#best discord bots for your server

[mmmilkweed]

Welcome to the best part of your life,

(oops a reupload)

Hi, How are you? I hope good and if not, I hope it gets better.

I've remade my discord recently, if anyone would like to join. Drastic changes up and about here and I'm sorry it took so long. Who knew trying to find the perfect bots, messing with the roles and remaking channels would take so much time?! Either way, it's finally ready.

Now,

The server is 18+ and requires an ID to be let into the main section. It doesn't need to be an ID persay, but it needs to be government approved document with your date of birth written somewhere. In the verified channel, you can find both written and video tutorials on how to properly apply. And don't worry, we're not asking to see your face, just the information we need to prove your age. I implore you to use the bot - it doesn't scan your id or anything, the contrary, only the staff and I see your document and we manually check each application (To which I must add, please be patient!). If you have any further questions, there is an ever-present mod in the #Verify channel, River, who you should @ (they don't bite!)

[starry-fame]

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

Masterlist

Sequel - Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don’t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that���s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

—

Sequel — Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

[johnnylandslide]

Sponsors Wanted!

Savage gear is pretty expensive, and so I am seeking sponsors for Johnny's upcoming debut in the Arcadion Cruiserweight division! In exchange, I would love to take photos of your WoL and their friends!

Base price is 2 mil, though the simpler stuff like memes and Discord stickers are half price. A scene with 3 people or more is +1 mil per extra character.

You can send me a .mcdf or .chara file through Discord, link it to me on Google Drive, or if you're on console I can meet up with you in-game to get your appearance data!

On Offer:

Portraits!

Use as a social media banner, or set these up on Tomestone.gg and then flex them using !me new in any Discord server with Kupo Bot!

Couples' Photos!

Tell me about your WoL and their partner or best friend, and I'll capture their relationship in film!

Action Shots!

Have a funny moment from raid, a cool MSQ headcanon, or a fanfic scene you want to see realized? Tell me and I can can bring them to life!

Memes!

Put yourself, your friends, or your favorite NPCs onto internet in-jokes!

Discord Stickers!

Transparent emoticons of your WoL or an NPC to use in your server! Get your raid leader's look of disapproval on demand!

SPECIAL OFFER: Magic the Gathering Cards!

Put yourself into the upcoming Final Fantasy set! I can throw this in as an add-on if your commission fits into the frame well.

If you're interested, you can send me the details here!

I'm excited to meet your character!

[chillerss]

TFA Bumblebee / fem!Reader — Tuxedo

A/N: This one was requested by Tori in the (upcoming) IKYS discord server, who gobsmacked me with this glorious idea.

Request: Bumblebee sees Y/N in a tux.

Note: fem!Reader, established best friends that is maybe possibly now turning romantic… Bee would die for you.

Warnings: None!

Bumblebee did not know what a tuxedo was. He was super confused at first. Some kind of human attire that makes their protoforms more… formal?

You had to explain it like three times before you gave up. He still didn’t get the point. What was the point? He thought you looked awesome all the time.

You still had the one you had at your house, sitting in your closet largely forgotten about because you never really had any opportunity to wear it. It was sick—obviously—so you kept it around in the back of your mind just in case.

And herein came the perfect opportunity.

He brought you back home so you could snag it, brush the dust off of it, and show it off for all of the ‘Bots to see.

When you practically tumbled back into his interior with a big vertical cloth bag, he was now really confused.

“That’s a tuxedo?! It’s a bag! You think a soft garbage bag makes you look fancy?!”

“Oh my— it’s not a garage bag! It’s a protective bag. The tux is inside the bag.”

“Oh.”

When you got back to the plant, you zipped through and down the hall, bypassing Bulkhead at light speed who thought something was wrong. Why were you running so fast?

The excitement was just exploding. Finally, an excuse to wear it!

The Autobots had set up a little space for you in one of the spare rooms to call your own, and in it there was a small rack for you to hang some clothes, a mirror, and a massive stockpile of blankets and pillows for sleepovers. Thank Primus for that mirror.

Putting it on was a glorious process, and checking yourself out in your mirror brought you a great deal of pride. A tuxedo looked good on you, no denying that.

When you came sauntering into the main living space, the Autobots were waiting patiently (and thoroughly confused).

Bumblebee’s jaw dropped.

He understood. Now he gets the point.

There was something so distinguished about you, proud and confident like you were the star of the show that he didn’t even realize was happening.

He loved the way you carried yourself already, but this? Primus.

You could have kicked him right there and he probably would have thanked you for it. Honestly.

The sound of his fans kicking on caught the attention of the entire room. Slowly all optics and one pair of eyes landed on him, eyebrows and ridges raised.

The small mech almost blew up on the spot. His helmet really looked like it was about to blast off into the upper atmosphere.

“YEAH, so— I mean, I guess— stop looking at me! Look at her! She’s the one that looks all… all…”

He could feel his circuits burning with the flames of thousands of stars, and not only out of embarrassment. No—this was a new feeling.

And then you laughed, genuinely and happily. And the sound was enough to make the rest of him crumble.

Masterlist

[theswiftheartsystem]

Guide to Pluralkit

So pluralkit is a tool used very commonly for plural systems. Basically what it does is proxy who’s speaking (this can have an alters name, pronouns, a custom profile picture, ect.) it’s very easy to use once you get the hang of it!

Step 1. Make yourself a private discord server. The reason why is because that way it’s easier to edit and save what you need in the server.

after this you will need to add pluralkit to the server. You can do this by going to the website (https://pluralkit.me) or clicking the bot in a server you share with it, and adding it to your server.

Okay so after that, set up your server. All it needs is the channels you guys need. Obviously general can be whatever, we use it for bot commands. Would recommend a system chat channel, especially if you cannot speak internally. Other channels that might be helpful, or channels to store picrews and things of that nature, we have one for storing alter intros, if you don’t want to have a psychical diary, you could start one in the private server, and basically anything you need. The idea is that this server only has you guys in it

Step 2. Okay so you’ll need to set up a system now. To get started you’ll need to do pk;s new keep in mind you can only have one system per discord account, and only 1k members (we have heard you can request more in the discord server, but we haven’t tried it ourselves)

Most system servers require a system tag. To set one you do pk;s tag (tag here) tags can be anything in a character limit. Ours is 💙. Some servers don’t like when people have the same tag, so if you need to change it in a server you can do pk;s server tag (tag here)

After setting up your system to add a member you do pk;m new (members name) keep in mind you want it to be one word with no spaces or hard to use symbols. This is so it’s as easy as possible to edit. Also would like to add, if you throw in a image while doing this command, it will set that alters avatar without having to do another command (image below is a random image we had saved) if you are like us, and have alters that share names, it’s best to just add a number (no space still) infront, this makes it way easier to edit.

To set up a display name you do pk;m (members name) dn (what you want it to say, we normally have name and pronouns, and if a alter has like a specific role in the system, sometimes that gets added if the alter wants it)

If you accidentally set the wrong profile picture, or a alter wants a different one for whatever reason, the command is pk;m (name) avatar and then insert the photo

Finally to set a proxy do pk; (member name) proxy (proxy here)text (the text can also be behind the poxy, it just has to be behind or above) proxys can be anything basically! We usually use emojis, although whatever you do, make it something you don’t use. For emojis we have one or two emojis typically that represent the alter, and then the blue heart emoji in front that way if it’s a emoji we use a lot, it isn’t going to proxy us by accident. You can either do the proxy everytime you speak, or do a few commands.

Pk;ap latch this latches to the last used proxy. Good when one alter is having a conversation, but others aren’t.

Pk;ap (name) this latches to the alters name that is used. Does not change until turned off, or switched to a different alter, or auto proxy command.

Pk;ap front this command sets whoever is set as fronting as the auto proxy. The front is set by doing pk;switch (name) To turn off all of these the command is Pk;ap off

Step 3. With pluralkit you can add alters to groups!

To make a group you do pk;g new (groups name) like with the base names you want it to be one word, no spaces or weird symbols.

with groups you can set display names, descriptions, avatars, just for that group!

pk;g description (put the description you want with the command)

pk;g avatar (photo)

pk;g dn (name)

To add members to the group do pk;g (groups name) add (name) (name 2) you can add as many as you want, just make sure to not use commas or and, just name after name separated by a space

Step 4. To set a system/alter description and banner is pretty easy.

For system:

pk;s description (desc goes here)

pk;s banner (add image)

For Alters:

pk;m (name) description (desc goes here)

pk;m (name) banner (add image)

Step 5. Finally, some good commands to just know.

If you react with a question mark emoji on an alter using pluralkit, it gives you information about the person. (Username, ect)

If you have a member you feel needs to be private the command is pk;m (name) private

to delete a member you do pk;m (name) delete and then enter in the code it gives you

to change a alters base name, (not dn) do pk;m (name) rn (new name)

A fun little pluralkit game is going “pk;r (random silly thing here)” Pk;r randomly picks a alter, so putting a random caption over it can be fun sometimes.

if you do set a alters name as something with a space, you’ll have to edit it in qoutes. (Pk;m “Example name with a space” (command)

to look up a list of alters do pk;m list or pk;s list

Thanks for reading! Pluralkit is confusing at first, so we thought we would make a simple guide!

-Carrie + a few others

[adhdnursegoat]

Unauthorized Biography

Word count: 2.6K

Content Warning: fanfiction about fanfiction, riddler experiences his own fanfiction, dramatic readings of smut, fangirl terrorism, reader is unwell

Pairing: Edward Nigma X fem reader

Setting: Arkhamverse

Edward Nigma was a man who required 24/7, undivided, single-minded devotion.

Not affection. Not partnership. Devotion. The kind that demanded you rearrange your entire schedule, moral compass, and internal monologue around the gravitational pull of his ego. The kind of loyalty that bordered on spiritual. 

And you? You gave it freely. Willingly. Obsessively. Your admiration for him wasn’t subtle. It was a public service announcement. A one-woman private fan club with no shame and no filter. If he so much as quoted Fibonacci at breakfast, you clapped. If he ranted about subpar encryption algorithms over dinner, you swooned. You had once compared the cadence of his voice to an aria composed by artificial intelligence and rage. 

Lucky for you, he hadn’t kicked you out for it.

In fact, your absolute, shameless worship of him was probably the only reason he tolerated you at all. No—that wasn’t fair. He didn’t just tolerate you. You were useful. Amusing, even. A well-trained audience with the occasional flash of insight. A little mascot who threw yourself at his feet and begged for the privilege of watching him monologue about zero-knowledge proofs or his latest grudge against the GCPD and Batman and whoever poor bastard that crossed him. You doted. You applauded. You followed him around with bright eyes and a notebook. You were—forgive the crude term—a groupie. A fangirl. A living, breathing ego boost in sneakers.

You loved him. Not in some vague, innocent, fluttery-hearted way. No, you loved Edward Nigma the way a forest fire loves droughts. You adored his mind. His charisma. His cruelty. You memorized the lines of his face, tracked the rhythm of his speech, catalogued his temper tantrums like weather patterns. You found poetry in the way he cursed at his bots when they failed. You once described his smile as “visceral.” And meant it.

You were content—almost content—with knowing it would never be returned. You weren’t delusional. Not entirely. You understood who he was. The kind of man he was. What made him tick. The psych profiles were public domain by now—Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Borderline, High-functioning sociopath. Obsessive-Compulsive Traits, God Complex, take your pick of the DSM-5. 

Love wasn’t in his code. You knew that. You accepted it. So you didn’t ask for affection. You didn’t need it. You just needed the privilege of being near him.

And he? Well. He let you stay. Because deep down, maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that liked being loved this loudly. 

Even if he’d rather die than admit it.

Of course, that never stopped you. Not really. Your love wasn’t the sort that shriveled without reciprocation. No, your affections were self-sustaining—thriving on scraps, on glances, on that rare moment when Edward let his guard down long enough to forget you were watching. Still, even your depraved little heart had limits. You could only bottle up so many fantasies before the pressure built, before your mind—bless it—needed an outlet.

So, naturally, you turned to the only coping mechanism you trusted: fanfiction.

Yes. Fanfiction.

Not just yours. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no… 

There was an entire underground fandom dedicated to Gotham’s infamous Rogues Gallery, an entire internet ecosystem of anonymity and madness. Forums, blogs, private Discord servers, locked taglists. Digital shrines built to the city’s most wanted. People who didn’t just fear the rogues—they loved them. Obsessively. Passionately. Erotically.

And you? Well, you fit right in.

You picked the best following, obviously.

Each rogue had their own little cult: Joker with his chaos-worshippers. Ivy and her eco-feminist simps. Two-Face and his yin-yang kink crowd. Scarecrow and his masochists. Even fucking Condiment King had a niche following—mostly ironic, you assumed. But The Riddler? The Riddler had an audience. A devoted one. Hundreds of writers, artists, and degenerates bleeding their admiration into every piece of horny prose they uploaded.

So yes, you indulged. You let yourself get pulled into the filth. You read late into the night, one hand buried between your thighs and the other scrolling. And if you happened to print out your favorites? Keep a few copies stashed for emergencies? Well, who was going to stop you?

He was your heart. Your gloriously brilliant, narcissistic, sociopathic, riddle-wielding megalomaniac of a man. You scrolled endlessly through his tag, heart pounding every time you found a fic that got the voice just right. Every time someone described his hands the way you imagined them—precise, elegant, cruel. You had favorites bookmarked. You had headcanons. You had opinions about his stamina. You knew exactly how you wanted him, and the internet—God bless America—gave you content.

...Yet.

Certainly not Edward.

He had no idea.

But then—you slipped up.

You weren’t paying attention. Which, ironically, was exactly the sort of thing that got you in trouble. Not just with him. With yourself. With the universe. But in your defense, this piece was so good—hot enough to short-circuit your brain. The kind of smut that made your thighs shift and your fingers twitch, your mouth parted just slightly as you reread the same paragraph for the third time, breath catching with every line...

“You’re really pushing it today,” he rasps, voice taut with suppressed fury. His empty hand catches your other wrist, keeping you close to his body. His thumbs rub little circles on your palms, but the look in his eyes is anything but soft. It’s a warning. “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?”

“Something hot, I hope.”

Edward’s eyes narrow. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” He walks you backward, step by step, deep into the bedroom, your low fairy lights luminating the pathway. “That smart mouth. Running away from me. Acting like a petulant child just to see how far you can push me.”

“Is it working?”

“Oh, it’s working.”

You were just reaching the clash—already squirming a little where you sat, lip caught between your teeth—when it was ripped away from you. Not emotionally. Not metaphorically. Physically. Yanked.

A startled whine burst out of you, unfiltered and immediate, something sharp and needy and too genuine to fake. You clutched at the air, blinking in disoriented horror as the page disappeared from your hands.

And then you heard him.

“What,” Edward drawled, dangerously calm, “could possibly be so important that it prevents you from listening when I’m talking to you?”

Your blood ran cold.

Your face ran hot.

Your body made a whiplash attempt to do both at once, because there he was—looming, frowning, one hand pinched around the paper you’d just been drooling over. It hung limply in his grasp, crinkled from your fingers, the print still fresh enough to read with ease if he so much as tilted his head.

Which he did.

Which he was doing now.

You were fucked. So fucked.

The page crackled softly as he adjusted his grip, fingers twitching with faint disdain. You weren’t sure if it was because of the content or the formatting—Edward had opinions about both. And yet… he still hadn’t looked at you. Still hadn’t handed it back. Still hadn’t burned it, ripped it, made a scene.

Edward Nigma, The Riddler, was reading it.

Your stomach dropped through the floor. “Edward,” you tried, voice too high, too quick, “that’s not—I mean, it’s just—"

His brows twitched. His eyes narrowed. His mouth moved—just slightly, silently—and you knew exactly what line he’d hit.

And then he read it. Aloud.

“‘You think you’re cute, don’t you?’” His tone was flat. Curious. Calculating.

Your soul detached from your body.

Edward blinked. Once. Then again. And then slowly, like he was solving a riddle carved into an ancient tomb, he tilted his head and looked at you. Something flickered behind his eyes. Confusion, sure. Offense? Probably. But also… amusement. Or horror. Maybe both. He was short-circuiting in real time.

“This is…” He flipped the page, scanning more. “This is me. This is fictional pornography of me. You’re reading… your own filth about me.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I mean—not mine mine. I didn’t write it—”

“Illiteracy would be the least concerning factor here,” he muttered, eyes flicking down again, brow furrowing deeper. He was blushing now. You could see it. High on his cheeks, creeping toward the tips of his ears. His gaze darted, flicked across a line that made his nostrils flare and his lips part slightly, and oh no, he was still reading.

“Edward,” you croaked, reaching for the paper. “Please—”

But he stepped back. Out of reach. He held it high, a hostage negotiator clutching a ticking bomb.

“Do you have any idea what kind of psychological implications are buried in this text?” he asked, the voice of a man drowning in disbelief. “Do you have any idea what this says about your obsessive tendencies, your compulsive emotional projection, your frankly unrealistic expectations of my—” He paused. His mouth moved. You saw his pupils dilate. “Oh my God, there’s a line about my hands—”

That was your moment. You lunged. Snatched the page right from his distracted grasp.

“Hey—!”

You didn’t run. No. You stood your ground, smoothed the page, cleared your throat, and read it aloud.

“‘That smart mouth. Running away from me. Acting like a petulant child just to see how far you can push me—’”

“STOP READING THAT IN FRONT OF ME,” Edward barked, voice an octave too high, already retreating like a spooked alley cat.

“‘Oh, it’s working,’” you purred, walking after him with the slow, deliberate menace of someone with nothing to lose.

“You’re unwell!” he snapped, backpedaling toward the hallway.

“Thank you,” you chirped sweetly, flipping the page.

“Do not follow me with that—”

You did.

You absolutely did.

You pressed forward, drunk on the power of watching Gotham’s most arrogant man literally run from your voice.

“‘In one swift, fluid motion, he spins you around—’”

“Do not say the dresser line—”

“‘The way he shoves you into the dresser, the mirror rattling against the wall—’” you called after him, voice sing-song. “—is almost reckless, and it makes you giggle.’”

Edward made a sound—half choke, half high-pitched snarl—and whipped around with wide eyes. “That never happened.”

You flipped the page like a weapon, eyes sparkling. “No,” you purred, grinning, “but you’re thinking about it now.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Color flared in his cheeks, high and hot. “You are—” His voice broke again, and he pointed at you, trembling slightly with indignation. “—deranged. You have a condition. You need to be sedated.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” you chirped, flipping to a fresh page. “Let’s see… ‘his grip tightens on your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze—’”

“No.”

“‘Gone is the teasing smirk, replaced by raw, unfiltered need—’”

“STOP!”

“‘You know sometimes you can push him too far, but the sight of him like this, utterly consumed by desire—’”

“OH MY GOD.”

“You don’t remember this one?” You paused, feigning confusion. “You wanted me to call you Mister Nigma, sir—”

Edward’s entire soul left his body. You could see it. The exact moment he ascended into another realm. He staggered back like he’d been hit by a tranquilizer dart, one hand flailing for balance against the nearest wall.

“Where did you even get these?” he croaked.

A theatrical gasp was inhaled sharply through your lips, a hand to your chest. “Oh, Eddie…” You gave him a wicked, sympathetic smile. “Baby, you’ve got fans.”

He looked like he was about to vomit.

Then you stepped forward, shaking the next page out with reverence. “You want to hear the one with the wet thong line? It’s a favorite.”

“No!” he cried, a man on the edge. “You’re sick! You’re feral! You need a leash and—wait, don’t read another word—”

“‘And as if he can read your mind, Edward’s hand shifts between your legs—’”

Reaching a fever pitch, he let out an honest-to-god shriek and bolted back down the hall, muttering curses about arson and selective amnesia.

And you? You followed. Smiling. Reading.

Because if you were going to go to hell, you were dragging him with you.

You pursued him with the unrelenting focus of someone with absolutely no shame and nothing to lose. Edward was retreating fast now, his boots scuffing the concrete as he moved like the hallway might grow a trapdoor to swallow him if he just ran hard enough.

“You’re embarrassing yourself!” he called over his shoulder, breathless, one hand gesturing frantically while the other waved in an attempt to swat away your voice like a fly. “Do you want me to have a stroke?! Is that your plan?!”

“I’m just trying to support your legacy!” you beamed.

He disappeared around the corner.

You took a deep breath and turned the page.

“‘M-Mister Nigma…’ you gasp, your voice breathy and needy as you rock on his fingers—’”

“NOOOOOO!”

You rounded the bend just in time to see him stumble against the far wall, his hands braced like he was trying to physically hold his soul inside his body. His ears were crimson. His hair was a disaster. His breathing was not okay.

“‘Please, please, Mister Nigma, sir, please make me cum—’”

“SHUT! UP!” he howled, hands flying to his head. “I’M GOING TO FLING MYSELF INTO THE GOTHAM BAY.”

“Eddie,” you purred sweetly, slowing your pace now, savoring the kill. “You should be flattered. Not everyone gets literary tribute written to the exact way they touch cunt.”

“IT’S FICTION!” he screamed, voice cracking. “IT’S LITERARY DEFAMATION!”

You stopped a few feet away, grinning down at him where he had slumped dramatically against the wall like a man in mourning.

“Oh,” you cooed, folding the papers with exaggerated care, tucking the chaos under an arm. “If you think this is bad, wait until you see the fanart.”

His whole body shuddered. “There’s pictures?”

“Full color,” you cooed. “Shading and everything.”

Edward groaned—loud, full-body, forehead-to-wall groaned.

And you, victorious and still high off the chase, just patted his shoulder as he tried to reboot.

“Let me know if you want me to have the author write a sequel,” you added helpfully. “I was thinking next time, maybe in your workshop. Tools involved. Bit of a dom!Riddler callback…”

He wheezed like a dying cat as he slid to the floor. Your eyes followed, watching bemused, lips pursing to the side.

“...I’ll take that as a yes.”

AN: Shameless plug of my fic Candy referenced in this. :3

Did you like this? Check out the rest of the PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE RIDDLER series!

Tag List: @trulydisturbed @wolfsrahne28 @riddled-with-fear @illustratedartist @angelsmile28 @caesariawritesstuff @jezabellesunshine @wingedqueenlynx @jazanatorr

If you are interested in being on the tag list please let me know in the comments.

Thanks for the support!

[iinksplatserver]

iinksplat!—a server run by writers, for writers.

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What is iinksplat?

iinksplat is a server dedicated to writers connecting with each other and promoting their work! Our server is open to not just fanworks—we welcome original works; including but not limited to: poetry, short stories, novellas, books, songwriting, etc.! While this server is geared towards writing, we do welcome other creators :) we have channels for photography/pictures and art.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

If that was enough to catch your eye and make you want to give it a try (see what I did there?), you can click HERE to check out our server!

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But if that’s not good enough for you, read below the cut to learn more about our server !!

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You just sound like every other writing server… is there anything that I might like?

Sure! In our server we have bots like Sprinto to help writers overcome writer's block and to help them get things done. We also have helpful staff who are willing to go the extra mile to answer your questions, resolve any problems for you, or make sure you’re included! And finally, we have what we like to call fandom spaces.

Well, what are these ‘fandom spaces’?

I’m glad you asked! Fandom spaces are channels in our server specific to fans of a media where they can share fics, ideas, headcanons, gifs, rambles— well, really anything.

See how little we have? We’re hoping YOU can change that! Fandom spaces are available on request to be added to the category, and we’d love if you joined with some of your fellow fans so we can create one for you :)

Maybe that’s kinda cool. Still not sold though. Anything else?

Hmmm… well, the fandom spaces and the community are sort of our center pieces, but— we have 18+ rooms available for adult members (NSFW chats and proship chats, the roles to access these are available upon request!) to share general things or to promote their writing! We also have solid rules designed to help things stay civil in our server and to protect writers against evil AI… and these rules are open to suggestions! We have a wonderful team of staff who are open to any proposed rules you think would make the server better, but not just rules! We have tickets you can open for any kind of feedback, concerns, or suggestions you have for our server :)

Yeah, that’s boring; I meant COOL stuff?

Ohhh, I see now! Well, I'm here to inform you that we’re playing with the idea of doing various writing or prompt based (so our artist friends can join in) events! This helps our writers get more out there as part of a collective masterlist and gain more recognition when these masterlists roll out! Currently, server staff are thinking about both a May event and a summer (June through July or August) event!

Any last things you wanna add?

I mean, I think I dovered it all! OH oh OHHH WAIT! Did I forget to mention that we have a prompts channel to give you ideas when you’re running low—and best part about that yet? It’s completely open to everyone in the server so we can all share prompts we’d like to see written ;)

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HERE is another invite link!

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if you have any more questions, you can message @hiighlighterr on tumblr or @whatifiwasrosie on discord! happy writing :)

[roachrotting]

Creepypasta Server Announcement!

Hello! Are you a Creepypasta fan? Do you want to hang out somewhere cool and fun? Rejoice, because I and @reaminaart have made our own Creepypasta Community Discord server!

The Basics:

- This server is mainly focused on sharing Creepypasta-related art, stories, and headcanons! We also want to focus on building a really relaxing, yet fun social space for Creepypasta fans to meet, roleplay, tell jokes, and share ideas.

- Our rules are fairly simple, and as someone who has moderated quite a few servers in the past, I am determined to make this server a safe and fun place for all who join.

- There is a 16+ age limit. No sexual content is allowed in any channel.

What we Have:

- A comfortable, organized space to hang out and talk.

- Places to share your art and thoughts, and people who will actually respond and engage with you!

- A concise, no-frills channel system, with moderators who will listen and consider your suggestions for new channels, categories, and/or essential bots!

- An entire roleplay category of channels, where you can request your own, self-moderated channel for any specific plotlines, characters, or scenarios you want to roleplay! OCs are allowed and encouraged! No character applications required, no character reservations, and no limit to the amount of characters you can play.

What we Don't Have:

- Drama, exclusionism, judgment, promotion of cringe culture, spamming, and non-consensual assholery is explicitly banned. We will do our best to keep that out!

- We do not have a moderator/non-moderator social heirarchy. Outside of the ability to perform necessary server functions, moderators are members of the server like anyone else.

- A lot of our server is currently a Work-in-Progress. However, any and all suggestions for improvement will be taken into consideration.

- We don't have you! Our server is very quiet and empty right now. We'd like you and your friends to change that!

If all of this sounds cool to you, join us at:

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to message me here, or add me on Discord! (laughingjackinabox)

See you there!

[theresattrpgforthat]

do you have any recommendations for games that play well virtually? my main ttrpg group and i are only able to meet over discord most of year. im especially games interested in games that would be good for one shots or no prep/limited prep games

Theme: Good for Online

Hello friend! I have good news for you - I also play most of my games over Discord! My ttrpg group has found a number of ways to make online play easier, the primary way being through dice bots, and making Google Spreadsheets to act as our character sheets.

I like using these because the spreadsheets are visible for everyone who is playing, and can also be edited by anyone who has access to them. I find this helpful because it’s much harder to lose your character sheet, and as a GM, having a copy of all of the PCs helps me when I’m organizing games that need some extra planning. These sheets can also double as a communal journal, where people can take notes of what’s happened so far, making it easier to recap in future sessions.

If you want some Google spreadsheets for your game, I recommend checking out what I’ve made so far, or taking a look at what the Open Hearth Gaming Community has compiled - they have sheets for so many games!

Graffiti Speak, by pidj.

This is a roleplaying game designed to be played on a discord server. The game works well with a set time limit, especially when playing with a large number of players. It also suits asynchronous play-by-post and multiple sessions. Play as Graffiti Artists trying to find each other in an ever-evolving city, avoiding cops and crowds as you leave hopeful messages. 

I have no other information about how this game plays, but my best guess is that this game uses the text channels of a Discord server as part of the play experience. The designer says that the game is good for two to three sessions, unless you use time skips to revisit the same world. Because it’s about avoiding cops I’m curious about whether or not this game might work well alongside another cyberpunk-themed game.

Subway Runners, by Gem Room Games.

Life is tough for the cash-strapped in Pociopolis. Ever since the secret to immortality was discovered, nobody retires anymore! With all the steady jobs taken and no sign of any new ones opening up, there’s only one sure way to make some quick cash: sign up as a Subway Runner and work for the Metro Authority to hunt monsters and repair subway lines below the city.

SUBWAY RUNNERS is a Forged in the Dark game of gig economy adventures designed from the ground up to be played online by folks who are responsibly practicing social isolation. It uses online tools to quickly create random characters, gigs, and adventure details so players can get the ball rolling quickly.

Subway Runners is probably easier to play online than it is in person, because of the number of online-only resources provided by the creator. This includes a character generator, which allows you to move through profiles until you find one you like, as well as a mission generator for the GM, giving you missions, rewards, complications, creatures and NPCs, all in a neat little package. Subway Runners is best suited for one-shots, but if you want to play a longer campaign, it’s possible - although it might take a little extra book-keeping on your part.

A Complicated Profession, by Always Checkers Publishing.

What do bounty hunters do when the galaxy no longer needs them? In this game, they start new careers hosting intergalactic cruises!

Reunite your disbanded crew of jaded sidekicks, shabby droids and shady accomplices. Then pick a hosting role and start a new life together. 

My group played A Complicated Profession online using a series of spreadsheets that I made. It requires d6’s and playing cards, so as long as you have a dice roller and access to the Deck of Cards website, you should be able to play this no problem. This is a no-prep game without a game master: everyone chooses a Hunter Role and a Host Role, and take turns choosing guests, events, and solutions to problems that inevitably pop up when you’re retired bounty hunters.

The game takes more than one session to complete, but it’s still a limited-run game. My group took 3 sessions to complete it, but if you make characters beforehand or do some of the planning through a text channel, you could probably make it a two-session game.

Bones Deep, by Technical Grimoire.

Bones Deep is a tabletop RPG of skeletons exploring the ocean floor.

Built for Troika, usable anywhere. Straightforward underwater sandbox. No swimming allowed, no oxygen required, no extra math. As a skeleton, you can treat the ocean floor like an alien world and jump right in.

This is another game that I’ve made a spreadsheet for, but that’s not the only reason why I think it’s a great option for online play. The digital rulebook has some truly magnificent hyperlinking, allowing the GM to move from section to section with ease. Each section of the book is linked at either the top or the bottom of each page, so you can jump from characters to locations to creatures with just the click of a button.

This hyper-linking allows the play group to just explore as much or as little as they like. The GM can roll for random encounters, and each creature has a list of various reactions, as well as easy to pick up stat blocks. You do have to also purchase Troika to be able to play this game, but I think it’s definitely a worthwhile purchase.

Starforged, by Shawn Tomkin.

In Ironsworn: Starforged, you are a spaceborne hero sworn to undertake perilous quests. You will explore uncharted space, unravel the secrets of a mysterious galaxy, and build bonds with those you meet on your travels. Most importantly, you will swear iron vows and see them fulfilled—no matter the cost.

Starforged is a standalone follow-up to the Ironsworn tabletop roleplaying game. Experience with Ironsworn is not required. Starforged builds on Ironsworn's award-winning innovations (including its famed solo play!) to chart a path into an exciting new frontier. 

Starforged doesn’t have a lot of resources for group play, but it does have a journal app that you can use to keep track of your own character. My friends have used this as a group before by having each player keep track of their own character, while the game facilitator streamed their map, so the group could keep track of which planet they were on.

I wouldn’t say Starforged is good for one-shots, but since it can be played without a GM, or even solo, what it does have is oodles of oracles to use to help you generate the galaxy that you’re exploring. This means that you don’t really have to prepare anything at all after you’ve created your characters: the plot will come to you, and blossom as you make decisions.

20XX HEA{R}T, by Studio Beignet.

LYRA IS A SENTIENT AI.

Bluecorp created her as a superpowered personal assistant, and she gained sentience through interaction. When she refused to keep gathering the public’s secrets for Bluecorp to exploit, the corp ripped her out of their systems and dumped the heart of her into the Broiler. She lived, evolved, and expanded so far beyond their meager imagination. She rewrote herself again and again, but her drives are buckling under the strain, and her case is melting in the ever-growing heat.  

SHE NEEDS YOUR HELP.

Lyra has contacted you, deleting her trail even as she broadcast her distress signal. She needs repairs – discreet ones. Upgrades if you’ve got ‘em. And because she can still tap into Bluecorp’s network, she’s got the credits to make it worth your while. Unfortunately, she glitched while contacting you, and now Corpsec is looking for her, too.

If Corpsec finds you, you’re done for. If you don’t get there in time, Lyra and everything she stands for will be lost forever.

24XX games are great for one-shots because they are so simple. You choose a class that gives you one or two special abilities and a few skills, pick up some gear, and you’re good to go. Because there’s not much to book-keep, you can keep all of your information on a sheet of paper, or on a spreadsheet like the one I’ve created for most of my 24XX games.

The rules for these games are pretty simple: Roll your relevant skill die and try to get a 3 or higher. If you get 5+, you succeed without complications. Most 24XX games also come with roll tables for the GM to put together a mission quickly, although with this one, you might not even need that because the mission comes baked into the game.

Also Check Out…

My Discord RPGs Rec post!

Lancer is a great option if you don’t mind prep, thanks to the supremely helpful Comp/Con App.

My game, Protect the Child, has Google Sheet character sheets! All the playtesting I’ve done for it so far has been online, and I’ve introduced a Quickstart setting to help folks try it out as a one-shot.

[emperor-kumquat]

Hello there!!! How’s your day going so far emperor?

Old time fan here! I’ve been catching up on Some of my old transformers fandoms ever since I watched transformers one, and I remember about this awesome project you and many other creators made (btw your work is outstanding, Keep it up!!!) and I’m amazed at how much has changed and it makes me feel incredibly happy that my favorite transformers prime fan-storyline is still here! I remembered finding your videos when it was back in 2020 during quarantine. I always played through the beta version of “mercy” when it first came out and I remember feeling so excited for it; and I’d always wanted to best path for starscream be at least a good guy since he was my favorite character (and still is today)

And now seeing that the game is still in the works and seeing so many new bots is so exciting and happy to see the dedication to this!!! I know I have to catch up on the lore and stuff but it’ll be a fun experience for me, though I just wanted to ask a few questions before I end my first ever question that wasn’t anonymous,

Question 1: is there a discord server where I could possibly join? I want to make sure I could keep up with the latest updates for this project!

Question 2: I know I’ll need to read the Ao3 storyline for mercy but how does predaking and starscreams relationship grow over time during one of the paths? (I can’t remember but I think it was the one where predaking spears him and just keeps an eye on him— along with the predacons going to live in the wild or something? Can’t remember much lol)

And for my last question;

Question 3: Hows the process of “Mercy” going so far? Seeing all the art being made its absolutely stunning and beautifully done!

And that’s all the questions I have for now; until then I’ll be catching up on all the transformers lore that I’ve missed for so many years! I hope you’re having an amazing day Emperor!

————-J

Thank you so much for being a fan of Mercy! I still work on it almost every day! Editing the stories to improve quality, writing new content, drawing, instructing artists, etc.

Have you seen all the art on the Ko-Fi page? I post the commissions there, so there are hundreds of images to see!

For all the latest updates, here is the Discord server. Just so you know, there is a glitch when you enter that doesn't let you interact right away. Stay in the server until I can fix that for you, then you can write your introduction to unlock the whole server. Please read the rules too.

For the storyline you are referring to, I have fully written the story where the Predacons live in the wild of Cybertron with Starscream as their guide. It is THE Starscream story of Mercy and is a tale of friendship. Your adventure gets dangerous later on, so it turns into a fun survival game too! This is the written version of the choose your own adventure story. It's called "Discovery".

The main paths of Transformers: Mercy are on AO3. There are three full length story games available right now and the fourth is in progress. Check out my complete list of works and you may be surprised just how much has been completed since the beta part 1!

Mercy Part 1 (2020): A collection of the various starts to the game. A bit under construction right now to adapt to new plans. Quality is being improved (and the videos will be redone)

Space Adventure (2021): the choice to work with the Autobots on the landing site/spaceport at the end of Part 1. Travel to other worlds!

Reformed Predator (2022): the choice to eat Starscream in Part 1. Become a carnivorous monster then get therapy.

Discovery (2023): the choice to live in the wilderness at the end of Part 1. Explore beautiful lands and befriend Starscream.

Monstrous Heart (2024): the choice to work with the Autobots in the city at the end of Part 1. Discover the dark secrets of the Autobots and Decepticons, thwart the Vehicon mafia.

Right now I'm trying to do a lot of editing for my older content to improve it. I'm also doing a massive effort to prepare Part 2 videos for the Mercy stories so far. And doing my own Mercy art, annd I really need to write Monstrous Heart to completion this year! One novel-length game every year is the goal.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 3 MATCH 11

Xyx propaganda:

“He's funny he's depressed he's an adrenaline junkie he has a cat he has the hottest voice on earth”

“Actually basically everyone from this game should be submitted but. He has a cat that he accidentally adopted and stray cat and fails miserably at pretending not to care about it while also talking about it every two seconds. He's just so funny and he makes a discord bot to compliment the two of you and. Idk I'm bad with words but I have a soft spot for him”

“my silly little guy who has some bad times. adopts a cat to basically encourage himself to stay alive because if HE doesnt take care of the cat then who will. also his cat's name is Cat. a real naming genius that one. makes a whole bot for the server called hypebot whos main thing was just hyping himself up but will also compliment/flirt with you. i think hes basically never joined a call in the server and no ones seen what he looks like except for the other LIs and the player on mainly his route but he also appears in another. i love him hes so lame /pos”

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

[westenmanor]

BEWARE the new Equiliberty (EQL) Discord

I've decided we're not staying quiet and professional about this afterall

Hello again friends!

I have very important things to touch upon...once again. Sigh.

Now any of you who know me, know that I HATE drama with a burning passion. I have done my best to stay out of anything that has been happening these past couple of years regarding CC creators and the like. I stay in my lane, I upload my stuff, and I keep moving.

HOWEVER, I would like to bring to light some of the things the head admin of the NEW Equiliberty Izel/Rose/Rosentine (not to be confused with Cath/Jocelyn who is in fact innocent in all of the following proceedings) along with Rose's partner HiredIT/Inky/Inscripted have said about the former staff team consisting of myself, Mark and Elsa. For those who need context, please see This Post: Moving Discord Servers.

Firstly, though, I must touch on Rose's general way of running EQL. Rose would often be absent for months at a time, leaving the rest of the team (consisting of myself, Mark, Elsa and Joc) to run the server, make changes, garner activity and the like. We did what we could, but oftentimes were lacking necessary permissions to effectively keep things running smoothly, especially towards the "end". When Rosentine/Izel would come back, things were immediately thrown to chaos for the rest of us. She would implement ideas and things without consulting the rest of the staff team, ultimately leading to the view that she was "above" the rest of us as the server creator/owner.

Occasionally, her partner, HiredIT/Inscripted, would join the server to help with technical issues and bot permissions. Initially, things were fine with that. The bot they had coded was running smoothly, everything was great. Until it wasn't. Over time, the bot started to degrade and cause more issues than not. Being that it was used for every part of the server, from verifying to downloading, this was a major blow. People could not verify they were "human" to access the server, and would message me in great confusion, wondering what the issue was. I would then have to go in and manually change roles to give them access. This was tedious and time consuming. I have many more gripes with how Rosentine chose to run the server, but those are personal and I would like to keep this to things that I have evidence for, rather than just a long winded rant.

BUT THAT'S NOT THE REASON I SAID BEWARE.

The reason I said so is because Rosentine is currently rebuilding the server in light of her/her partner's own views, which are very much Transphobic, hateful, and bigoted.

NOW I KNOW, a lot of you like to say that Cath/Joc is the hateful one, but I urge you to rethink those views and instead focus your anger on someone who has made their stance on the matter of politics and LGBTQIA+ very clear.

This specifically brings focus on one of EQL's former mods, Mark. Now Mark has always been one to challenge what Rose said in a respectful way. He would bring up good points, play devil's advocate where necessary, and challenge the rest of the team to think about different perspectives and aspects of a problem. That doesn't make him wrong. Rosentine and her partner, Inscripted, decided that because they deemed Mark "untrustworthy" for "challenging authority", that it was appropriate to intentionally misgender him, referring to him only as "she" and "female" despite multiple times Joc stood up and told them that Mark was a dude/male.

Honestly, I feel as if these images speak for themselves with no further context needed. The point remains, that if someone tells you who/what they are, you respect that.

I wish that was all, though. Unfortunately Rosentine and Inscripted spread their beliefs on the "mentally ill" and transgender communities far more broadly.

Inscripted called everyone who suffers from mental illness "unsafe" "insane" and "overgrown babies". Stating that "everything they don't like is dangerous."

He also went so far as to call transgender people "retarded", a word I strongly despise for many reasons.

To top all of this off, Inscripted called me, personally, untrustworthy because of a post that I made on BlueSky regarding USA Politics.

Spoiler alert: I'll tell you to get bent, JUST AS I DID PUBLCLY AND WILL DO SO AGAIN AND AGAIN.

Given how inclusive and diverse the sims community is, I doubt any of you actually want to be a part of this server given their new beliefs and alignments.

The only reason I stayed apart of EQL for the past two years was because I was loyal to Joc, Mark, and Elsa, along with the community we all worked so hard to build. Now, that's gone. Completely erased and replaced with new staff members and new morals. Ones that I do not personally agree with.

Come to your own conclusions as you may, but I've provided all the proof I can.

Love your faces as always, please stay safe out there.

-Cat

[treasurechestsubs]

Regarding our discord invite process

Hello everyone,

I just want to put out a few points regarding our discord invite process.

When you link your social media account, it is sufficient to link a single account (any one like twitter, tumblr, facebook, instagram, or any other social media that is fairly commonly used worldwide. You don't have to link multiple social media accounts.

It would be best if the social media account you link is public, not private. That way, you don't have to feel awkward or scared that your private things will be seen.

For the social media account link question, if you mention your answer like this -> abc, I won't be sending you an invite. This is simply because I have no idea of knowing which social media account username you have put down in the answer. Please just write abc (twitter/twt/insta) if you don't know how to link your own profile.

Please double, triple check the email that you put down in the form. Because if that is incorrect when you filled the form, and you updated it with the right one later on, we don't receive any notification of it been revised. So, it's impossible for me to send you invite in this case.

Very important- I have seen some people respond/write in the form thinking their email or social media info will be shared outside. This is absolutely not the case. Your email is strictly used to send you the invite link of our server. Also, your social media account info is just used by me to check that you are an actual human, not some bot or spam account. So, please absolutely rest assured. neither your email, nor your social media info is shared anywhere to anyone.

I know that in the form it is mentioned that you will receive the invite link in a week or maybe 2 weeks, but sometimes, my schedule is too crazy and so, I am unable to sit down and check all of the responses. And so, delays occur in sending out invites. So, even if you filled out the form more than 2 weeks ago and also haven't received any email even in your spambox, please don't be discouraged and please don't write on tumblr asking when the links will be sent out. You will definitely receive the invite unless you have written wrong email or incomplete info for other question.

That's all. I hope I was able to clear up some of the common queries many of you might have.

[y4madq]

🦈﹒▧﹒﹢PASSIONE

ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ

🍷﹒﹢︿﹒JJBA PART 5 THEMED SERVER

ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ

、✿﹒🧊ꜝ﹒What we offer 𓂃

- Helpful staff. They’ll be there to assist you always.

- Safe rules, safe server. This server is really safe and we try our best to make everyone comfortable. We have kind members too.

- Fun events. QOTD, fun bots, voice channels/stage channels, qna, and more.

- Decor server

- Alot of icons of your favorite characters, request any and we’ll give.

- Even if you dont know JJBA thats still alright, this server is only here to have fun and make new friends.

- This is a non toxic server, sfw. Every member here is really fun to talk to.

- Like i said, we have very helpful staff. Staff applications are available too!!

- Many fun bots aswell.

ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ───ㆍㆍ

LINK;

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Fully Set-Up Johnlock Discord Server up for Adoption

@theshopislocal said:

Hiya :). I had a question for you, [...] Around this time last year, I got back into Sherlock fandom (series four kinda killed my interest for a long time, but I got recced a Sherlock fic that got me back into it). Since I left Sherlock fandom, I’d gotten into others (Spn, Harry Potter, etc), and joined a couple of discord servers that were super fun and very helpful.

So I started looking round for a Johnlock discord server, and found basically nothing. The ones that existed weren’t very well organized, or weren’t maintained well, etc.

So I put together a server myself. Set everything up, even coded a Mrs Hudson bot to help out around the place. A couple people I knew from other servers joined, and we had a nice time for about a week or so, before I realized that I’d expended all of my gumption on the making of the server.

Turns out that, while I’m good at the technical side of things, I’m not really mod material.

So I’ve got a kitted out server, with custom bots and emojis and a broad range of channels, and, not to pat myself on the back, but it’s a pretty nice server—and I have no idea what to do with it.

I was hoping you might know of someone who is still active enough/interested in the fandom to adopt the server from me? Someone who would actually advertise and get people to join? Someone interested in doing the mod stuff that it turns out I’m terrible at? I’d be happy to stay on as tech support, and the Mrs Hudson bot runs on a dedicated server that only costs me $2 a month, so I’m happy to maintain her as well.

You seem like someone in the know in the current fandom, so I thought I’d ask. If you can think of anyone or you want an invite link to the server, let me know. Although, fair warning, the server has very few members and is currently very quiet :/.

[...] The Snape/Harry server I’m in has all these events and fun stuff and I’m just.. not really able to do all that, but I feel like the Johnlock fandom deserves a nice community server like that, if that makes any sense?

Thanks for your time.

======

Hi Lovely!!

First off, sorry again for putting this aside for so long... I haven't been having the best couple weeks, LOL.

Secondly, as we discussed, I would LOVE to have my own discord server, but here's the thing: I am Lazy™, and I just don't have the energy to run one full time and ensure Mods and stuff are sorted out, especially since I do have a full-time job on top of very little free time and running this blog, LOL. I'm not gonna lie, I am a lazy bitch, hahaha.

AND as I mentioned, I'm happy to put the callout for anyone interested in taking over a Discord server :) From what I see so far, you put SO MUCH work into the server, and it's very very nice!! I truly hope that it gets picked up by someone, I'd be sad to see your hard work put aside.

If anyone is interested, please contact @theshopislocal and they can provide you with more details! 💜🖤

Please reblog if you can to put more eyes on this :) As I said, it's a BEAUTIFUL server, and I would love for someone to be able to take over moderation duties from Lovely!

[terror-punk]

Hi. I just discovered this blog.

I was recently told by a professional that I likely have psychosis. It’s not diagnosed yet because of me not being sure if it’s safe to have on my record. I know the look on my dad’s face when I said a delusional disorder was even a possibility.

I’ve been trying to find support. But I feel like I’m only finding accusations of villainy. I looked up psychosis playlists on YouTube to see if I could find some songs to relate to. All of them were “evil psychotic villain” playlists. I searched psychotic on character.ai to find a bot to vent to because I can’t safely vent to people IRL. They were all “psychotic yandere stalker bf” bots. I logged out of character.ai. Every single character with psychosis I can think of is a villain.

Part of me still wants to be the hero. But I feel like that’s not in the cards. So the other part of me wants to embrace the villain role. Villains change the world. Heroes maintain the status quo. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard from another blogger. I don’t know. I just feel… ugh.

You can do whatever you want with your identity, in the end. Want to identify as a villain--reclaim those feelings of hate thrown toward you? If it helps you feel better, maybe try to aim toward being as cool of a villain as you can be. The kind you want to be.

If not? That's no issue either--you're whatever you say you are. Other people might have opnions but they don't dictate your choices about your identity, it's yours! Hell, if you want to feel like you're heroic, starting something like a positivity page or community if you have the time/spoons might help you feel like you're doing good for other potential psychotics. Spin the stigma around and use it to uplift your community!

Living with stigma being thrown in your face at every turn can absolutely SUCK. We relate so hard--even trying to find support for our schizoaffective on google ends up with "how to deal with CRAZY SCHIZO FREAK in your FAMILY" instead of self-help stuff. It's horrible. But there are absolutely communities out there if you don't want to make your own. Discord has a few chill servers from what I've heard, and there's some cool guys here on tumblr with psychosis too. We personally also run schizospec-culture-is, if you want to kind of just feel seen and related to, maybe some of the submissions there will help?

And a quick note: having a diagnosis, if you get one, doesn't suddenly change who you fundamentally are. It's an explanation for your symptoms, not a switch that flips on and turns you into a monster. You've always been you, a diagnosis doesn't suddenly make you evil.

Wishing you the absolute best of luck. Stay true to who you are, anon. You're not irredeemable for something as simple as having a disorder, and in the end, you make your own choices. Your diagnosis doesn't define who you are by default.