn. Still, he insists, and insists on insisting on top of that.

Honestly, you couldn’t be more of opposites. Even excluding skills of domestic labour, he and you are a bit of an odd couple. Frankie’s an early mornings guy, always, while you enjoy a sleepy Sunday—or just about any day that ends in Y. He hates the horror movies you fawn over, while you can’t stand the nature documentaries and sappy celebrity biopics that he eats up year over year. Frankie is highly detail-oriented, the engineer instinct in him always angling towards rigid preparedness; you’re a bit more goal-focused, letting any plan morph and adjust according to the situation.

Another such cooking conversation had taken place on the drive home after declining Frankie’s offer of McDonald’s for the fourth night this week, and now here you are: listening to the man curse under his breath, muttering complaints from the kitchen as he tries his hand at homemade spaghetti.

The kitchen is silent for a moment. You go back to channel surfing, clicking past reruns of Golden Girls and M*A*S*H*. Stopping at a channel playing the cinematic masterpiece Grease 2, you focus your attention on the open doorway behind you again. It feels almost too quiet…

A string of hushed, panicked curses from Frankie confirms your suspicions. Getting off the couch, you use the soft overhead light to guide you through the dark apartment. Frankie is standing over the stove when you see him, quickly moving away and towards the sink. Water splashes into it, surely scalding as steam rises into the air. Or maybe that’s coming from his ears?

You clear your throat in the kitchen doorway, and Frankie turns to you. His face is slightly red, a silver pot held in his grip by the towel-covered handle.

“Is everything okay?” You already know the answer to that question—aggravation rolls off of him in waves, permeating the space between the two of you like a mirage in the Mojave Desert.

Frankie opens his mouth to respond, but the words never come. He does this a few times, wracking his brain for the proper way to put it as he parts and pleats his lips, living up to his call sign.

Eventually, he settles on, “No.”

He heaves a deep sigh, tossing the pot onto the counter. Getting a closer look at it, you see the charred spaghetti noodles stuck to the shiny bottom.

“Don’t, okay?” Frankie says before you look up again.

“What?”

“I know what you’re gonna say. I told you so, blah blah blah. I know. You’re right. I can’t fuckin’ cook.” The words are rushed, like he’s half-embarrassed to even say it.

You frown, reaching an open palm out to him as you shake your head. “That’s not what I was going to say.” You motion for him to come closer and he does, slipping into your arms as you hug at his tense shoulders. “It’s okay. You can take a class, or we can work on it together. I think that’d be kind of fun,” you say.

Picturing making something with Frankie—maybe bowties and broccoli, something simple—has you smiling into his shoulder. For his birthday last year you made red velvet cupcakes with sour cream frosting. The recipe is a little more complicated, but baking them with him this time is a pleasant idea. You already know he’s the type of person to lick the batter off the beater.

“I don’t want to do that to you,” he says.

You pull back from the hug to look at him, those big brown eyes of his crinkled at the far edges. “You’re not doing anything to me,” you say. “At least, not right now.”

A small smile comes to his face then, creeping and dopey before Frankie gives you a soft kiss at the tip of your nose.

“They should really give you a Netflix special or something,” he says.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night,” you muse.

Still in your arms, Frankie glances over at the pot of blackened, noodle-shaped mush. “What are we gonna do for dinner?”

Right now, he’s in the closest proximity to you that he’s been all week. At least, while you’ve both been conscious. Work has you staying later and later at the office these days, while his shifts handling flight operations have him drained, in bed and fast asleep well before you even get home. Tonight is special even if it hasn’t gone the way either of you planned.

You hum, dipping your head to nose at the patchy beard along his jaw. “I’m thinking we skip dinner.”

“Come on, seriously,” Frankie says.

“I am serious.” Leaving a wet kiss on his cheek, you whisper, “Don’t you want your dessert, Francisco?”

A hum rumbles low in his chest. “Of course, but—”

“But nothing.” You move your left hand to cradle the side of his face, his skin smooth under your touch. He leans into its warmth. “I’m hungry.”

You know that he is too. At your words, Frankie practically jumps you, a kiss pressed to your lips hard before your brain can catch up with what’s happening. He holds you in his arms tight, like if he loosens his grip even a bit, you’ll float away. The pair of you move out of the kitchen and back into the living room, the horrible 80’s movie still dancing across the pixels of the TV.

Frankie falls onto his back, bouncing against the couch cushions. The remote is underneath him, the mute button conveniently hit upon his landing. The cheesy show tunes cut out immediately. You move to straddle him as he lays horizontal. Frankie cranes his neck a bit to watch you as you settle over the crotch of his sweatpants. He’s half hard under the fabric already.

Frankie pulls you down into another bruising kiss. You hunch over to meet his lips, his hands circling around your waist. You’ve decided to take the Frankie approach to tonight’s activities; cool and calculated in your plans and decisions on how this is going to go. Grinding your hips down, you watch his face carefully. He huffs out a breath, soft and peppery like the cinnamon gum he keeps in his car.

You reach between your bodies to feel him in his pants. Frankie kisses at your face, quick and sporadic as you palm at him. He moves to lift your shirt off your body and you let him, raising your arms to help him. He tosses the thing to the floor and lets his hands rove over your skin. Continuing your ministrations, you slip your hand beneath the elastic waistband of the grey sweats. Frankie has no underwear on, a pleasant surprise.

“Fuck,” he groans, nosing at your neck.

“What’s wrong, honey bun? Doesn’t that feel good?” you ask, slowly pulling your hand away.

“Yes, please. Do it again?” His voice strains deliciously, the muscles in his arms held taut.

Frankie relaxes only slightly when you return your palm to where he’s hot and achy, cock wet at the tip. You run your thumb along the head of his dick as he pushes his hips up into your touch. You slide the pad of your finger along his shaft, spreading the dampness.

“Aw baby, you’re already a little wet. Isn’t that sweet?”

You start to stroke him in earnest, the tight circle of your hand moving up and down his cock. The movement is a little dry, your skin dragging against the sensitive velvet of him. You push his shirt up his belly, pulling his pants to his knees easily. Then you spit into your palm, jerking him off easier this time.

“Fuck baby. Just like that,” Frankie pants. He’s moving his hips with your hand now, fucking up into it on every down stroke. With your free hand, you prod at the small dip at his hip, feeling the muscle tense beneath the skin.

“Bet you feel so good, baby. Nice and easy for me,” you coo.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

You twist your hand at the end of every movement upwards, fingers rubbing over Frankie’s tip as he leaks steadily onto himself. The glide is easy now, lubed with your saliva and his precum. The squelch makes your mouth water as you watch his cock disappear and reappear in the shadow of your fingers.

He puts one of his hands over yours, urging you to go faster. Your hands move together over Frankie’s dick, picking up the pace as the sticky noise turns into a slap with every thrust of his hips.

Frankie breaks pace, stuttering on a caught breath before he spills over your hand and onto his belly. You pause to watch his chest tense and then loosen, his eyes shut tight as he comes down. Raising your hand to your lips, you lick a bit of his cum from the edge of your fingers. It’s the first thing Frankie sees when he opens his eyes again, making him groan. The noise sounds almost painful.

“That was—”

“Amazing?” you supply.

Frankie wheezes a laugh. “Something like that.”

“What about a second helping?”

He furrows his brow, then looks down at his dick. It lays limp and spent on his stomach. “I don’t—”

“Please,” you implore oh-so-sweetly. Frankie sees big eyes batting at him, a twinkle of adoration. The intent behind it is a little more Kubrick, but he doesn’t know that yet.

He can’t say no to you, doesn’t want to anyway. Frankie nods, mumbling a yes at you. His cock twitches with interest when you drag a finger through the pool of cum on his belly and pop it in your mouth. You smile at Frankie as you take him in your hand, strokes slow as he hardens again.

Leaning into his body, you flick your tongue against the shell of his ear. “So, so wet honey. This all for me?”

“Yeah, shit—I can’t,” he mumbles.

“But it feels so good,” you say. “Wish you could see your cute little face. I love seeing you like this.”

Frankie’s face waivers between tightly wound and relaxed in pleasure. You’re using his own cum as lube now, hand practically sloshing across his cock. He tries to keep his eyes open, watching your movements as you sit patiently in his lap, jerking him off.

Your underwear is ruined, the cotton soaked through as you discreetly rock yourself against the rough seam of your pants. You’ll take care of yourself later. Right now, all of your attention is on Frankie. This reward is his punishment. It’s the slightest bit petty, but you can’t let his stubborn behaviour go quite yet. You aren’t an I told you so type of person, but this? This is perfect.

You stroke at him on autopilot, watching the middle distance between the fine thatch of hair at Frankie’s pelvis and his skin coated milky white. He comes with a flinch before you even realize, still moving as he hisses. He’s still hard when he’s done, solid under your touch, so you continue.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you say softly.

“Oh god,” he whines, eyes rolling back.

“Does it hurt baby?”

Frankie doesn’t speak, can’t, nodding frantically up at you.

“You want me to stop? All you have to do is tell me.”

He doesn’t—not with words or the shake of his head. He likes this, and both of you know it. Frankie gets off on the pain, a pleasure so hot that it burns; water blazing to the point that the sensation runs cold, delicate skin held close over a candle flame.

Frankie starts to squirm. You hold him down by the shoulder with your free hand, fingers spread over his overheated skin with a firm press. His whole body is sweaty, soaking a runway down the front top half of his t-shirt.

“Please, please, please.”

He breathes your name, barely getting the syllables past his lips. You never find out what he’s begging for. He probably doesn’t quite know either.

His dick and his mind can’t seem to agree on what they want. You watch this war play out, a losing battle. Every few seconds he presses his hips to the couch, trying to stay out of your reach. Then he slots his hips forward again, seeking out your hand directly.

Finally, Frankie seems to find his words. “Fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t. I’ve got no more, baby, please.”

“One more, honey. You can do that, can’t you? Just one.”

“Mm, shit. It’s—it hurts. It hurts,” he says.

“I know, baby. You’re so sweet for me, so good. I know you can do it,” you assure him.

Leaning down, you position your mouth over him. You let the spit sitting in your mouth pour past your lips, drooling onto his throbbing cock. The saliva slides down his length slowly as Frankie moans at the sensation.

The added slick makes everything wetter, truly soaking as you jerk him off faster. Frankie starts to babble nonsense between short, tripping moans. A split-second decision, you breathe hot air over the head of his dick. The slightest change in contact pulls his third orgasm of the night from him. Frankie cries, groaning loud as fat, wet tears roll down his cheeks. You hunch over him to give his face a kitten lick, collecting them with your tongue.

You let him go when he finishes coming, letting his dick flop against the plush of his tummy. Dragging your own shirt off the floor, you wipe at his skin and clean up your hands before tossing it back down.

Frankie finds the strength to tuck himself back into his sweatpants. He pulls at your elbow, sending you crashing gently into his side on the couch. It isn’t really big enough for the both of you to lay down. You squish yourself against his chest and shoulder, feeling his arm rest over the length of your back.

“How was that?” you ask after a while.

“A five course meal and then some,” he says. Frankie scoffs at himself, like he can’t believe what just happened. “Jesus Christ.”

You kiss his chest through his shirt, his body warm and solid against your cheek. “Nope, just me.”

[sunshinegirl29]

Postcards - Chapter 1.

Hi! This fic has been pottering around in my brain for months, I've planned and unplanned and written and deleted, but here it is!

It's my first dabble into writing so constructive criticism and such really welcomed. I'm also open to requests if you like my writing. I write for Spencer Reid, Eddie Munson and Joel Miller.

It's Spencer x Reader, 18+ eventually, slow burn - eventual warnings for abuse, SA and general criminal minds related triggers. updates will be bi monthly.

Chapter 1 – Growing Pains.

You study the form while you wait, leg bouncing against the sticky underside of the table.�� No matter the outcome, this has to be over.  The shaking letter is factual and to the point.  A long sigh. You place the envelope back on the desk, before reaching over the files to roll the rich blue fountain pen between your fingers. 

A door clicks, finally.  The familiar heavy tread of Sherrif Miller; “Hello again” he huffs, clutches the ridged back of his office chair and sits down.  You notice his metal foot drags more these days, after all this time he’s never told you how it happened and you don’t ask.  You don’t look up from the broken skin on the corner of your fingers, though you know he’ll be wearing the same sullen frown, his exasperation unhidden. You wonder if he thinks you’re making it up.

“My statement. Is that all you need?” You sigh, looking him in the eye. He shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, blanching slightly.  He doesn’t respect you, typical older generation male, feels out of control in his life and within his team so he dismisses you.  A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and Miller stands, leg creaking as he rises quicker than you thought he would at his age.

“Yes, that’s all. I’ll leave it with the rest—” You were going to protest, for the third time this month but it falls flat with the rest of Millers’ sentence.

“Hi there, I’m sad we have to meet again under these circumstances.”  You step from foot to foot, wiping both hands on your jeans.  Mason Cook is classically handsome, dark hair and light eyes; he’s the type of man who’s charming, but brooding at the same time.  From the amount of time you’ve spent at this station, you’ve seen plenty of his female colleagues fall over themselves to impress him, frankly it’s quite embarrassing but you can see the appeal.

“It’s okay Mason, Miller here was just telling me how you’re all going to put your time and resources into finding this weirdo. Right Miller?” 

You hear the scrawling of Miller’s pen stop, you definitely hit a nerve.  Mason watches as usual, he knows you’re enjoying bating his useless boss and wipes a large hand over his beard to cover his own tilted grin.

“That’s enough.” He snaps, “Cook, don’t you have work to do? We have weirdo to find and you’re my resource.”    You nod.  A subtle glance at your watch; 7:15am, you were late.

_

“Second day on the job and you’re already late?”

SSA Derek Morgan croons when he talks. He can’t help it.  It’s lead plenty of women straight to bed but right now it reminds you that a useless errand to the Sherrif’s office made you late for the most important job you’ve landed in years.

“Bite me Morgan” His laugh fades as you rush past, dipping into the roundtable room.

No one’s here.   This must be what hazing feels like?

You understand men like Morgan, women usually fall into three categories; two separate categories that had their own rules.  The first box was untouchable. These women were untouchable in every sense of the word. They usually either belonged to someone else, or meant something to him.   Garcia fell into that category, you’d deduced – they’d shamelessly flirt and are the only reason BAU’s HR department were in business.  She would always reside in the Untouchable box, regardless of how much Penelope wanted out of that particular category.  Jennifer Jaureu also belonged in that box, but in a different way.  She was Will’s – it started and ended there.  He had eyes of course; she was attractive but he loved her like family.  Then there was Elle.  She had started out in the fuckable box, but getting shot and killing Lee had shifted her into the untouchable box pretty quickly after that.  He’d dated enough women to know to stay away from that kind of trauma, besides he’d loved her like family too.  

Then there’d been you.  After months of training together, you were quite sure you now hovered between the fuckable and untouchable box.  There was something powerfully arousing knowing that the person that had your life in their hands daily, could take it instantly.  If he knew, you’d be banished to the untouchable box instantly.  

Anyway, you let him have his win. 

“You told me it was urgent. You lie!” It spurts out in a laugh, breaking the silence.

“Sorry babydoll! I’m just messin’ with you! Welcome to the team!” he pats you on the back and helps pick up the files and folders that your whirlwind entrance scattered around the small room.

You settle down in a chair opposite the door, a strategic position; able to see for potential threats and a planned exit route for any emergencies. Perfect.   It’s not long before Agent Rossi takes a seat beside you.  He gives a short good morning and a reassuring pat on the shoulder in support of your second real day on the job – it goes a long way in settling simmering nerves.

Morgan sits down, a ghost of a smirk still on his lips as he sips a third cup of steaming coffee.  He tries to hide it but you’re trained to observe, not being able to miss the roving way his eyes study you across the table.  It’s insane how an expert profiler doesn’t realise you see right through it, but maybe, you smirk back, he does and just doesn’t care?  

Garcia totters in, bright and giddy, the breath of fresh air in the stifling room.  She’s passing cups of coffee in ludicrous mugs to each person when JJ and Aaron file in together; their presence hushes the deep conversation you’re having with Rossi, leaving the intricate details of Bobby Fisher’s chess strategy dead in the water.  

“Okay, Good Morning, let’s get started.” He looks determinedly everywhere but you. JJ interrupts your thoughts with a manilla folder. 

“Three girls have gone missing and been later found murdered over the last 6 months in a semi-rural area of Georgia.”  Your heart lurches, desperate to free itself from your chest.  You take a few deep breaths, calming it into submission.   “Alison Sinclar, Cassidy Williams and Joslyn Cooper were all in their late teens to early twenties when they each went missing.”  JJ pauses, allowing Garcia to pull up pictures of each girl in a row. 

“Allison Sinclar a Senior at Georgia High School had Spring Break with her family in Senoia Georgia. She disappeared after leaving a house party at a friend’s and never returned.  She’d been strangled and posed.  She was found on the edge of farmland a few days later.” JJ blanches at the crime scene photos, turning quickly to hand out some physical copies to an empty chair.

 “Oh my! How are you all not in so much therapy?!” Garcia holds a cherry octopus’ mug in her field of vision, shielding from the unnecessarily gruesome death.

“Any evidence of sexual assault?” Emily asks. 

“Yes, extensively.” JJ nods, her voice unwavering.

Allison was someone’s child, but to this killer she had been nothing but a means to an end, a way to get off and dispose in favour of the next prize.  

The board flickered, to Garcia’s irritation and you take the time to observe the rest of the group;

  Emily Prentiss was no longer the new kid on the team, she’d taken you under her wing in the weeks leading up to your first day and you’d taken to texting her a few times a week for late night advice and tips to assimilate.  She’d been helpful but somewhat reserved in giving any personal details about herself; smart girl.  Morgan was debating the Sexual Predator angle with Aaron, who still wasn’t looking at you.  Then there was the case of the strange empty chair.

“There!” Penelope chimes “You can bow to the technical Goddess!” 

“Cassidy Williams.” Hotch cuts her off with the smallest hint of joviality “Cassidy was seventeen, she had been in and out of foster homes, in Georgia.  She was found in a wooded area on the edge of town, also strangled and posed like Allison”    

This one was a carbon copy of the first.  Her body wilted over at the waist, manipulated into a vulgar position.  A strange sensation washed over you, leaving you shivering uncomfortably.

This was enough for Garcia.  She stood abruptly, coffee splashing onto the files in the additional space at the table.  “No. Nope. I’ll be in my bat-cave if you need me.  God, I need my therapist on speed dial!!” 

Aaron nods, giving her arm a small squeeze before she leaves.  He’s never done that to you. It evokes an unpleasant sensation in your gut. 

This time he looks at you it’s short lived, if you weren’t paying attention you’d have missed it.  But he knows better. 

“Joslyn Cooper, twenty-two and the most recent death.  Hers prompted the Georgia Police Department to request our assistance on the case.  She was” JJ takes a visible breath, “Also posed but her heart was removed.” 

“Oh my god.” Whistled Rossi even a seasoned agent like him wasn’t immune to this particular horror. 

A chorus of disgust rippled around the room, it starts a debate about the significance of the heart in mythology and religion but you could only focus on the posing, something about it seemed vaguely familiar.

“Hey Sugar? Are you okay?” Morgan’s wave came into focus and you shake your head involuntarily.  It looked like he was enjoying your distraction, the toothy grin snuck onto his face and you replied in kind.

“Yeah.” You scoff, “It’s a rough one for the first case.” You placate him with the ghost of the truth and run your fingers jokingly over the sparse hair on his head on your way out the door.

A sudden motion stops you.  A flicker of movement that turns into a touch of your arm, it guides you discreetly away from your colleagues who grab go bags with muscle memory.  You’re very familiar with the huffing breath and deep frown of Aaron Hotchner.

“Aaron, don’t do this.” You say slowly and wish this wasn’t going to turn into a passive aggressive lecture.

“They don’t know.” Aaron said and you watch his chin tilt. He looks over you with a serious gaze that sits comfortably on his brow.  The one that Hayley always talked about.

It was horrifying how little they knew.  He was their boss and they knew nothing about him. It felt like a slap in the face, another reminder of how insignificant you were – or maybe it was a classic reflection of how you felt about yourself, deep down. 

“You don’t have to tell me how much they don’t know Aaron.” From your position on a spare desk in a shadowed corner of the Bullpen you scowl up at him, “They didn’t even bat an eyelid, not even Garica who has all your files!?”

Aaron breathes heavily, tongue moistening his cracked lips.  “There’s aspects of my life I want to keep private.”  It’s flat and unemotional, as you expect. “The anonymity will help you here and it keeps you safe.”   You muse for a second, chewing on his words – they’re sour and shame tinged but the faint sweetness of comfort lingers on your tongue.

“Safe.” It comes out harsher than it needed to be and you can see his regret fade back into the comfortable frown you’re so accustomed to.

Aaron sighs, grabs a briefcase from the desk and turns his back to you.

“Let’s get going. Wheels up in 30.”

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

12.06.02    

Hi you!

  I know we live three towns over and I could just pick up the phone, but this is a romantic notion I picked up from that raunchy book I found in Mama’s dresser!  Hopefully Miss Cain will let you come here tomorrow; Daddy’s going to pick up my uncle Kellen from the airport but after you should come for dinner.  I hope Mr Hartman will get this to you before then.

Love, Elizabeth.

A violent breeze calls you back, you’re not sure what happened on the drive to the airstrip but vaguely remember Jennifer’s mouth moving and something about meeting another member of the team on the plane. 

“Why do I only get to travel with you guys once or twice a year?”  Penelope gasps, hurriedly shuffling past you.  She smiles eagerly at a man you don’t recognise; he passes her a coffee in a hot pink mug that she takes gratefully. 

“Oh!” Garcia backpaddles, hands in the air.  You know she doesn’t mean any harm, but instinctually step backwards.  The cool silver of your watch clamps painfully against your wrist where she grabs it, leading you towards him.  Penelope introduces you and moves off to sit by Derek; they smile at each other like scheming children.

He’s tall and gawky, obviously flustered by the change in staffing, his previously relaxed demeanour shifts into awkward, a tight smile.

“Dr Spencer Reid nice to meet you.”  You reply in kind, glad he doesn’t extend a hand. 

You study him while he excuses himself and strides over, settling in opposite Rossi.  Dr Reid is the type of man that goes home alone to vintage first addition books, and the sound of a dripping tap he’s not there enough to be bothered to fix.  His day specific shirts are neatly folded into certain drawers, where his real wool coats hang in seasonal order.  Jennifer had mentioned his eidetic memory, which might be the least interesting thing about him.  He’s older than you, by several years at least, but still baby faced enough that the cops on cases don’t take him as seriously as the others despite his title.

“Okay, let’s get started.”  Aaron gestures and you sit down.

“All three girls have similar victimology, features and body types. He’s definitely got a type.” Your sentence trails off in a sigh without obvious reason and you’re suddenly aware of the faint hum of the jet, the only sound.  “They could be a surrogate for someone in his life, past or present someone who’d wronged him in some perceived way?”  You continue, ignoring the awkward feeling settling in your gut. 

“Yeah, looks like it but what’s with the posing?” Emily hums, looking over the photos one by one.  She doesn’t seem to flinch at the brutality of the crimes, but you can’t judge her.

“It’s interesting, the posing.” Reid states, flicking back and forth over each photo. “It’s as if he’s humiliating them—” 

“It’s dehumanizing.” You accidently cut him off, blurting out your thoughts.

 Reid is the smartest person in the room and everyone knows it, the way his eyebrows shoot into his brown curls says all you need to know on his feelings about being interrupted.

“Sorry, go ahead.” You wince.

“The manner of death is personal, intimate.  They mean something to him, dehumanized after death, no remorse.”  Each word packs a punch, the slight condescending lilt makes your blood boil. 

A minute of oppressive silence follows, something tells you they all know Reid isn’t used to being spoken over.  It’s amusing really, but ruffling feathers on your second day on the job wasn’t how you wanted this to go, so you sigh in resignation and nod, accepting his deduction.

“There’s no discernible MO but according to the M.E Report all girls were extensively sexually assaulted and all in the same manner. Which could help.” Aaron notes, frowning again.

“The unsub crosses socioeconomic backgrounds; Allison Sinclar lived in a rural but wealthy area of Georgia, her father is a retired Georgia Police Sherrif and her mother an English Tutor.”  Derek gestures to the files in your lap. 

“Cassidy’s parents are in the wind?  She’d been bouncing in and out of foster homes for years before her death. If their backgrounds mean something to him, it means he’s had enough time and space to watch them.” It’s aggravating, the seemingly random way this unsub kills young girls, but that doesn’t explain why your hands shake and the pen slips from sweaty palms. 

  It’s like magic, the way he catches it with dextrous fingers. Spencer’s eyes flick to yours for a breath and he nods tightly once again, handing it back without a word.

“That’s true. Good work.” Aaron catches your eye and nods with a tenderness you’ve not seen from anyone since your mother died, the feeling that bubbles up forces your gaze back down.

“When we land, I want you and Reid to go to the medical examiner’s office.” If Aaron wanted you to start this job with confidence, he was definitely going the wrong way about it. You flash pleading eyes at Derek who surprisingly is already watching, or rather smirking at what must be a very distasteful expression.

  Aaron continues, oblivious or unphased; “Emily and I will go to lease with the family, Rossi and Morgan, I’d like you to go to the most recent crime scene. Garcia with JJ set up at the Station, Sherrif Anderson will meet you there.”

“Brace yourself.”

Before you can question Rossi’s order the jet tips, scattering chess pieces all over along with the last dredges of your abandoned coffee.

>

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

26/09/05

Hi you!

I know in my last letter, I said I’d give up this romantic notion!  But it’s just not me.  It’s been different around here the last few months.  Mama’s sick again and Daddy’s working more on the new barn and...

Anyway, I hope Miss Cain will let you come over again soon. I’ve been… 

Love, Elizabeth.

The medical examiner’s office is tucked away in the back of an archaic local hospital.  The instruments lay neatly, shining eerily in the clinical glow.  This part of the job was always the hardest; seeing people’s loved ones, naked on a freezing table just to be dissected and stored away.  It was irrational. You knew this was a very necessary part of the job to eventually catch the unsub and put the victims to rest, but how the two girls laid out like this was just undignified.

“I’m so sorry Agents, I just stepped out for some air.”

She’s not what you expect.  British. Two grey strips of hair frame her face, the rest sleek and brown poured down her back in a glossy ponytail.  She looks about four years your senior, a jagged scar dresses her milky white false left eye.  She carries on around the room, passes a manila folder to Reid and expertly dons a protective gown. 

“I’m Doctor Annabel Clayton.  My parents and I knew the first girl Alison and her parents. They had trouble conceiving so they adopted.” Clayton sighs, looking you in the eye.  A shiver runs down your spine again, making an unwelcomed home in your gut.

“Cause of Death?” Reid asks and you frown, unsure why he had to ask.  Maybe it was just obvious to you? 

“The main cause of death was strangulation.”

“Look at the bruising pattern.” The ever-well-mannered Dr Reid cuts in curiously, squinting at the bruising.  “He did it by hand.”  

“However.”  Dr Clayton slaps down the sheet, covering the young girl’s modesty.  She didn’t look like the type of woman who was used to being talked over in her own office.  “She has some internal bleeding that would have caused her death if he’d not chosen, well, the other.”  She looked sad in a wistful dreamy way, as if a ghost. A small-town purgatory. 

“The other, Cassidy.  She was also manually strangled and sexually assaulted in the same manner.”  Finger shaped bruises bloomed angrily on her grey thighs.  They give way to more, a trail of violence ending at her neck.  The uncharacteristic prickle of tears threatens but are obediently blinked back.

“They could be sisters...” You sigh, in fact you could all be sisters.

Clayton moves on to the last girl, her brooding expression darkening.

“For obvious reasons, I’ll be keeping this poor sweetheart covered from here.”  She strokes Joslyn’s hair.  “She’s still a young girl after all, she’d want to look her best.”

“This is the worst I’ve seen in my career, especially in this area.  Her cause of death wasn’t manual strangulation.” She quips and Reid strides to your side.  The accidental intimacy of it makes your breath catch.  He smells homely, the warming aroma of old books and black coffee, you can’t help but lean into it.  

“Do you want me to carry on?”  That’ll do it. Clayton’s British lilt is like ice water, it’s embarrassing.  You’re leaning into a man you barely know and are frankly not sure you even like?

“Of course, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”  You stammer, stepping toward the teen girls ghostly face and chest. 

“She was found posed, like Cassidy.  She was leant over a tree stump with the rope around her neck. It was hung from a tree.” 

The picture she passes around is from a distance.  The rope is tied to a gnarled tree, snaking down to bind her wrists, the other hooked over her head and knotted to a taller branch.

“The unsub must be at least six foot to attempt this alone.  Unless they have a partner.” The possibility is frightening, one unsub is hard enough but two?  Say goodbye to sleep for the next few weeks.  

“Okay Agents. I need to get these girls back to their beds.”

You pause for a reply, but looking back catch Reid rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand, as if shielding them from the overly bright strip light.

“You okay there?” 

His jaw is tight, your eyes linger on the way the action accentuates the sharp corner.

“Just a headache. Let’s go.”

> 

The familiar stickiness of the Georgian heat prickles at your back dampening the linen of your shirt, it sticks to your forearms as you roll up the sleeves.  Being back here felt much like the oppressive midday sun, inescapable and suffocating. 

“How was the ME?”  Emily asks, but Reid strides past you toward a waiting Rossi.  She frowns as they disappear into the precinct together, talking animatedly about something you can’t quite hear.

“She’s interesting for sure.” You breathe, skilfully ignoring the vibration from your cell in the back pocket of your pants.

The precinct was mayhem bustling with cops that looked a little too old to be in the field but hated their wives and children too much to retire just yet.  They scramble to sit in rickety office chairs as Aaron and Rossi start to present, you wonder if they’d take your suggestions on board.

As Aaron starts to give a preliminary profile you hear words like previous history of abuse, 18 to 25, local, abandonment issues and surrogate, but you can focus on nothing but the manic buzzing of your phone again.  You’ve changed the number three times in the last 9 months and every time this son of a bitch still manages to find it. You’re seriously debating asking Garcia for help but then reconsider, it’s for the best, keeping them at an arms-length.

As the officers begin to buzz around you, taking calls from the tip line and preparing to interview locals you discreetly slip your cell out and glance at the seven new messages illuminating the screen.

12:24pm – Mason Cook.

Hey bug,

Miller said they’ve had no luck tracing the calls you’ve been having, sorry. I did try. Also, the girl from the coffee shop didn’t recognise the sketch.  I know I keep saying, but I’m sorry. Hope you’re back soon, I’ll leave the key in the normal place.

12:45pm – Unknown

I told you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s about time you paid for taking it all away from me.

[laylajeffany]

Please note the rating has been increased to mature from this point forward. There is nothing explicit or outside of the normal realm of teenage behavior, but the girls are now ridiculously comfortable with each other and now dabbling in recreational substance use, so it felt like time. Lots of Raven/Dove lore, bringing the Outcast community together under a new shared vision, and Addams family togetherness in addition to this being the Wenclair-heaviest chapter yet.  Please enjoy a 57k update of Morticia straight up:

I want to sincerely express gratitude for those who read and love my fic. I am posting on US Normie Thanksgiving because I remember how miserable I felt being trapped at my family dinners back in the day and just wanting to race home and get on online and read a fic to recover. 

I’m hoping an update from this fic can provide some relief to those of you stuck with your families who are more Sinclair-like than Addams-like - or be a treat for surviving the event afterwords if you are unable to escape. And for the sappy stuff, I do really appreciate all the love and support. I know I don’t always (re:almost never) reply to comments or engage, have turned off my messaging here, and generally don’t seek connection or build relationships within fandom. I have been through some real crazy shit online that bled into my real life, which led me to staying offline for the last six years until I was gently bullied by my beta into starting over and posting this fic. I won't ever engage online again the way I used to within a fandom, but I really do appreciate your thoughtfulness and the hours you’ve poured into reading my fic, which is no small feat. (Sitting at 1,267,000+ words at the update) I see the likes, kudos and comments and sincerely thank you for them!  BE READY for the next chapter - it's going to be a brutal second to final one. ANGST-living, more like it.

[sp00kymulderr]

Part 2 - Fire

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x afab reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: 18+, kissing, fingering, mentions of sex, details of grief, guilt, dealing with emotions in the wrong way, implied canon typical violence, reader is dealing with death of a loved one, general sadness. Please let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You’ve found a way to deal with your grief through the man who took you in, but will Joel let you have that from him when he knows better?

A/N: If you like it please please comment and/or reblog. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist.

When Joel kisses you, the whole world falls away. Not in the way of those romance movies of a time long gone, but in the way that you forget for that moment about every aching cruel emotion that’s been running through you for the last three weeks. Vaguely you feel the slide of a tear down your face – a memory of the moment of hopelessness which dissipated in the wake of his touch.

He’s soft with you, much more than you expected, the kiss is tender and slow and it feels like he is trying to tell you something – something he doesn’t have the words to express. You take those unspoken words from him, breathe them in from him and try to make sense of them. You whimper against his lips, and finally reach out to cover your hand with his where it rests at your waist.

Something in him shifts then. The air changes. The kiss ends.

Joel seems to come back to himself from some place of other and he pulls away leaving you cold. It happens in a moment; he’s kissing you and then he’s moving away, practically recoiling from you. He gets up from the bed without a sound other than the creak of the floorboards and his heavy breath.

“Joel?” You whisper, disappointment and a hint of hurt rife in your voice. You wish it wasn’t so dark, you need to see if there’s want in those expressive eyes.

“I’m sorry” is all you get back, a grunted apology that means nothing to you.

The horrible feeling comes back within moments as you come down from the press of his lips to yours. You ache to chase that high, pathetically ready to beg him to kiss you again. If he doesn’t you feel like you might break apart, like your body just can’t hold itself together any more. But he’s already heading for the bedroom door so you just curl in to a ball and let him leave.

“Uh I'm gonna take watch. You should try and sleep” He informs you and you try to pretend there’s some kind of feeling for you in his voice.

You don’t sleep. You cry, and you hate yourself for being such a mess. Why couldn’t you be more like him? Why did everything have hurt so much now? Why couldn’t you just have her back? She’d know what to do.

You think about her for hours. You want to erase the memories. Instead you just cry until the sun comes up, until there’s no more tears for you to let out.

***

Joel sits out on the porch of the house, a loaded rifle by his side, and tries to think about literally anything other than you. He hasn’t kissed anyone in years, there’s no time for something so simple when the world is ending. And perhaps he has thought about you like that before now – he’s only human after all - but thinking and doing are two very different things and he knows he crossed a line. You need comfort, not whatever it is he can offer you.

He hopes he can come back from this. He prays you can too.

Joel lets out a sigh and brings his head to his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. He’s so wrecked with guilt, he doesn’t know what to do with it. You aren’t meant to even still be here – you were supposed to have left by now, made your own path. He should tell you to leave.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

What is it? He wonders. He knows why you want it – you want to forget. You want to chase a high that will drown out the pain for a while. Is that what he wants too? He ponders as the chill midnight breeze flits across the porch. He pulls his jacket tighter across his chest. He sits still and sentry for hours, ignoring the thing that aches deep down in him. He won’t let it claw it’s way out.

He tries not to think about how soft your lips were.

***

It’s definitely early when the old mattress dips and you wake with a start. Instinct takes over and you scramble to the other side of the bed in a panic, before you look up.

“It’s okay, hey, just me” Joel says apologetically.

There’s a pale morning light drifting through the stained cream curtains, the gentle drift of the wind blowing them slightly open. He’d let you sleep through the whole night. You let out a breath and give him the tiniest smile, not really looking in his eyes. When you do look up you see his hair is damp, springing in to little curls as it dries.

You wish he wasn’t so beautiful.

“Shower still works, just about. Have to be real quick” he answers the unspoken question when he sees you looking up, nodding towards the en-suite. You blink the sleep from your eyes as you register his words.

“Oh my god” you mutter. You literally can’t remember the last time you used a shower. You’ve gotten so used to being covered in a constant layer of grime.

He chuckles quietly and holds his hand out, pulling you up from the bed when you accept it. Your breath hitches as he pulls you up and you brace against his chest. There’s that same feeling from before, burning embers deep in your body. He looks away quickly and clears his throat, letting go of your hand.

“I’ll give you some privacy” he tells you as he heads for the door.

“Joel” you whisper, and he turns around. You don’t know what you were going to say. He looks like something hurts him, as he stares at you for a minute before he’s turning away and closing the door behind him as he heads back out in to the house.

You sit back down on the bed with a huff of breath. There’s an aching thing in you, you can feel it in your chest, making it’s way up your throat. It scares you, all that pain and fear and grief so close to erupting from you again. Joel could fix it for you, you know he could.

He’s the only one who can save you from it.

You take a deep breath and make a decision, and maybe it’s the wrong one but you want to stop feeling like all you are is some vessel of grief and other horrible things. You leave the room and make your way through the house – he’s in the kitchen, looking at the collection of cans to see what should be left behind. You can tell he hears you approaching, his fingers flexing by his side as he cautiously turns, a look of relief turning to a look of concern when he sees it’s you.

“Joel…” you say again, approaching him slowly – like he’s a wild animal and you’re there to tame him.

It’s the other way around though, isn’t it? He could tame you, tame your pain.

He murmurs your name softly. You look at each other for a while, something in his deep brown eyes emboldening you to come closer, reaching out for him. He swallows, his adams apple bobbing in his throat as you finally wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t stop you. He gives you a look you’ve never seen before; somewhere between fear and pleading.

The moment your lips touch his again, the spark erupts in to flame. Long lingering languid embers now suddenly burning everything in their wake. He opens his mouth to you too quickly, lets you in as if he is a starved man. Perhaps he is. He demands you, but not enough. It aches and you want to tell him to rip you open and devour it all, the sick need for him to consume you and every horror that lives in you. Desperation leaks from every pore as his strong arms wrap around your waist and he’s backing you up against the now redundant fridge. A flurry of dust sprinkles down from the jostled appliance as you hit it, and something falls from the front of it to the floor – a photograph of a long gone happy family – but neither of you notice.

All you know is Joel. All Joel knows is you.

The kiss sucks all the breath from you, but you won’t let go. He tastes like something from the earth. When his scent floods your body you forget yourself, forget it all and it’s everything you’ve wanted. And yet your body says more, more, more.

Joel is the one to break the kiss. You whimper at the loss of his lips on yours and it seems like that nearly breaks him. He shakes his head and stares at you for a moment, those beautiful eyes darkening with a long ignored desire; Another forgotten thing clawing it’s way to the surface. He holds your face in his hands and studies your eyes for a moment, searching for something you don’t want to share with him.

“Tell me to stop” he says, gruff and low.

You look back at him, stare straight at him with resolve. Both of you know you’ll never do that. You pull him back insistently, chasing his lips with your own. He’s weak to you, he lets you in again.

“Don’t stop” you moan against his lips, never fully breaking away.

Your monster is starting to fade away now, the horror becoming a dull ache rather than a gaping wound. Joel growls against your lips, and you know he feels the same lack of feeling the more you give each other.

When you pull away for a moment his eyes are dark. He looks at you with a hunger like you are the only thing that can sate his appetite, and this time he doesn’t run from it. He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, a distracting moment of tenderness as his other hand slides down the front of your body and skilled fingers unbutton your jeans. His eyes flit down from your eyes, to your lips then to the place where his hand is sliding beneath the waistband of your open jeans and your greyed underwear.

He’s going to give you what you need.

He looks back up at you as you gasp. Those dark eyes are the same ones you’ve seen when he dispatches those unfortunate enough to cross him, when his hands are bloodied and his anger boils over. Now they are for you, now those hands that always carry the phantom blood of everything he’s done are for you. He has found that base urge within him and let it flood him, all for you. It excites you, it’ll haunt you, it’s all you care about in this moment.

He nudges your legs a little apart with his own, as he presses a finger down and finds your pooling arousal. There’s a noise he makes, a groan that's close to a growl, that makes your knees weak and you have to hold on tighter to him, your hand gripping hard on his shoulder.

“Joel -” you start but he interrupts you with his mouth on yours again, like he doesn’t want to hear your words. Instead he kisses you hard, as his finger brushes the part that makes you keen and arch in to his touch. He moves almost expertly, his hand sliding down until he’s pressing a finger at your entrance, while the heel of his hand pushes down.

This is the cure. You gasp and keen and all of a sudden your mind is completely blank. This is how you live through it. You take it from him, and he helps you forget. Where your pain before was a faded piece of hurt in the back of your mind, when he touches you like this it almost disappears entirely. He pushes a thick finger in to you, gathering your warmth and your need. You cry out and give yourself completely to that fire burning through you.

Joel breathes your name like it’s a sin. You moan and push your head back against the solid door of the fridge, exposing your throat to him as he bares his teeth and pushes in another finger, the heel of his palm grinding down in a way that makes you feel dizzy. He moves forward, caging you in and pressing his lips to your throat, the scrape of teeth making your breath hitch. It’s not enough. It’s too much.

You whimper out something incoherent and pull his head up, fingers carding through his greying curls. For a minute, his black eyes are on yours again and there is nothing but your breathlessness and the movement of his hand between your legs. You kiss him, desperate – all teeth and spit and unbearable want. He pulls away too quickly. You whine and see another hint of that black-heartedness when he smiles a little.

“Please” you whisper. What are you asking for? You barely know. You just know you need him to keep quieting the noise, to keep making your forget it all.

“Again” he demands, his fingers still working to unravel you. You have seen so much of him but this is new.

“Please, Joel” your voice shakes as you edge closer to your peak “Ple-”

Something crashes in the other room, the sound of shattering glass and you both still. You try to quiet your heavy breath, groaning quietly when he pulls his hand out of your jeans.

Joel is all business again, his demeanour changing in an instant as he glances to you and puts a finger to his lips, telling you to keep quiet. Your brain hasn’t caught up yet; you just nod dumbly and watch him grab his gun from the table and stalk off to the next room as you try hard to catch your breath as you button your jeans back up and curse whatever interrupted you.

When you don’t hear any more noise, you slowly move to the living room, trying to keep the pads of your feet light on the floor. From the doorway you see him breathing deeply, rubbing his eyes for a moment but he’s put his gun away. You clear your throat and he turns to you.

There’s regret there in his eyes, clear as day. Your head fills with shame.

“Fuckin’ racoon or something” he murmurs, pointing to the smashed vase on the floor.

“Right” you answer, still struggling to be completely human again.

You look at each other before you take a step closer to him. This time he steps back.

“Take that shower while you have the chance. We’re leaving in fifteen” Joel orders, voice stern. He’s not letting you get close again.

“But-” you begin, not sure where you’ll go with this

“Just do it” he sighs, sounding almost pained and turning his back to you.

***

It all comes flooding back in one tidal wave after his rejection. You had gotten so close to feeling normal again. Feeling an emotion that wasn’t painful. And he’d taken it away from you the moment he stepped away.

“Damn racoon” you mutter to yourself in the bathroom, stripping off your dirty clothes and getting quickly under the shower. It’s cold to begin with, a sprinkling of lukewarm water as you soak your body and hair, and then back to freezing again. You’re in there for no more than five minutes. It isn’t as refreshing as it should be, but it’s better than nothing.

You shouldn’t blame Joel for how you feel right now, but part of you does even so. If he’d just give in completely, it would all be fine. He can’t pretend he doesn’t want it, after what just happened. Or did he only do that because he felt sorry for you? Was he just needing something you could give him? God, you wished he was easier to read. It could mean anything, the way he was with you.

You can’t wash away the feeling of his hands, his mouth. You’ll never be able to. He’s gonna haunt you forever, just another ghost travelling with you wherever you go. Just like all the other people you lost. Just like her. You press your head against the cold tiles of the shower and let the water drip down your face, taking a gasping breath.

You can’t let him become just another memory.

You won’t let that happen.

[pansy-picnics]

Hiya!

I’m curious, what do you think uknighted dream would argue about and how would they apologise to each other?

Cause I personally think Cass hates apologising, Eugene’s not used to it, and Rapunzel according to the show can do no wrong!

Oh, and if you don’t mind me asking, are you planning on updating Children of the moon soon? Sorry, it’s just one of my favourite fics for this ship!

Thank you x

God ive been so bad about that fic i swear i have so many ideas for it but this year has been SOOO busy for me 😭😭 most of my free time has been dedicated to drawing and playing games cuz writing doesn’t come as naturally to me ngl….BUT SOON ENOUGH I WILL LOCK IN I PROMISE!!!! its been crossing my mind a lot more recently snd ive started a little bit of the next chapter…Ur guys’ support means the world to me im so happy to know people enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 and i desperately wish i had more time to dedicate to all my projects

as for your first question though….LMAO yeah the show did rapunzel DIRTY….Honestly it really depends for me, but i think you’re definitely right about cass and eugene. and rapunzel definitely struggles i think to apologize Genuinely, because she can get really overwhelmed with her guilt and anxiety to the point that she loses sight of the actual problem. its kind of a rough spot for all of them

I honestly haven’t thought abt it a lot so idk if i know what they’d fight about Specifically, but what i can come up with off the top of my head is ummm

rapunzel is a chronic Fixer. whenever someone expresses a problem to her shes quicker to try and “solve” it than she is to just. Listen because she kind of has grown up with the idea that everything is Her fault and She needs to fix everything. I think cass and eugene can end up feeling really unheard because of this. Usually it’s just something they can quickly talk through but when put on top of other conflicts it exacerbates things a LOT.

Raps, cass and eugene can all be INCREDIBLY stubborn and set in their ways and they sometimes struggle to hear each other out. rapunzel i think has her moments, but generally she isn’t too bad about it; eugene has a temper and he can be VERY petty but i think unless he REALLY has a reason to hold a grudge against you, he usually just needs about a week to cool down- but Queen of Anxious Attachment Cassandra Tangled (tm) can end up going AGES holding a grudge and just refusing to check in with anyone. as you probably can imagine it does not go well

i think bc rapunzel has such a strong belief that love is transactional she sometimes gets trapped in a cycle where she basically attempts to min-max her time with eugene and cass respectively because she worries if she isn’t spending ��equal” amounts of time with them then it means she must not love them enough. as you might imagine this causes a lot more harm than good….

cass is REALLY REALLY bad at asking for help and being vulnerable and especially admitting when someone does something that hurts her. i think this causes a LOT of really stupid miscommunications between them. eugene or rapunzel are both usually able to talk her through it depending on who shes upset at…and it really helps to have a third party there who she trusts because otherwise it could easily just spiral out of control and cause her to grow bitter and distant (As seen in canon LOL)

Ummm….To be completely honest i cant really see a lot of situations where cass and eugene like, Genuinely fight after they get with rapunzel. they obviously still bicker a lot but like, frankly after they’ve both figured their shit out i just don’t think they have much of a reason to fight anymore. Their whole rivalry has always been really childish and most of the more serious stressors have already been taken care of by the time the series ends. i think most of their fights are just over stupid shit and get resolved within the hour. i think they’d have to both go through a MAJOR traumatic event to actually get as bad as they were in season 1 again LMAOOO

How they apologize definitely depends a lot on the situation (go figure) but i genuinely dont think they get into Big fights very often…so when it does happen it takes a toll on all of them.

eugene i imagine is a little extra but sincere. doesn’t do Too much because he doesn’t want to overwhelm the girls, but probably just picks a quiet night and orders takeout or makes a small dinner to talk over. sometimes it can take eugene a while to realize when he’s fucked up but when he DOES realize it, it hits him like a TRUCK and he IMMEDIATELY jumps to do everything in his power to rectify it. he’s a big softie <3

cass is a lot more prideful than raps and eugene whether she realizes it or not, so its a lot harder for her to admit her faults, even when she knows she was wrong. she doesn’t like to make a big deal of when she apologizes because it’s really embarrassing for her. she’s the kind of person to send the apology text to the group chat and have to like physically put her phone down and start pacing around the room. To me.

rapunzel, like i said struggles to genuinely apologize because her anxiety and guilt can just become so overwhelming….she usually has to spend a bit of time away before shes ready to Really talk things out. When she is she definitely shows it quietly but clearly, she writes little notes with a paper bouquet and leaves them around where the other two will find them. they leave her little notes back and let her come to them when she’s ready.

admittedly i’m Not good with thinking of character conflicts off the top of my head, they have to come to me in Visions, and i just don’t end up thinking about a lot of ukd conflicts so hopefully this is okay LOL…..I would love to hear other ppls thoughts….. :3

[haechanhues]

KPOP FIC RECS

So I recently (like a couple of months ago) read Bowie’s Books by John O’Connell which is a series of essays exploring David Bowie’s list of 100 Books that transformed his life and I thought it was a way to make my own. These are all fics (in some way or another) that have been memorable in many different ways and I hope to share them with you all.

This is also a full on sap train so I thought you should be ready. I’m also weirdly nervous since this feels kind of vulnerable and makes me shy. but haiii

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

1. @hyuckiebabie - Bad Intentions | NCT (discontinued) 

Of course, I have to start with this. I have to. I’ve also just learnt that author-nim has since left tumblr. But the writing was beautiful and the connection that Haechan and the MC had with each other was absolutely alluring. God I felt things I have never felt before. This was quite awhile ago and I’m kind of sad I can’t reread it to boost my memory a bit more but I was super excited for every update. But aww I wish you could all read it even though it was discontinued, it still remains very memorable for me. 

2.  @beom1e​ - Love Is Not Easy | TXT (completed)

The fic that made me obsess over TXT fics for a very large portion of the year. I read it again and it’s so chaotic and erratic in the best way. I love these boys with all my heart and it was so fun to be able to read it and connect to it. There were different endings that were all really fun. The very first time I was a very big Yeonjun supporter but nowadays I feel a more Beomgyu lean. Hmm, I don’t know. So many options. Can’t forget about Soobin either. The best kind of crossroad ever. 

3. @dovechim - That’s Okay That’s Love | BTS (ongoing)

No because I’m frustrated my original comments about this didn’t save. I remember reading this and it was the first time I had read something involving mental health so blatantly and it just felt oddly satisfying. What I liked the most about this fic however was the way that every character was interwoven within the story without the sole purpose of their existence to be a ‘friend’ to the main character and give advice and put some sense into them nor to invoke drama. I liked that they each have their own story and plot and it’s so majestically done that I always have to applaud this story for it.

4. @jayflrt - The A List | ENHYPEN (one-shot) 

Ahhh yes, I finally get to talk about this. This was one of the first ENHYPEN fics I read and it definitely helped me stan them to the level I did. I love the ....friendship between the MC and Jay. I love the taste of the whole fic in general - the rich people shit and the drama and the need to just not be made into a total loser by an anonymous source. I’m not even being dramatic but this fic has a taste and it’s absolutely fucking wonderful I’m salivating. 

5. @fantasybangtan​ - Queen Cobra | BTS (ongoing) 

One of my utmost favourite writers on Tumblr and in general. I love this story with all my heart and it made me a total * girl. This fic always manages to have a hook on me in more ways than one and I was so excited to see that a chapter has been updated since I last read it. I hope to god you never stop writing. Ever. Such a talented person and a very special one at that. I sound a bit like teachers comments in student reports and I’m sorry. But I hope you feel how sincere I am in my recommendations to read this fic. You have to. Absolute art. 

6.  @caramellohigh - Not Such A Good Boy | THE BOYZ (ongoing) 

This is my favourite depiction of Juyeon, like ever. I remember seeing three times before I actually read it. First it popped up in my dash just randomly, then it was recommended (not specifically to me) but I had been wanting to read a few fics. I thank whatever higher power exists for this fic. I can’t explain myself but like it’s so good. I love the whole golden sweet nice sunshine boy being this person who isn’t actually all that sunny and saintly trope. I don’t know the proper name for it but I loved this. I can’t wait for more chapters such an exciting fic, I couldn’t put this fic down for the life of me. I had a lot to do today but I didn’t do it because I was reading this hahaha best decision ever. 

7. @theluckyyyoneee​ - Antipode | EXO (completed) 

OH MY GOD I JUST SAW THERE’S AN UPDATED CHAPTER, I’M GOING TO READ IT NOW. Okay okay I’m going back to writing normally so I don’t look like an idiot, but I love this fic with all my heart. So so warm. I love that Chanyeol is just a literal puppy throughout the fic. God I hope to see this couple again. In any way. I’ll take it. I remember I first read this when Chanyeol went to the military and reading the final chapter when he’s back literally feels like all is right with the world. I adore this couple. And with the risk of sounding cheesy as hell, this story smells of pine and appears like Christmas lights in the night and I think that’s the cutest fucking thing. 

8. @jungblue - Future Hearts | BTS (ongoing) 

I’ll be honest, before I came to Tumblr I always ignored recommendations for fan fics - simply because I had different tastes to the person giving the recs (they were a bit too much for me) and I just liked that fan fics were just my terrain to freely explore the fics available without in some form being attached to someone else (i was going through some shit obviously). Then this fic showed up and I took a chance on it. Best thing I’ve ever done for myself. I fell in love with writing all over again. I thought of colours differently. Everything. was just so different. I was super invested in the story. I would say it became so definitive of the person I was at eighteen, when life started changing. So thank you author-nim. From your forever fan <3 I hope all is well with you, you deserve the whole world y’know. 

9. @sankyeom - Break Your Rules | THE BOYZ (completed)  

Okay okay so, I love Sunwoo with my whole heart and one of my favourite tropes is brother’s best friend (disclaimer : it reflects to my life in no shape, way or form but we love a good ol’ forbidden love without the death involved) I first read this on my other account and it’s always one I seek out if I want a little thrill and a happy ending. Also the side characters are so fucking funny, I loved reading them. This fic is the treat your aunty tells you she shouldn’t be giving you but does anyway and you love her with your whole heart. So wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. 

10. @chittapornswife​ - DYNL Club | NCT (ongoing) 

A fic I’m forever fond of, I think. I always used to read this whenever I would go to class and it would keep me from having panic attacks. It would always leave me feeling fluffy and energised enough to get through an hour (or longer) class (and it wasn’t like the class was terrible, it just made me anxious.) I always link this fic to good things, or at least like it’s a bridge from being less than okay to recovery which is kind of ironic considering the content. It also has Haechan in it, which I’m thankful for. This story helped build my love for him in a way, I think. I’m truly grateful. 

11. @desayunho​ - Time Of Love | ATEEZ (completed) 

Oh my god it was a struggle deciding what fic to use but I decided on this one. It’s so beautiful. Oh my god I loved it. I read ‘Lovefool’ before this one and just knew that I had to hop on this train too. Lovefool blew me away and I knew it would happen with this one too. Absolutely after my own heart. I’m not one for poly fics (not against them either, I just don’t normally read them) but AHHH I’m screaming. The dynamic. The everything. This fic is everything. Thank you and good night. I love San and Wooyoung and ATEEZ AND author-nim, a special place in my heart is reserved for you and your artistry. 

12. @ballelino - Wedding Season | STRAY KIDS (completed) 

With the risk of sounding absolutely delusional, this fic helped me well and truly realise that I am never ever going to move on from Lee Minho. Like ever. The fic left me feeling very vulnerable but well protected? I don’t know how to form words but...  Everything was just perfect. Truly a foundation. It’s a fic I want to read for the first time again for the feelings I felt and the sensations I was going through. Truly a magical ride. I’m not even being sappy - this is me being totally brutally honest. I loved it for lack of better words. You know that question that goes ‘If the words ‘I love you’ didn’t exist what would you use?’...This fic. That’s it. My new love language. 

13. @thepixelelf - Hood | THE BOYZ (completed) 

This was well and truly a rollercoaster.. god I could remember it. I was on the edge of my seat every update. I loved the whole friendship and the back and forth. Ever since that first chapter it has been a favourite of mine and has remained one of my favourites since then. Also it was literally a year spent together with a fic and I don’t know why but this makes me feel more attached and feel more love for this fic even more. It’s beautiful and it’s literally like cuddling a teddy bear. I don’t know how else to describe it. If I could hug any fic it would be this one. Cause it deserves everyone’s high praises and I want someone to experience reading this fic to experience it and just tell me what they thought and we can go nuts over it. 

14. @seokjinsdisciple - Who’s Your Daddy | ATEEZ (ongoing) 

What a rollercoaster of events. These ATEEZ fics (not even just this one) has a special place in my heart but I’m here to talk about this one in particular. It’s so incredibly cute and angsty at the same time. Anything you ask for in a fic, you get it practically. It’s everything. It gives me everything. It gives me life. Seventeen chapters in and I've already tried finding a wizard to turn me into a puddle on the floor because I can’t cope. It’s absolutely brilliant. Ahhhh- also one of the authors to open the new door for me in terms of social media aus. I never thought I’d be into them but I really am and a large part is due to author-nim so thank you for this medium of storytelling and doing such a good job every single time. No misses. 

15. @aspenwritesstuff - Prove Me Wrong | STRAY KIDS (ongoing) 

HOW COULD I NOT INCLUDE THIS. I can’t even remember how I came to read it but I remember reading it and being so hooked the very first chapter. I am also extremely affectionate of you, Aspen. This story and everything about it. I love it. It’s cute and fucking interesting and I’m just so hooked and excited I cannot wait to see how the rest of the story pans out. Like truly amazing. I’m going nuts over just thinking about it. Absolutely wonderful and just truly cute. I don’t know what else to say but it’s so cute. So fucking cute. Ahhhh. Just screaming and yelling and hollering at this point. LIKE YEAH THIS IS ME. THIS IS HOW EXCITED I CAN BE. Can’t wait, Aspen, honestly (take ur time tho <3) 

16. @gyukult​ - We Don’t Usually Hold Hands | SEVENTEEN (one-shot) 

So usually whenever I read Mingyu books I’m used to player Mingyu or sugar daddy esque-Mingyu who’s very cool. I’m not hating it. I still most likely would read it. But I never knew how much I needed a fic where I could actually see Mingyu in it and I think it’s perfect. I fell in love with this fic at first read and I think it’s actually changed the trajectory of my life forever. I’m not even being remotely funny. It really has. I don’t know - I loved the humour, I love just how casual the romance was. Like it felt so natural and just so Mingyu I don’t know what else to say without rambling. I feel like this fic is especially for those who don’t necessarily believe in romantic love, for those who do and in love with the idea of love and just everyone in between. So everyone basically. It’s a necessity. 

17. @kyufiber​ - How To Be A Heartbreaker | THE BOYZ (completed) 

God, I love this fic so much I don’t know what else to tell you. This is an Eric fic but it felt like more than just that. I’m a Sunwoo girl, have been from the very first video I saw of these guys but everyone just-. Let me tell you how PERFECT this fic is. It went exactly the way I wanted it but every update was a blessing and a gift. Like...is this music? No but I’m honestly always starstruck by this fic. I have no way of formulating proper sentences, it’s amazing. It’s so good. It’s so good. It’s honestly- GOD, especially if you’re an Eric person. This is for you. For all of you actually - read it! I’m begging with my whole chest, my whole soul, everything about me that is me - read it. 

18. @starrgaziinggg​ - Friends With Benefits | STRAY KIDS (ongoing) 

I can’t remember exactly remember the 6 W’s of how, where, when I found this fic. But all I remember is that it was a god send during my Minho phase (that is still in fact going, don’t get me wrong). Every new update is so fucking fun for me and definitely has me all up in there. I love this version of Minho. It’s one of my favourites. Absolutely. This fic has been a newfound love of mine and I’ve enjoyed falling in love with it every single chapter and I know that won’t ever change. I’m a bit speechless I don’t know what to say, currently I’m looking at it and I’m so excited to talk about it but all I am right now is a blubbering mess that can’t string two words together to make a single sentence. But I really appreciate this fic and I can’t wait for more updates! <3 

19. @wooyunhwa​ - Kingdom Of Welcome Addiction | ATEEZ (ongoing) 

Although it’s been a couple of years since the last update, I am still going to praise and praise this fic as if it’s my sole purpose in life. I love the way the characters are and how there’s a whole world away from everyone else - as if its just the three of them in this demon vs angel love affair. Don’t even get me started on the writing - it’s so beautiful, detailed and I love how humour is incorporated into it. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It surprised me so much in such little but significant ways that I think sets apart this fic from others like it. Truly. 

20. @yeow6n - boyfriend!haechan tiktok series | NCT (ongoing) 

Ahhh my current go-to Haechan fic writer. God, I’m in love. Have you ever felt a connection with someone you haven’t talked to or anything but because you share that one thing you’re in it for life? This is it my friends. This. Every fic I’ve read is a love of mine and I’m so excited to write about it. They’re usually short and sharp but incredibly sweet and it just- it makes loving Donghyuck easier. Honestly author-nim came in at the right time and totally swept me off my feet. In love with it. In love with him. Stan author-nim for good Haechan content. Honestly I feel like calling you bestie which is one hundred percent out of character for me so I won’t - but I just want to let you know that the temptation was there and it was a strong one! 

[torra-and-the-toons]

Welcome to my Cartoon Blog!

Torra | she/her | 1992 | Autistic | Fan Artist & Author 

Hello! If you’re reading this it means you’ve found my blog! Just a few things before we get started that you should know about me and what I do here. 

I post about whatever cartoon is tickling my brain at the moment, and I flit between hyperfixations like I’m playing duck-duck-goose. Ed Edd n Eddy is the only fandom I have major projects in, but I partake in a lot of other fandoms too. So just know, if you follow me for one fandom, it’s bound to change.

I ramble a lot. I tend to voice my thoughts out loud randomly into the void that is tumblr just because I like to talk to whoever may be listening. If that’s not your thing, you may want to block the #torra rambles tag! Don’t worry, it won’t hurt my feelings. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and I want to do my best to make this blog enjoyable for all kinds of people.

My askbox is open, but I no longer take requests or answer head-canon related questions, but I’m happy to say hi. No Anons anymore, sorry.

If you’re just here for my art, I suggest looking for #torrasart. For any art I posted before February of 2024, I used #my art, #my doodles just FYI, but mass post editor was too confusing to change it, so I left it as is.

I try to be generally sfw, but I might still post/reblog suggestive text posts occasionally, tagged #suggestive, so minors beware... 

I don’t want to have to block anybody but I will if I have to... 

Please keep in mind that I have a full-time job that takes up a majority of my time and energy, but in spite of that I’m working as hard as I can to bring these projects to life. I also have pretty bad ADHD, which effects my ability to stay focused, but I’m trying. All I ask is for your patience and understanding. 💖

Ed Edd n Eddy Stuff

At the moment I have a few serious projects that I’m working on: My fan-comic, “In the Ed,” my fanfiction, “In the Sky of a Million Stars” and my most recent venture is just my unnamed Torra AU where I unleash my weird furry self-insert/OC into the cul-de-sac like a lunatic because I can’t make normal human OC’s.

IN THE ED

Horror AU, Supernatural Themes, Trigger Warning for blood and possible gore, Content Warning for language and violence.

"Nobody knew it existed. In fact this was the first time anyone had set eyes upon this hilltop manor for quite some time..." Four years after the events of the Big Picture Show, the Eds and friends find themselves in a brand new, death-defying adventure that's sure to shift the genres.

tags: #in the ed comic, #wip shot, #in the ed refs

This fan-comic is also on Ao3 for slightly easier readability! 

Introduction Page! 

CHAPTER 1: Peach Creek Manor

[1-5] [6-10] [11-15] [16-20] [21-25 (coming soon)]

IN THE SKY OF A MILLION STARS

Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Trigger Warning for Suicide Attempts, Content Warning for language and blood

Eddy has always been a man of many fears, but above all else, his greatest fear has always been the inevitability of growing up. Now, with adulthood staring him in the face, he just can’t take it. Why couldn’t things have stayed the way they were? AU where the BPS never happened, and Eddy struggles with the changes happening around and within him. Loosely based on the song "One More Light," by Linkin Park.

tags: #a million stars fic, #a million stars art

Follow it on Ao3 to get the latest updates!

Torra AU [not official name, and no banner image yet]

Comedy, OC, Content warning for language but overall trigger-safe, I think. Unless you have a fear of tigers

tags: #torra oc, #torra au, #torra and the eds

The Isaac Saga [no banner yet]

Comedy with some hurt/comfort themes. 

A collection of comics and drawings about the cat I made for Double Dee named Isaac. 

tags: #isaac the cat, #small things with great ed

Small Things with Great Ed Part 1

[pages 1-5] [6-10] [11-15]

[librarylexicon]

For readers of Family Crisis 💖

(Originally posted on Dreamwidth.)

Hi :)

First, thank you for all the lovely comments on Family Crisis , especially on Chapter 21. That scene in the Batcave is very dear to my heart, and a big reason why I began writing this fic in the first place. I am also gratified that there is such love for how I write Cass! 🖤

Second, you may have noticed that updates have slowed somewhat, and I haven't posted a new chapter since before Christmas. There are a couple of reasons for this, but they boil down to 1) general real-life busyness and 2) taking a while to realise that the reason why Chapter 22 would not come together was that I was approaching it from the wrong angle. I never intended such a long break between chapters, but now that the problem has been sorted, Chapter 22 should be posted within a week or two. Expect more of Bruce, Dick, Tim and maybe even a special guest...

In the meantime, I posted two deleted scenes on my Dreamwidth back in December that you might like to read.

Lastly, I know it says on AO3 that there will be 23 chapters, but since some scenes ended up much longer than originally planned, there will almost definitely be more than that—probably 24 or 25.

Anyway, if you're reading this, even if you don't read my fic(s), do say hi! Happy New Year! 新年快乐！

Lily

current mood: grateful

current music: Harry Chapin - Cat's in the Cradle

[adonis-koo]

Do you want a bigger fandom or do you like it, how it it’s right now ( I think you deserve more recognition because wicked and your other stories are so gooooooddddd )

Feels weird to refer to my readers as a fandom lol, truthfully I don’t think having more readers will fix the issue, I already have almost nine thousand followers, I’ve been on this app for probably five or six years now so naturally people have probably come and gone from my reading, some people only support certain fics etc. And I have no issues with this! Read what piques your interest on my blog and if it’s only one fic that’s totally fine!!

But overall I don’t really want more followers in this sense because I don’t think it’ll fix anything. An example is Wicked gets about seven hundred notes per chapter, about six hundred and twenty of those are likes and I’ll get maybe fifty reblogs and roughly ten to fifteen comments on the actual post (WHICH I just found out I’m now able to reply with THIS blog rather then my main account which is a total game changer with giving even more interaction with readers)

On a regular chapter though I could average about twenty to even thirty asks, mixed between users and anon’s, last chapter interaction had to be prompted; I only received two asks the whole day and a half and only after posting about the lack of engagement did I received an average amount of engagement.

This update for wicked has had a sharp drop off in likes at only close to four hundred, maybe thirty reblogs and probably 5 to 10 comments, however my asks were once again very dry, I only received two asks within the first three days of updating (it usually only takes 24 hours for asks to start rolling in).

Generally engagement will generate more engagement, that’s just how it works. But no engagement = no engagement 🤷‍♀️

I’m not trying to actively complain, I experienced this heavily with tease once i got close to chapter 20, so it’s not an unfamiliar concept to me. People want long fic’s but I’ve found that if it extends past fourteen to fifteen chapters, people begin to get bored and drop off, that’s what’s happened with wicked I suppose.

Anytime I feel discouraged I remember an old tumblr post that talks about imagining all the people who have read your fic being in a room with you, 400 people is overwhelming to imagine being in a room with me! But it doesn’t change that I sit here a lot of days and think about the people who only drop a like.

It’s like saying; your fic is really good, it made me feel all the feelings, I loved to consume it and I’m now onto the next. It’s good!!! but it’s not that good; it’s good but it’s not good enough for me to click twice to reblog it; it’s good; but it’s not good enough for me to bother writing you an ask or dropping a comment, it’s good; you want engagement? okay I’ll just write ‘part 2???’ or how about ‘update pls!!’

I’m not really talking about anything new, this has been an ongoing issue in writing for an unfortunately very long time; even my biggest fic Sate just hit 5 thousand notes! I had enough engagement with the fic that I considered it a personal success but when you look at the statistics of it, it’s kinda messed up that it had to take five thousand people just for six hundred to reblog it and only twenty three people to drop a comment.

Anyways I didn’t mean to ramble about this, I guess it’s just been on my mind as I wonder about what direction I take this blog and if I want to keep writing, to answer your question; I don’t really put much stock into my following because it evidently doesn’t really count towards what I write, I’ll always be flattered when people chose to support by following but it’s not a number I put a lot of value in

[sincerelybubbles]

You Don’t Actually Answer To Asks Y Lie

[IMAGE ID]: 3 screenshots all showing the tumblr ask inbox. the first has 3 asks on it, the first one sent (read at the bottom of the page) reads: “do you allow translations of your stories” the second one reads: “Do you allow translations of your work?” and the third reads: “y do you not answer asks”. The second screenshot shows one ask that reads: “hello?” with many o’s and question marks. The third screenshot shows a final ask reading: “y u ignore asks”. [IMAGE ID END]

um, good morning !

first and foremost: nobody online owes you shit, anon. like literally nobody, especially not someone who just posts bnha fanfiction at incredibly random increments. it’s just not how the world works.

i get that u asked a question and (im assuming) really really want to translate my writing, but i’m allowed to not answer literally anything in my inbox for whatever reason without getting spammed? like, i would understand maybe a reminder ask to make sure tumblr didn’t delete your ask, but, in general, this was excessive.

the internet is here for your convenience and entertainment , yes, but that doesn’t mean that *i* am here for your convenience and entertainment. i provide a free service (and honestly don’t even provide it regularly) because i want to, not because i’m obligated.

and, that goes for literally any request for fanfiction authors. “you wrote this ooc” or “you need to update this” or sending requests or telling the author how their fics should end — literally anything you could think of, people online who you are Not Paying Or Bartering Services From can just ignore you. that’s how it works.

moving past that (if i were somehow obligated to answer your ask immediately) i haven’t been online and answering asks and just ignoring yours to be mean or something. i haven’t actually been on the app for longer than maybe 2 mins at a time in over a month because … and i know this might be a foreign in concept for you and your view of people online … i have been busy!

i’m also not in the habit of checking my asks, to be completely truthful. it’s been over a year since i’ve gotten one, other than the literal two last month, if i’m remembering correctly, because 99% of my followers are lurkers (i love you all dearly and am exactly the same way) but i’m just. not in the habit of checking!!

to answer your question, though, no. i’m not comfortable with people translating my works because i feel like it opens the floodgates for people copying and pasting my works and posting them as their own without me able to check and regulate it. if i were to have works translated, i def wouldn’t feel comfortable with someone on anon asking to do it because i would want to know where and when they were posting the translations and i would probably talk to whoever wanted to translate extensively before letting them post anything (mainly to make sure they’re not just going to slap my fanfic into google translate tbh).

and, i’m going to be honest with you buddy, what you really should take out of this interaction is that you probably really need to get offline for a few hours. it’s not the end of the world if one blog doesn’t answer your ask within the week that you sent it. i didn’t see it, i wasn’t maliciously ignoring you, and (for anyone wondering or waiting for an ask to be answered) i always intend to get to asks eventually, im just not going to always answer super fast. and sometimes i won’t answer if it’s something i don’t want to answer or a request i don’t want to do or literally any other reason because I Don’t Have To.

(if there are any typos in this, i’m sorry, i just woke up for a little morning fanfic read after not being able to sleep and saw this … mess. now, i have a rlly nice anon to answer and imma do that :) this was in no way to discourage people sending me asks — this was to discourage people from spamming me because i didn’t answer on the timeline they’ve imposed on me)

[problematicfanfics]

alright i only just noticed you had a tumblr and felt obligated to say something so

i just want to say that i’m a huge fan of your writing and works, and have been for years. i first found out about your stuff back in november or december 2020 (??) a little bit after I Threw Glass At My Friend's Eyes and Now I'm On Probation was first published, since i had been absolutely in love with tombur at the time and scavenging the ao3 tag 24/7 to see if anything new came out, and i was instantly hooked. i have so much to say about it and no way to put it into words, but the whole general concept surrounding it is so interesting and alluring, everytime a new chapter was posted and i’d read right until the end and then it’d be stuck lingering in my mind for literal days on end. every cliffhanger that was left had me so excited for what was next, excited to see whether wilbur would finally be confronted or not. the fic meant and still means so much to me, it’s taken up so long of my life to the point that its probably something i’ll still remember even when i stop consuming poppy or mcyt content. i’ve been so obsessed with the fic that the song it’s based off of was quite literally my #1 song of 2021 all because of it, and was within my top 100 this year too. i’m legitemately grateful for you writing it, because it both got me into Destroy Boys and gave me so much joy for so long.

this is more an amalgamation of me rambling about how much it means to me, so i apologize about how cluttered and disorganized it is, but thank you for writing. your stuff has helped me with a lot of my life ♥️

i’m gonna cry. i hope u understand that i just finished the chapter today because of this. i literally wrote through a wake at church because of the motivation this gave me. is that bad? probably. but the entire family hated the guy anyways

thank you, you specifically as well as everyone who has stuck around, for, well… sticking around i guess. for leaving me comments, asks, messages, friend requests, texts (to those of u ik well), for motivating me.

it’s been over a YEAR since i updated. and even then, by april 2021, updates were very few and far between. so truly no NEW chapters have really come out and when they do it’s ~1,200 words every three months. but y’all still check in, and not only that, LEAVE COMMENTS. even though it’s been silence since october 23rd, 2021 (i missed oct 22 like an idiot last year AND this year), you guys come back. thank you. it’s been TWO YEARS since the release and i’m no where near done and i’m so sorry to any of you who care enough.

ー

but thank you everyone for checking in, offering help, reading, helping me brainstorm. thank you rad, even though we don’t talk much anymore i have u on snap and i still message u time to time. thank u fello, for being amazing and always supporting me, constantly my #1 supporter and lover. Tater, my love who i message at least once a week, idk where id be without u. and all those “anti”s from 2020 i still talk to to this day, i passed my psych test w a 67% 🦅‼️🙏

i’m blasted. this is long. i had a shit day today, with church and my family being a shit show, and this really made me pick up my head and do what i always do: say “fuck it, we ball” and keep moving on.

so fuck it, we ball, thank you anon.

ANYWAYS here’s some church shit from today i found funny

[mizufae]

Orchid and cactus for the ask meme, please!

Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about myself!!

A song I consider perfect? My taste in music is kind of ridiculously varied. But honestly?? Bohemian Rhapsody might be perfect. I know it’s like everyone’s favorite song or whatever, and I should pick like, some Mahler symphony or some Björk mouth sounds, but okay what are my criteria for perfection when it comes to songs?

One, it should be able to express a spectrum of emotions and generate empathy within the listener. Two, it should have a melody you can recall well enough that at least parts of it get stuck in your head. Three, musicians who cover it should be able to add their own twists and style innovations but it remains recognizable. Four, it should make people stop and want to listen to it all the way through.

The audience can vary of course so “people” and “musicians” and “listener” and “you” might be a million people or it might just be fifty people in a niche theme bar or it might be just you and your shipmates. But Bohemian Rhapsody can get a stadium of gross teens singing in complex harmony. You can play it on a carousel organ or mumble it under your breath while doing chores and people can still ID it. The emotional journey of the song transposes from an incredible queer anthem to literally any challenge or coming of age you want. The vocals are so incredible that Freddie Mercury’s voice like, spiritually imprints his energy on everyone who gives it their all. It broke through genres and cultures and arbitrary industry standards and makes no sense on paper but it’s transcendent. Please enjoy it on a 100 year old fairground organ.

What am I currently learning about? Right now nothing super in particular. I’m honestly kind of in hibernation mode cuz we’ve entered the season in Seattle where I feel like there’s two hours of sun a day and it rains constantly. Personally and fandom wise I’m still on a Stranger Things fic binge and I’ve learned that I’m grateful to be an old because if I were younger I would have the biggest fucking celebrity crush imaginable on Finn Wolfhard, because he so perfectly encapsulates my younger self’s type that it’s insane. As it is I merely have cuteness aggression about him and want to feed him pie and encourage his dreams, thank god. So, like, self-knowledge is good.

Hrmmmm. Oh, also, I’ve been discussing/teaching color theory to my friend who is an indie game designer (play project O.R.B.! It’s free! Explore a mysterious ocean and find rainbow crystals!) and because of that I’ve been refreshing and updating a lot of the things I learned about fifteenish years ago when I was getting my BFA. Do you know about the CIELAB Color Space??? Color science is wild, man, cuz it’s like our meat brains trying to quantify our collection interpretation of sensory information but also fused with cultural preferences and personal histories and technological limitations. My friend is a programmer by trade so I keep bringing up art history references he has no clue about and he’s like “wow, I didn’t know art looked like this ever” and I’m like “surprise, artists can also be autistic!” And he’s like “give me homework” and I’m like “I don’t know how to handle this kind of power” so that’s been fun! We’ve been having kind of a break for a month though cuz he is the at-home dad for two young kids and holiday season is upon us. I hope we can get back together for some more color theory time before next year.

[circesoracle]

i'm sorry you feel down about your writing, i meant to send this earlier but better late than never so i hope it's ok. fwiw i think you're one of the most talented writers out there! i don't write myself so i hope it's not dismissive but i'm curious to know what success would look like for you (cause i already think you're v successful & creative, who's writing actually good fshep liara stories yknow?) and what readers can do to better support you so you can feel proud of your creations

I’ve taken a bit of time to think about how to respond to this, so I’m sorry for the delay and for the long answer.

I’m going to assume that you ask this genuinely and with good intentions, and I thank you for your kind words. However, I’ve struggled with how to respond to the two questions in a way that’s honest. I fear honesty will come across as pathetic or asking for attention, or worse, seem accusatory towards a particular fandom. I’ll do my best regardless.

I am an extremely anxious person with very little self esteem. I have had family, friends, girlfriends, professors, acquaintances even who completely destroyed any sense of worth I possess, both in general and in regards to my writing. I used to take pride in my writing, and I used to like it, but over time, people have worn me down, and I can no longer see it as anything less than awful. To give you a feeling of what I mean, here’s a personal experience I’ve never shared with anyone out of fear of empty platitudes and pity.

I applied to my university’s creative writing programme, and within a week was asked to withdraw by the professor because he hated my writing style so much that he told me it would be better for my GPA to drop out. I didn’t write for personal enjoyment for months. I ended up in a depressive spiral so bad I considered killing myself more than once. I changed my major out of English into Communications and New Media out of shame, extending my degree by multiple years when it should have been coming to its end.

I also compare myself to others, which is easy on AO3. You’re extremely kind to say I seem successful, but I can say categorically I am not, in any of the fandoms I post for, successful. My fics don’t compare to other recent postings, with the most successful fic of mine performing middling in a relatively small fandom. Even numbers aside, my fics aren’t good enough to be talked about, or shared around, they don’t inspire art, they barely inspire comments and even those are almost entirely from a small group of dedicated readers(who I cherish dearly and would not still be writing without the support of).

The one which bothers me the most and is the cause of most of my anxiety is Eternity’s Embrace. This is for a number of reasons I would prefer not to discuss openly.

Success, to me, are fics which get art and endless praise and are shared around. Right or wrong, that’s what I define as success, and it is a bar, simply put, I will never meet. I am not good enough. I try to ignore it, but it’s hard. It doesn’t bother me all the time, but when I’m low it’s another thing for my mind to fixate on.

Speaking in terms of Eternity’s Embrace, I have a number of readers who do support me, but they dwindle in numbers with every update and it feels like posting to an empty void. I can’t ask anything more of them, as the few there are(it’s about four of them) already comment in wonderful ways, and they’re the reason I keep posting. My anxieties are not their problem, nor are they yours. If I have more than four readers, that’s news to me as really no more than four or five will comment, which with a long multichapter fic is the only means of knowing anyone likes it.

This is all to say I likely will not be posting a new chapter of Eternity’s Embrace this week, if anyone has bothered reading this far.

Thank you again for your message, I’m glad you enjoy what I write, I appreciate everyone who lets me know they do. My apologies, for the lengthy and delayed response, I only wanted there to be context for why I do express a low opinion of my writing.

[a-constant-gay-panic]

general update and upcoming fics:

so i havent been able to get much done recently as i'm moving pretty soon. i've been busy packing and just overall getting my shit together but i am working/planning on releasing the following fics:

richie tozier x fem!reader (released)

genre/s: fluff, a bit of angst

requested by: no one. i just wanted to write for him :)

summary: richie has been your best friend since you were 5, the two of you did everything together. recently you've been getting closer to stan and feelings within richie, which should never have been there in the first place, start to rise and he finally cracks, spilling all his secrets to you.

sub!regulus black x dom!fem!reader (released)

genre/s: smut

requested by: anonymous

request: “Reader Dom x Sub regulus (fem!reader) where regulus tries to get the reader's attention acting like a brat and reader spanks him as punishment and then overstimulates him making regulus beg for relief while apologizing to the reader (English is not my native language so maybe I have spelling mistakes)”

summary:  you haven't been able to spend much time with regulus recently and the lack of attention is getting to him. his mistake? thinking he'd get away with his “bratty” behaviour without some sort of punishment.

steve harrington x older!fem!reader (released)

genre/s: a bit of angst, fluff

requested by: again, no one. just me wanting to write abt an older!reader

summary: steve harrington has been your kids babysitter for quite some time now, always ready and willing to help you out. the children love him and he knows he shouldn't but he loves you as well... even if you are technically still married...

rodrick heffley x fem!reader (released)

genre/s: angst, fluff

requested by: anonymous

request: “Could you do a Rodrick fanfic with a Fem!reader when Rodrick and the reader are dating and they get into an arguement then like resolve it and cuddle or smth or resolve and have sex I honestly don’t care”

summary: you and rodrick have been dating for a little over a year. everything was going perfectly until a small disagreement turned to something much bigger and he, in the heat of the moment, brings up a rather sensitive topic for you.

soft!dom eddie munson x fem!reader (released)

genre/s: angst, fluff, smut

requested by: @littlebebebunny

request: “Can I make a request for soft!dom Eddie Munson x fem!Reader with prompts angst #7 "wake up, please!" and smut #19 "shh it's alright. I'll take care of you." Maybe where the reader is almost taken by Vecna and they're both so emotional after that they just HAVE TO fuck! Peas and carrots! ❤️❤️❤️”

summary: after you have a frightful near death experience at the hands of vecna, eddie can't hide his true feelings for you anymore and he decides to show you just how much you mean to him.

--- 

well, i’ve pretty much finished all these ones 

i apologise in advance if i don't post regularly or of i'm slacking, everything is just really stressful rn. hope you lot understand!

bye for now lovies <3